Blue Ruin

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Say, Lynn, what about the pyramids? Heard anything of them yet? Don’t forget to drop me a line written in front of it, and say, bring me a bag of sand from the desert, can’t you? A square inch will do, and it won’t cost anything. You can put it in your glove and they’ll never catch on.

  And say, Kid, pick me out something nice for Muth, and for the Old Sport, too. Make it snappy. I’m getting a job tomorrow down at Smith’s garage, and I can pay around twenty-five bucks apiece by the time you get home, I guess, so go to it, Kid!

  There isn’t much yet to say, but I guess there will be by next week, so long till then, Yours as ever,

  So long!

  Lim

  P.S. I forgot to say, Don’t you write to that sucker! Not even if he writes, don’t you answer! You wouldn’t want to if you knew all. Take it from your brother who loves you. He’s a flat tire! And someday good and soon you ‘re going to find it out.

  So long!

  E.B.

  With a sigh of relief he read the letter over, folded it, and stuffed it into a pocket-worn envelope. That was done now and he could breathe easier. Now, if Lynnie wanted to throw herself away he had done his duty to her, and he’d wash his hands.

  He decided to mail his letter at once before his mother got back. It would be better that way. Muth might object to worrying Lynnie that way, but a man had to decide those things himself now and then. A woman didn’t always understand how doggone lowdown another man could be when he tried. Maybe he would tell Muth sometime, and maybe not, but anyhow he would run no risks with having the letter held up.

  So he got his bicycle and sailed off to the post office, and when he came back, Justine Whipple was waiting for him at the gate, a paper bag in her hand full of hot cookies that she had stolen from Amelia’s new baking, set to cool in the back kitchen.

  “Elim, I wish you’d take these up to your grandmother with my love,” she called holding out the paper bag with an alluring odor of cinnamon and raisins.

  Elim slowed down, looked suspiciously at the bag, and gave Miss Justine the “once over” as he called it.

  “Your sister’s away, isn’t she?” she asked in tones of honeyed sweetness.

  “Yep!” said Elim holding his bicycle by one toe touching the ground, wavering back and forth and eyeing her gravely, but making no attempt to take the cookies. What had the old girl got up her sleeve now, he wondered. She couldn’t put anything across on him. He knew his onions!

  “Oh, that’s disappointing, isn’t it, when she’s just got back home! Is she going to be gone long?” cooed Justine.

  “Yep!” said Elim succinctly.

  “She is?” Justine gathered in the truth like a hungry person. “And did your mother go, too?”

  “Yep!”

  “Oh! Why, then your grandmother is all alone, isn’t she?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh, she isn’t? She has someone staying with her, has she?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh—well, then it’s all right. I was just going to suggest that I might come up and stay nights. But you say she has someone?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well,” bridled Miss Justine, “of course. Well, that’s very nice, and I’ve got company, too. But I came out to say that I’m sending these cookies up to your grandmother. I thought she might enjoy them. She used to like my cookies.” Justine never made a cookie in her life, but that made no difference in a case like this. She proffered the cookies as if they were pearls, with smiles. Elim accepted them reluctantly and held them with the tips of this thumb and finger as if they were a dead rat, but he did not relax his cold stare, nor thank her. He did not trust her. And he was impatient to be off.

  “Where did your sister go?” she asked quite casually as she stepped back from the curb after forcing the cookies upon Elim.

  “Oh, all around,” said Elim casually. “She’s traveling in Europe. Gub–by!” and he shot off around the house, leaving an astounded maiden lady standing tottering on the curbstone staring after him in dismay. Lynette gone to Europe!

  She stood a moment looking after him, recovering her poise, and then, having adjusted what Grandmother Whipple called her cat-and-cream expression, she went slowly, smilingly, home and sat down at the table where the family was already assembled.

  “You’re late, Justine!” snapped Grandma, fixing her sharp little eyes upon her. Nothing ever escaped Grandma. She knew Justine was up to something.

  “Yes,” said Justine, accepting her plate from Amelia, “I was talking to Elim Brooke. I thought Grandma Rutherford might need someone to stay with her, poor old soul! Mrs. Brooke and her daughter went away yesterday morning, you know. I thought it might be my duty to run up and stay nights, but he says they have someone. Do you know who it is Dana? Elim didn’t say, and he seemed in a hurry so I didn’t detain him.”

  But Dana was suddenly busy giving Jessie Belle another lamb chop and seemed not to hear. Grandma kept her eyes on her plate thoughtfully and did not seem surprised. Amelia was standing behind Justine filling her glass with ice water, and Justine could not see the startled look in her eyes. Justine waited a minute and then raised her voice a trifle to make sure of attention.

  “So it seems Lynette has gone to Europe!”

  She flung the sentence into the conversation like a bomb and enjoyed the sensation it created immensely.

  Dana was helping himself to more potatoes and feigned an indifference he was far from feeling.

  “Isn’t that something new?” pursued Justine persistently. “Did you know she was going, Dana?”

  “She has been contemplating it for some time, I believe,” said Dana coolly, reaching for the butter plate and helping himself bountifully.

  Then up spoke Amelia, stung into action by the superiority of Justine.

  “It’s a pity you hadn’t decided to go along, Dana. I felt all along you should. What’s a few summer engagements to preach when you have an opportunity to travel with people who are congenial?”

  Grandma cackled her appreciation.

  Dana flashed a look of surprise at his mother, but came across in fine shape.

  “Well, Mother, duty is duty, and a promise is a promise. I gave my word I’d fill those pulpits, and I can’t go back on it. This is a critical time in my career! Besides it takes money to go to Europe, and I ought to be saving up for the future.”

  “Oh, money!” said Amelia with a toss of her head. “What’s money in a case like this? You knew I’d see that you had what you needed! I’ve got some saved up of my own!”

  Justine looked up with a sneer in her eye, and Grandma cackled again. Life was rare these days.

  “Well, Mother, I didn’t go,” said Dana smiling. “I thought my duty was at home this summer,” and beamed upon the table with a self-righteous smile that was charming. Even Jessie Belle succumbed to it and showed her dimple in admiration of him.

  “It’s not too late yet!” said his mother with a surprising show of initiation. “You could catch the next boat if you started tomorrow. I was reading about the sailings this afternoon in the paper. And you could telegraph tonight for reservations.”

  Dana looked startled but went on eating his supper, steadily.

  “I couldn’t possibly do it, Mother. I’ve telegraphed that church I’d be there the third of August. It’s all settled. Besides, I may run over in September, if Lynette stays so long. I don’t know. Have another chop, Jessie Belle? They are awfully small ones. You must be hungry after your ride.”

  “Yes, Jezebel, eat ‘em up!” piped up Grandma to the surprise of everybody. “Justine never eats a second one, and Amelia never has time to. Eat ‘em up, Jezebel! No use having to put any away!”

  “Oh, Mrs. Whipple, you’re a scream!” giggled Jessie Belle. “Oh, I love the way you call me Jezebel, don’t you, Ella? I thought I’d simply pass away the first time I heard it.”

  Ella Smith grew very red and tried to apologize for her child to Madame Whipple, but the old lady only
grinned and went on drinking her tea.

  Justine cast a dark look at Grandma, but smiled back sweetly at Jessie Belle.

  “Yes, Jessie Belle, dear, take the chop. I don’t think I care for a second one tonight, really.”

  Then she continued her pursuit of knowledge.

  “How long does Lynette stay in Europe, Dana? Elim seemed to think she would be gone a long time.”

  “Probably a year. It’s a little uncertain,” answered Dana glibly as if he knew all about it. “They may take in the Mediterranean trip if they winter in Italy. They are going to follow their own fancy after they get over there, I believe.” Dana still believed in his heart that Lynette would return that evening duly humbled, but time would take care of that.

  “They? Who are they?” caught up Justine avidly. “Just Lynette and her mother?”

  “No, her mother only went down to see her off. She went with relatives. Her uncle and aunt.”

  “Oh, that must be a very expensive trip. I wonder how Lynette can afford it. They never seemed very well off. Their house needs painting terribly!” Justine’s lip curled bitterly as she said it. Amelia was on the defensive at once.

  “People who don’t pull all their money in show and improvements have plenty left for traveling and luxuries. Besides, I’ve been told that Lynette’s grandmother is very wealthy indeed. Someone told me the other day at the missionary meeting that Mrs. Rutherford pays the largest income tax in town.”

  Grandma cackled enjoyably.

  “Is that so, Dana? You ought to know,” asked Justine with her head on one side like a saucy bird.

  “Well,” said Dana, preening himself somewhat, “I have no means of knowing her exact income of course, but she always seems to have plenty of money for anything she wants to do. She is always giving Lynette something nice. I believe it was she who sent her to college, which explains her choice of colleges, I think. She is old fashioned in her ideas, you know, and Lynn adores her and humors her every whim, although I do think in this case she should have taken her stand for Wellesley or Vassar or some better-known institution.”

  Dana was playing to the galleries, the gallery in this case being Jessie Belle. Dana did love to make a show of power. He loved to parade his opportunities and his wealthy friends, and his advantages, even before this foolish little scatterbrain.

  “I wonder you didn’t go down and see Lynette off yourself, Dana!” cooed Justine, attacking the subject proper again. “It would have been so interesting. Something to remember. I just love to see people off. Why didn’t you go, Dana, deah?”

  “Well, I did think of it quite seriously,” said Dana, pleased to be still the center of interest. “In fact I almost started, but I decided there would be little pleasure about it. Just a big mob and a long wait, and Lynette was going to be awfully busy shopping beforehand so there wouldn’t have been much satisfaction.”

  “And is she going to write to you? Won’t it be interesting to be having all sorts of foreign stamps coming to the house?”

  “I shall be hearing from her from time to time, of course,” answered Dana with a gratified smile, “and perhaps if things shape up I might get over while she’s there. I can’t tell!”

  Dana shoved back his chair with finality and arose.

  “How about another picture tonight, Jessie Belle? I shan’t have much time later on, but I might as well amuse you while I can.”

  They watched them go, Justine with a smile of satisfaction and a furtive triumph flung at Amelia. Ella Smith, like a frightened hen whose duck was swimming. Amelia with a snort of baffled fury. The old lady sat by her window far into the twilight and looked out across the mountains where the blue ruin grew like smoke and laughed softly to herself, until Amelia thought she should go insane.

  As Jessie Belle and Dana went down the street arm in arm, a long, fringed, brilliant shawl of magenta silk hanging over Dana’s arm, they passed Elim and his mother just coming home from the New York train in Scarlett’s old Ford. Mrs. Brooke looked out and expected to speak, but Dana did not look up nor seem to see them, and Elim whistled, pointedly, with sharp stoccato notes, “I wonder—who’s kissing her—now!”

  Mrs. Brooke watched them walking away into the twilight and felt she had her answer to her prayer for guidance. She had been praying all the way home. She had not done wrong to urge Lynette to go abroad!

  “Gee, Muth! I’d like to wallop that cuss!” broke forth Elim when they were almost home.

  “Elim!”

  “Well, I would, Muth. And don’t the Bible say it’s just as bad to wantta as to do it? Well, then, why can’t I do it? It ain’t any worse than what I have to do now, is it? And it would do Dana a whole lot of good! It would be an experience. Dana needs experience, Muth!”

  “Elim, don’t talk that way! It is terrible! What has Dana been doing to stir you up so? Anything new?”

  “Aw! He’s a rotten sucker! That’s all! Wait till I tell ya. You stick around till Gramma goes to bed. Ain’t any need ta worry her with it. She’s game all right, but why worry her?”

  So Mary Brooke “stuck around,” and Elim told her, and after that she was doubly sure that she had been right in urging Lynette to go abroad.

  But yet, she was troubled about Dana. Oughtn’t she to do something for Dana, the friend of Lynette’s childhood? Hadn’t they a responsibility toward him? It is true he had acted most indifferently toward Lynette, but perhaps there had been something to excuse him. Still, what could she do but pray for Dana? And pray she did with a heart like lead, but a faith that laid him at the foot of the cross and asked for his salvation from self and sin. She did not pray that he might be made fit for her daughter to love. She did not feel that her wisdom was able to judge whether or not that was a right prayer. It was for God who knew the end from the beginning and reads the human heart perfectly to judge that. She must be content to let the matter lie in God’s hand. And yet she prayed that Dana would be kept from utter ruin, and she prayed with a heart of love, too.

  And Dana, walking the ways of what he knew was temptation, and thinking himself strong to keep from falling, strong in his own fine character, strong with the education and culture he had acquired, strong in his pride of family and church, strong in the strength of what he expected to be someday, yet went and put himself in the way of death and tried to enjoy it awhile just for the experience.

  Nor was Mary Brooke’s prayer that night wholly without immediate answer, for the silver screen flashed a story before Dana’s indolent eyes that should have been a warning to him, if anything can warn a man who is so wise in his own conceit. For God can make even the wrath of man to praise Him, and that night He must have used that picture to answer that prayer and send a warning to Dana Whipple’s sleeping soul.

  Grandma Whipple was not one to read her Bible much, but she asked for it that night and studied over it awhile, flipping the leaves back and forth till she found what she wanted. She got out a pencil and paper from the little stand drawer by her side and wrote with her rheumatic fingers a line or two.

  Dana’s big white college sweater lay on a chair not far away. She poked at it with her crutch while Amelia was out of the room and Justine and Ella reading over in the parlor. She pinned the paper to the sweater, quite conspicuously, and hobbled over to a chair by the hall door, laying the sweater across it where Dana would be sure to see it and take it upstairs with him. Then she announced to Amelia that she was ready to go to bed, and she lay a long time under the blankets chuckling to herself at what she had done, what she was going to do perhaps, if things didn’t come out the way they ought to.

  “You’re a smart woman, Amelia,” she said by way of good night, “but you haven’t enough git-up-and-git! You were real smart tonight several times, but you didn’t keep it up. If I was as smart as you I’d never let that Jezebel woman get away with what she has set out for. Better go to bed and think that over. You didn’t take my advice in time or you might have had Lynette here yet!”

&nb
sp; After Amelia had shut Grandma’s door she went over to the paper pinned on the sweater and read what Grandma had written there, but she did not dare to unpin the paper and throw the note away. Or perhaps she thought it wiser to let it alone. Anyway, she left it there. It might have been due just to her lack of “git-up-and-git.”

  The words that Grandma had written on the paper were these:

  “He that walketh with wise men shall be wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed.”

  When Dana found it later in the evening and took it up to his room, he read and pondered over it for some time, with a frown. Now what could Grandma mean by that? For the old lady never did anything without a purpose, and that was unmistakably her writing. Was it in the nature of a threat or a promise? Dana went thoughtfully to bed and spent some wakeful hours in profitable meditation. And yet, his eyes were so blinded by his own conceit that he walked blindly back into danger the very next day.

  Chapter 17

  Lynette was not left long to think her sad thoughts alone that afternoon. Dorothy came pouncing down upon her and carried her off to see the boat. Led her the lengths of the decks, up and down, through cabins and corridors until she felt lost and bewildered, but for the time her regrets and anxieties were put aside and she was just a girl, off for a good time with her cousin.

  Dorothy was tall, and slim, and with pretty features and a good-looking haircut, rather boyish though it was. She was cheerful and a bit impertinent in her way, but it was such a pretty way, and she seemed so cocksure of herself that Lynette felt a sort of fascination in watching her. They had not been together for four years, except for the three days that she had spent in New York on her way home, and the fascination had not yet worn off. Dorothy was only seventeen, but she actually seemed older than Lynette, who was just twenty-one. Dorothy had assumed the position of mentor to her cousin at once.

  “Now, we’re going to our stateroom and unpack,” she announced after they had made the rounds of the ship most thoroughly, located their deck chairs, and summed up the points of vantage generally.