Spice Box

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “Gee!” he breathed as if he could hardly believe his ears. “D’ya mean it! Sure I’d go. Pa wouldn’t even know I’d gone. He don’t care what becomes of me, only so I don’t cost him nothing. But you wouldn’t need to pay me besides. It would be great just to go. If I was to go Monday I could get the round-trip for a dollar, along with the excursionists, you know.”

  “Go Monday, by all means,” said wily Martha, trying not to show her delight that she had succeeded in getting him off on that picnic after all. “But of course I shall pay you for the day. You will need some spending money, too, and what I want you to do will take a good deal of your time, so you won’t have as much fun as you would if you just went with the others. Besides, you will need something for your meals. I will pay you for the day besides your fare and meals. Will that be all right?”

  “Swell!” said Ronald, overwhelmed. “Too much! Oh boy!” He turned away to hide his emotion.

  As she watched the sturdy young shoulders and the fine strong boy-profile against the fading evening light from the window, Martha’s heart was filled with a strange new emotion. A sense of what it would have been to have been his mother, and have a right to give him things and receive his affection, came to her in hungry boundings of her heart. She was half afraid of her own emotion and turned away to rattle some dishes she was putting on the table, to hide her own feelings. So, they had silence between them for a full minute, like two boys. They were as far apart as two human beings could well be and yet were in many ways much alike, this gray-haired lonely woman and this boy of fifteen breezy years.

  Then Martha turned her back with her ordinary tone of voice and said almost coldly: “Well then, that’s fixed, and you can go Monday morning. I’ll depend on you to find a suitable place as reasonably as possible. It had better be near to the beach, and you better get your dinner there and see if the eating is good. I’ll maybe want to send this girl down for a few days later, so you might ask what it would be for her in a room by herself in case she needs to go.”

  Ronald accepted this astonishing statement calmly, but his eyes shone. It almost seemed to him as if God must have come to earth to work through a mere woman and do some of the things that ought to be done. He drew a deep sigh of wonder and awe.

  “Sure! I’ll find a dandy place! You leave it to me!” he said with a swagger.

  It seemed as if he was in a hurry to go then, for he did not even notice the cat, who hovered apathetically about his feet. He left the kitchen door ajar in his haste, and it slowly swung back. Martha was making beef broth at the moment and did not notice, until she heard scrambling over the fence and the neighboring kitchen door flung open, followed by a clear young voice.

  “Ma, have I got a clean shirt? I’m going off early Monday morning on a business trip—be gone all day, and I gotta have a clean shirt! If I ain’t got one, I gotta wash one now!”

  The next kitchen door shut suddenly on a surprised voice of remonstrance, and Martha, pouring her beef broth into a delicate china cup, smiled to herself over the working out of her scheme. Ronald was to have his picnic, and he had never suspected that that was why she got up this “business trip.” Somehow that made her happier than ever she had been when she made a good business deal at the store.

  She cast a look of passing anxiety toward the neighbor’s house as she shut her own kitchen door. Was there any possibility that Ronald would have trouble at home in getting his parents’ consent to her plan? Then the look on the boy’s face as he said his father didn’t care what he did if he didn’t have to pay for it, came back to her and she felt reassured.

  She had a sudden, fierce longing to have that boy for her own, to educate and uplift him and watch him develop. Then in the dusky kitchen she smiled at herself to realize how her own point of view had changed during the past week. Here, for instance, she was carrying a cup of hot beef broth to an utter stranger who lay in her guest room bed too weak and sick even to tell her own name. A week ago she would have considered this an imposition on a respectable woman and would have likely sent for the police to get an ambulance and take the girl to a hospital. And all this difference had been brought about by that boy! It certainly was strange!

  After supper Martha sat down in the parlor near to the hall door, where she could easily hear every sound from above, and looked about her. Life seemed to have taken on an entire revolution during the last twenty-four hours. Great changes were impending, the very walls about her thrilling with the idea of change. In her mind’s eye she could already see bay windows and stairs with landings.

  And upstairs in her guest room was that nameless stranger sleeping, having partaken of her beef broth with disinterested submission and then closed her eyes. Her heart thrilled that the girl was getting better and was likely to live. She wanted her to get well. She wanted to see her beautiful eyes open and sparkle, and color come in her pretty oval cheeks. She had been praying all day for her recovery, and sitting here alone she bowed her head and prayed again. And once she’d begun she found a great many other things to pray about. She wanted the boy to have a good time on his picnic, to be successful in finding a nice, cheap boardinghouse, and return in safety. She wanted the architect to be able to fix her house at a price she could afford and to be willing to accept some of his pay beforehand so that he could take his wife and child to the shore.

  She prayed so long that Ernestine got worried and sprang up in her lap to see what was the matter. And being taken in gentle arms, snuggled down contentedly and set her music box to rumbling. After all, thought Ernestine, there were compensations, even if one could not understand all the actions of people.

  And then Martha got to wondering if she, just plain Martha Spicer, who had never really been much of a Christian, had a right to ask for all those material things? Whereupon she bowed her head again and added to her prayers that she might be made into the kind of woman that the Lord desired her to be, to fulfill His purpose for her life.

  The next few days were a curious experience for Martha.

  Up in her guest room the stranger lay like a breath of vapor between life and death. Most of the time she slept softly, her gentle breath coming so faintly that often it was a question whether the doctor ought not to be called again. Apathetically the girl partook of the nourishment that was given, lifting languid eyes now and then to Martha’s face, eyes that seemed to see only things afar and not to sense the present at least.

  Ronald was in and out in ten minutes on Sunday, started off proudly on Monday morning with his money in his pocket, and a spic-and-span clean shirt adorning his handsome young shoulders. His cheery “So long!” rang in Martha’s ears happily all day long. She sat up late that night and kept her light burning till he came home whistling, hoping he would drop in and give her news of the day. And he did. He gave a timid tap at the front door, and she, like any girl, was there on the instant, her eyes shining, to greet him.

  The two conspirators talked several minutes. Ronald’s eyes were bright and his face was ruddy with the day’s experience.

  “Found a dandy place all right!” he announced as he entered. “Right on the beachfront, second-story front rooms with a big, wide porch, almost like sailing on a ship. It ain’t much to look at, needs painting and is out of fashion, but the man that keeps a swell place on the next block has been using it for an annex, till this year, and he says if they don’t mind it being shabby, he’ll take ’em real cheap. He said the other girl was to come down, too, and she could have a room across the hall. Here’s the prices, in ink where he crossed off the printed ones, but you must keep ’em under your hat. He doesn’t want those prices known. I jollied him along till I got him where I wanted him, and he’s all right. And the eats are great! The man has a farm, and they had real peas and beans and tomatoes, and corn on the cob, and plum pie and ice cream for dessert. They have chicken and ice cream every Sunday and Wednesday he says, and it’ll be a dollar a week for the kid’s milk, and for her to go down and cook it in the kitche
n. Boy, you oughtta see the ocean out that front porch! It’s great! You can see three lighthouses in clear weather. I had a peach of a swim. There’s bath houses belonging to the house, and they said we could use ’em, so we went in swimming twice. We had a cracker-jack dinner, and the supper was some class, just as fine as the dinner. Hot muffins, deviled crabs, peaches and cream, fried potatoes, and chocolate cake! Say, you oughtta go down yourself. Say, why dontcha?”

  “Well, maybe I will,” said Martha, warming to the idea. “We’ll see when my sick girl gets well. Perhaps I’ll get you to take us both and take care of us a few days. How would you like that?”

  “Swell!” responded Ronald eagerly. “Say, how is the girl?”

  “A little better, I think, but she hasn’t talked yet except to say ‘No, thank you,’ when I ask if there is anything she wants.”

  “Good night! She was all in, wasn’t she? What’s her name?”

  “I don’t know her name,” said Martha. “I wanted to find out because there might be somebody who is worrying about her somewhere and I ought to let them know, but the doctor says not to bother her till she talks of her own free will.”

  “Gee! It must be fierce to be like that!” said the boy, frowning. “Well now, what’s the idea? Do I get Bill Roberts here in the morning?”

  “Oh yes, does he live far away?”

  “No, only a couppla blocks away. I’ll have him here at eight o’clock if you’ll be on the job that early. He said he’d have the estimate all done by tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be on the job,” said Martha.

  “Well, I gotta beat it now. Gonta hit the feathers hard tonight. Had a great day, thanks to you. Okay! I’ll be seeing you!”

  Chapter 11

  Ronald appeared on the dot of eight the next morning, with the apprehensive young architect handing out his estimate apologetically.

  They sat down in the living room, and Martha read it over carefully. When she had finished she looked up pleasantly.

  “Well, that’s even a little better than you gave as your first estimate. Are you sure you will make anything on the job at this price?”

  It wasn’t at all a businesslike question of course. It wasn’t the way she had been taught to buy and sell underwear, but everything in her world was upside down today.

  The young man reddened.

  “I’ll make a little,” he said shyly. “At least, I will if things don’t go up in price.”

  “Well of course I want to deal fairly,” said Martha, “and if things go up I want you to tell me. We’ll be looking this over again, of course, and I guess we can settle it between us all right. I certainly don’t want you to lose anything. And now, I think we are ready to go ahead as soon as possible. But unexpectedly I’ve got a very sick girl upstairs. It may be a few days, perhaps a week, before she will be able to have the noise going on, but we can get everything all planned out, and meantime I want to talk to you about another matter.”

  The young man’s face fell. Was there to be more delay? Farewell fond hopes of sending his baby to the shore if that was so! He could not do it without money. He sighed involuntarily.

  “I’ve been thinking about that baby of yours,” went on Martha. “The doctor has been telling me he ought to get to the shore during this hot weather.”

  “Yes,” said the young man, the shadow of despair in his eyes. “Yes, I know it, but I can’t manage it just now.”

  “Yes, but you can manage it, excuse me,” said Martha in the tone she used to use to the floorwalkers in the store when they kept her waiting. “You see, your wife can’t very well go down to the shore all alone, not with a baby, you know, and it wouldn’t do you a bit of harm to have a little change yourself. You look as if you had done some worrying over that baby, too. Your wife would have a great deal more rest if you went along, wouldn’t she?”

  “Yes, but that’s out of the question of course,” he said hopelessly. “It will be all we can do to send her and the baby, if we can manage even that.”

  “Nonsense!” said Martha eagerly. “That isn’t the way to talk. You ought to go, you know you ought. In fact you must go! And I’ve got it all planned out. I can just as well as not let you have fifty or seventy-five dollars, or even more, in advance on this job. It isn’t convenient for me to have the work started for a few days, but when my friend gets well I’d like to have it begin at once. Meantime, you could perfect your plans, get your orders in for materials, have the stuff sent here, and you could engage your men. You could do that by letter or telephone, or perhaps see them before you leave. And then day after tomorrow, you and your wife and baby could start for the shore! It ought not to take any longer than that to get ready. She won’t need fancy clothes, because it is late in the season and there are not so many people left there now. If there is any shopping she needs, either for herself or the baby, I can help her out if she hasn’t time to see to it herself, and then she can just pick up the baby’s things and put on her hat and go. You see, Ronald went down to the shore yesterday, and he found a plain house right on the beach where they won’t charge much. When you come home with a well baby and a happy wife, you’ll see it pays.”

  The architect’s eyes were sea blue with whitish lashes, and his face was salmon pink from exposure to the weather, but the sea blue eyes were swimming with salt tears now and the tears were running down his cheeks. He got out a large red-and-white handkerchief and blew his nose vigorously, wiped his eyes many times, choked and coughed.

  “I—I—I—c–c–can’t—thank—you—!” he sputtered.

  “Well, don’t try,” said Martha, getting up and going over to the window to push the shade up a little higher, just to hide her embarrassment. “It’s just common sense, you see, and there’s nothing to thank me for. The money will be yours, and you happen to need it now, so why not take it? Now, you better go right home and tell your wife and give her a chance to get ready. You better plan to take the morning train day after tomorrow, if possible. Tell your wife if she needs any help, to run over. I can sew something for her and I can order things for her at the store where I used to be, but I can’t, of course, leave here to go away while I have that sick girl to look after. Now, run along and get things going. You’ve got a lot to do.”

  He blurted out his inadequate thanks and hurried away, and in a short time a slender girl with tired eyes and a baby wrapped in a shawl appeared at the front door.

  “Oh, you’ve been so good,” said the young mother. “I had to come and tell you how happy you have made me. It doesn’t seem as if it could be true that we’re going to the shore and that Bill is going with us. You don’t know how hard it is to go away alone with the baby. I haven’t dared to leave him alone a minute since he was so sick.”

  Martha drew her into the house.

  “Never mind thanking me, child,” she said briskly. “There isn’t much time, and I know you’ve got lots to do. How can I help? Have you got everything you need?”

  “Oh, I haven’t got anything,” laughed the tired young mother hysterically, “but that doesn’t matter. I don’t mind. Do you suppose I care how I look now that this great thing has come to us? I’ve prayed—oh, how I’ve prayed—but I never believed anything like this could come.”

  “This is nothing great,” said Martha briskly. “This is common sense. Come, let’s get to work. Have you got something to travel in? You’ll need a good warm coat, too, at the seashore this time of year, you know. Have you got one? I have one I could lend you, only maybe you’ll think it is a little old-fashioned. I bought it five years ago, and it used to fit me, but I’m getting stouter and I’ve had to get a new one. I’m sorry it’s not the latest model.”

  “Old-fashioned! Why should I care about fashion? If the baby gets well, I don’t care what I wear. Thank you so much!”

  “Well, you’ll care what you wear, too. You ought to. It’s only right you should, with such a nice husband as you’ve got. But I guess you can get by with my heavy coat for now, it
isn’t so bad, and that will be one thing you won’t have to bother about now. I’ll shake it out and hang it in the yard to get the mothballs out of it, and you can get it later. Have you got a suit?”

  The girl flushed.

  “Why, yes—that is, I had one, but I burnt the front with a coal that jumped out of the fire when I was raking it in a hurry just before I ran for the doctor. I ought to have fixed it before, but the baby has been so very sick. Maybe I can get time to clean and press it and turn a pleat or two so the holes won’t show. Anyhow, I don’t mind. And I’ve got a good linen skirt and a blouse, and I can wear the jacket with them.”

  “You need a suit,” said Martha, “and there’s no time to do any sewing and pressing today. Your job is to get that baby ready with as little fuss as possible, and you don’t want to get all tired out either. You’ll need every bit of strength. So you better let me do some thinking for you. Suppose you leave the baby with me for a while, go back and get some milk or whatever he eats and bring it here, and then you go right downtown and get whatever you need. The baby will be all right with me, I’m sure, and we can make a little bed here on the couch with two chairs beside it. You’ve got to get what you should have quickly or you won’t get off tomorrow. You buy a suit! Get good material. That’s economy in the end. I’ll give you the name of one of the saleswomen down at the store where I used to work. She’ll help you decide. It’s got to be the right color, and she’ll know a good bargain. They always have them this time of year. Get something simple with good lines and stylish enough so it won’t get right out of fashion. That lasts longer. You better get some shoes and gloves, too, and a nice little hat to go with your suit. Anything else you need. Don’t be afraid. And charge them all to my account. Then I can settle with your husband later when he gets to building for me. You needn’t worry. Your husband is going to succeed in his business, and you’ll have enough money to live comfortably pretty soon, I’m sure. Can you go right away?”