Spice Box

by Grace Livingston Hill

  The cat was sitting trustingly in the window, blinking and watching for her return when she got back, and Martha almost felt a pang of remorse for this poor creature who was not going along. Fancy Martha Spicer thinking about a cat’s comfort!

  So Ernestine had a nice saucer of cream for her lunch and a piece of a chop that was left over. She ate it gratefully and sat licking her whiskers without suspicion. But the next morning when they were about to start, Martha suddenly gathered the cat up, bundled her into a big shawl, and carried her out the door.

  Ernestine was wise enough to realize that the worst had come. She bucked and scratched in a dignified way, but Martha’s arm was firm and determined, and the shawl was bewildering. She felt herself presently transferred to another arm even more firm and determined, felt a gentle pat on her still-covered head, and heard Martha say, “Good-bye, Ernestine, we’ll soon be home. Thank you, Mrs. MacFarland. I hope Ernestine won’t make you any trouble.”

  “Ernestine, make trouble, indeed!” protested the cat in one long, dismal howl. “It is far, far, more likely that the woman will make trouble for Ernestine!”

  The shawl was removed, and Ernestine, from the window, was permitted to watch her traitoress-mistress and the stranger-guest depart in a taxi. After which she was allowed to get down on the floor, where she immediately took refuge behind the sofa, glaring out greenly and watching every time the door opened.

  She bided her time till Ronald rushed in, leaving the door open, and then like some belated comet, she fled, making a beeline for the hole under her own steps, where she took refuge in trembling rage in a dark corner of Martha’s cellar, her green lamps shining out balefully into the silence and darkness.

  So, Martha started on her first real vacation.

  Ronald arrived at the station only two minutes later than his ladies and took possession of the suitcases, bought the tickets, and swelled around generally, as if such duties were a regular part of his daily life. The trip was an exciting one, personally conducted by Ronald, who had made it before and therefore could identify and introduce every sight along the way.

  The big plain cottage, to which they presently came, needed painting, but was spacious and looked toward the sea. The new boarders didn’t mind the shabbiness. And there were wide porches running all around the house on every floor.

  As they climbed the stairs the Robertses came out in the hall to greet them and ask if there was anything they could do for their comfort and then immediately apologized as they saw the offended look on Ronald’s face. “Oh, excuse me, Ron. I didn’t know you were along. Of course you’ve looked after everything.”

  It was soon time for supper, and Martha looked proudly at Janice as she came down in her pretty plaid skirt and trim white blouse. She certainly was a pretty girl.

  Ronald escorted them into the dining room with the air of owning the place, and said “Hello” to the waiter, who grinned back. Ronald pulled out the chairs for the ladies as if he were an old hand at the business, and Martha’s heart swelled with pride in him.

  Janice wasn’t equal to doing much walking yet, but after supper Ronald came flourishing up to the porch with a double wheelchair and, putting both his ladies in it, wheeled them off triumphantly.

  They leaned their heads back and looked off to sea and felt suddenly intimate with the great ocean.

  “Oh,” said Janice with a sigh of delight, “I’ve always wanted to be alone with the ocean for a little while and really get acquainted with it. I used to get up in the morning when I was a little girl and we went to the shore, just so that I could see the ocean before the crowds got there and trifled with it. It always seems to me that the ocean gets reserved and kind of retires into itself, gets that faraway look in its eyes, you know, when a great lot of people come around it and prance up and down on the boardwalk looking at each other and never casting a glance out to sea. Don’t you think so?”

  “Why, I never thought about it,” said Martha, looking in wonder at this shy little girl of hers who had suddenly turned out to be a sort of poet. Were such thoughts really learned, or were they merely childish fancies? Her life had been so entirely practical that somehow she was at a loss to know. But the fancies pleased her, and she smiled indulgently on the sweet girl.

  The next morning Ronald wanted to teach Janice to swim, but Martha said she wasn’t strong enough yet, so Ronald compromised on a crabbing expedition.

  They rode on the outlet trolley, with the ocean spray dashing up around the wheel of the car at one place. They found a boat awaiting them with all the paraphernalia for crabbing, and even Martha submitted in taking a part in the frolic. Ronald had paid the fare, and when Martha had protested, he said, “Whaddaya think I am? A tightwad? Whaddaya think I earned all that money for, working at the grocery, if I didn’t have a place to spend it?”

  They climbed down the wooden steps into the wide, comfortable boat, held their skirts away from the pile of wet strings, raw meat, and long-handled bag nets, and sat where they were told. Then they were rowed silently, breathlessly, out into the bright golden and blue water, still as a piece of glass, out amid the tall, fringing grasses that rose like a hedge and shut them in, with fleecy white clouds reflected here and there in the water, like spirit boats out on cruises of their own.

  At last they drew near a big island of grass and anchored. Ronald attended to the details with the air of professionalism, for while the others were sleeping he had thoroughly acquainted himself with the business and knew just what to do next. He already knew more than the man who had taught him.

  Yes, this was the crab bed; those voices over on the other side of the island that sounded like detached spirits were more people crabbing.

  “There’s one, be careful! Oh, I lost him,” Ronald shouted, and Martha suddenly became filled with a desire to see one of those creatures they had come out to hunt—a creature to whom she had often been likened in the old days in the store.

  “Yes,” said Ronald, “those dirty wet strings are lines, and the pile of raw meat is bait.” But when she perceived that she would be expected to take those dirty wet things in her hands and manipulate them, drop them into the grassy water to lure the crabs from the mud in which they lived, she shuddered. She even began to feel a little sorry for her victims.

  When at last there came a tug at the end of her line and she dipped the net and lifted it, and two fierce, angry eyes like long, piercing telescopes appeared above the water and looked at her, she shrank in horror. Was that what they thought she looked like? With a cry, she almost dropped her net, till Ronald, always ready for emergencies, rescued the crab and landed it in the box in the bottom of the boat.

  “He’s a honey! He’s a lulu!” cried the boy. “I guess they’ll be astonished at the house when I tell them you caught him!”

  Martha smiled. She liked the praise, but she hadn’t got over her fright and the curious feeling that the ugly frantic creature with the mad vindictive gaze might be herself thus embodied. Nevertheless, the enchantment had fallen upon her and she went on working as hard as any of them to catch a lot of crabs.

  The sun was high when they turned back, and people were singing all sorts of tunes as they came out of the lagoons and wended their way back to their hotels. Cheerful, modern songs most of them were, but one boatload was singing, “Brighten the corner where you are.” Martha looking at the big old crab she had caught, as he sat blinking and belligerent in his box, and wondered if even a crab could possibly change—that is a human crab—and brighten the corner of any old box where he might find himself. She would see!

  They went to a football game that afternoon. Martha Spicer at a football game! Think of it! But Ronald had the tickets, a gift from an old pal of his in the city who worked at the powder mills and played on their ball team. He was down at the shore playing a local team and had met Ronald and given him the tickets. Martha wouldn’t have gone, but she saw the wistful look in Ronald’s eyes and heard the excitement of pleasure from Janice
, so she went.

  A fresh sea breeze had come up, and it was really chilly.

  “Ronald, go and get your overcoat,” said Martha as they gathered, ready to watch the game. “There’s a sea breeze, and it’s really chilly.”

  “No chance!” said Ronald amusedly.

  “But you must!” said Martha. “I can’t have you getting sick from catching cold, away from home.”

  Ronald sobered.

  “Can’t!” he said firmly.

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause I haven’t got any,” he said with a grin.

  “Do you mean you came down here without your overcoat?” she asked severly.

  “Sure!” said Ronald, still grinning. “Didn’t have one to bring. Never owned an overcoat in my life and never expect to.”

  “Oh!” gasped Martha. “Well, haven’t you got a sweater or something?”

  “Sweater wasn’t fit to bring. Got it half tore off me at the last football game.”

  They walked on a few steps down the boardwalk, and then Martha looked up at the window of a big shop along the way and a sudden idea struck her. Her practiced eye scanned the display in the window, and halting at the door, she said, “Wait here just a minute. I want to go in. I won’t be but a minute or two.”

  Ronald frowned but tried to look polite.

  Martha went in, held a brief conversation with a man behind the counter, and came out with a white sweater over her arm. She held it out to Ronald.

  “Will that fit you?” she asked. “Put it on and see if it’s all right. It’s yours.”

  The boy looked at it, bewilderment, delight, and incredulous amazement in his face.

  “Aw, gee!” he said. “Oh boy! You didn’t go and get that for me! Oh boy!” His eyes were like blue stars.

  Martha nodded, her own eyes full of pleasure.

  He whipped off his coat and on with the sweater in no time. It proved to be all right. Years of experience had made Martha a pretty good judge of size.

  “Some class!” went on Ronald, admiring himself. “Boy! Won’t the fellas at home envy me! Boy! I never thought I’d have a white sweater! Gee, I gotta crush on myself!”

  He stared at himself in the front windows they passed, and turned around to Janice and demanded admiration. He stuck out a bashful hand and shook Martha’s vigoriously.

  “I certainly do thank you,” he said. “It’s what I always wanted.” Then he straightened up and walked with his head held high in a self-respecting way.

  Of course, they had a good time after that.

  Martha learned a lot about football, too. She found she knew what a touchdown was, and which colors on the sweaters represented which teams, and who was left tackle, and a lot of other things. And then they met Blinnie the bashful left tackle himself, and Martha remarked, “We must invite him to supper sometime!” and filled Ronald with supreme delight. But he only said, “Oh boy! That’ll be swell!”

  And so Martha stood up with the crowd and added her elderly voice to the yell that rose in favor of Blinnie, and went home numbering yet another boy to her list of exceptions in the way of boys.

  Chapter 14

  Sunday began with a difference of opinion between Martha and Ronald on the subject of church attendance, but in the end, Ronald went to church to please her, and sang with the rest.

  But in the afternoon they went to sit out on a pier for a little while to watch the ocean, and Ronald was telling all he had learned from an old sea captain down by the lighthouse. He informed them what kind of boats were passing on the far horizon, interspersing his knowledge with bits of sea stories.

  A little child not more than three years old, who had wandered away from her parents who were sitting on the other side of the pier, came to laugh and talk with Ronald for a few minutes and then ran away to play with some shells that someone had given her. She had gold curls and great blue eyes and made a sweet picture. Ronald slumped down in his chair and watched her between the fringes of his eyes. Suddenly they heard a piercing scream, saw a little bright flash of blue skirts and gold hair, a frightened baby face going overboard, and the great gulf of angry waters frothing with foam swallowed her up!

  Three men looked down from the railing at the boiling waters beneath and shook their heads.

  “Not much chance for anybody down there,” they said gloomily and looked off toward the creeping speck of a lifeboat from the upper pier. “Who does she belong to?”

  But Ronald was up like a flash flinging off his sweater, kicking off his shoes.

  “That boat’s too far off to get here in time,” said the second man, pointing to the lifeboat.

  “Which way is the current?” asked the third man, looking uncertainly down into the water. “Which way will it carry her? I wonder if there is a rope anywhere around we could throw down to her!”

  “Chances are she’ll strike the piles,” murmured the first man. “There might be a rope back by the casino. I wonder where the life preservers are?” But he made no move to do anything.

  But Ronald was vaulting over the rail, diving into the water, and being engulfed in its flood.

  People rushed to the rail now as a great murmur arose from the throng of watchers who had suddenly gathered and watched the brave boy battling with the waves. And in the forefront stood Martha and Janice, white and frantic.

  “Plucky little fellow!” said one of the three men behind them. “Too bad we didn’t see him in time to stop him. He’ll never make it! No use! The baby’s gone!”

  But out to the right, away from the pier, were two specks, a tiny one, yellow and floating like golden seaweed, and a dark one a little nearer the pier, fighting outward toward the golden speck.

  It was then that Janice picked up Ronald’s white sweater and began to wave it frantically toward that little boat that was coming on nearer and nearer. And now the watchers saw the boat had sighted the trouble and was steering toward it. They stood and held their breath and waited.

  It was some minutes since the golden speck had been seen on the water, and now the dark one disappeared. Oh God, were they gone? Was it too late? The boat was almost there!

  Hours and hours it seemed they watched, as the boat drew nearer, seemed to halt, maneuver, and then come toward the shore. Oh, the long distance to come before they would know. The weeping of the child’s mother could be heard.

  But at last the boat drew near enough for them to see. There was someone—something lying in the bottom. And then the strong men who manned it sprang out, one with a burden in his arms.

  It was then the three men who had been watching bestirred themselves to show what men they were.

  A great rough sailor in oilskins came splashing through the water bearing the little maid with dripping golden hair, clinging blue dress, and laid her in her mother’s arms. She was alive, they said. The boy had saved her. He had caught her by the hair and held her till the lifeboat reached her. But they must both have attention at once.

  And there was Ronald, lying white and still in the bottom of the boat, one arm hanging limply by his side. He had broken it against the pile in that first wave after his dive.

  With grave faces and tender hands those rough men lifted him and bore him to the blankets that kind hands had brought. A watcher from the lifeguard station hurried up on a motorcycle; a doctor came; a plain, gray-haired woman knelt silently by the boy’s side; and the crowd waited and watched. Everything that science could do for Ronald’s flickering life was being done. And yet it seemed it was an hour before the boy opened his blue eyes and set them upon Martha’s face. He gave one comprehensive glance around and then weakly said, “Aw, gee, Miss Spicer, that wasn’t nothing. I’m gonta get up in a minute.”

  They got him to the house wrapped in blankets and plied him with hot water bottles and stimulants. At last he looked up and asked, “Did I get the little kid? I somehow got kinda nutty and can’t remember.”

  And when they told him she was coming around all right he murmured softly, �
��Boy, she was a pretty little kid and awful light!”

  It was then that Martha broke down and wept, and cried out softly to him, “Oh, my dear, dear boy! How I love you!”

  Kneeling there beside his bed where he lay with a contented grin on his young face, and her hand held tight in the grip of his unhurt right hand, she did not remember how she used to think all boys were a torment.

  The baby’s father came hobbling in on crutches to thank the young hero, and after he had gone, Martha and the Robertses and Janice made some plans. Ronald, of course, would not be able to return in the morning, but Janice and Mrs. Roberts could easily look after him with the help of a nurse, if necessary. Mr. Roberts declared his intention of going to the city in the morning. He had men who were finishing a job that he must look after. He said he would tell Ronald’s mother and ask permission to keep him at the shore till he was able to travel. But Martha felt that she should go herself. Besides, if Mr. Roberts wanted to set his men at work soon she must be there at least for a day or so to put away some things and superintend some men to move her things into a place of safety where they would not be in the way while the workmen were busy.

  “If your house is in shape for the work to begin, I’ll start tomorrow,” said Roberts. “We’ll get that other job finished by noon, and I can start my men pulling down partitions right away. There’ll have to be some beams set and some shoring up to prevent any cracking of walls.”

  Martha gasped and felt suddenly frightened at her temerity in going so far, while yet a thrill of delight passed over her that this lovely change was really about to begin.

  “I could get things ready for you by noon if I can find a couple of men to help me move things,” she said. “If it were not for Ronald, of course, I’d go up and stay.”

  “We can look after Ronald,” said Janice capably. “Remember, I’m a nurse. But oh, I wish I were able to do the work in the city. Couldn’t you tell me what to do and let me go to your place?”