Bright Arrows (19 page)

"Yes, I'm Janet, an' yersel' must be Miss Vesta, my leddy's co-lidge roommate. I've seen yer likeness. She's thet fond o' yer bonnie picter, an' she'll be ower glad tae see ye. Coom in an' I'll ca' her."

"And, Janet, this is my brother Niles. We're on our way to Florida and we stopped off just to see Eden!"

Suddenly Eden upstairs heard the beloved voice of her old friend and hurried down to greet her.

It was a glad reunion, for Eden had been very fond of her former roommate, and she had not seen her for more than a year. For the first few minutes the time was occupied with questions and answers, accounting for what each had been doing, and the handsome brother sat by and watched the lovely stranger. For once he thoroughly agreed with his sister's judgment of the right girl for a friend for her. As a rule he had some fault to find with all her girlfriends, but this girl seemed not only really beautiful, but she seemed exceedingly intelligent, a good conversationalist with a good sense of humor. Even though she had just been through a severe sorrow, she was able to laugh merrily, which was a relief, for he had counted on this visit being quite sad, full of sob stuff. But the recent death of Eden's father had only been mentioned casually, and his sister's words of sympathy had been received with a gentle smile.

"Yes, I knew you would understand and sympathize with me," Eden had said tenderly. "I was sure you would understand how hard it had been for me. But, you know, Vesta, we had such a beautiful time the last few weeks together. Dad talked with me about his going and tried to make it plain just what I would have to meet, and so even yet, though I miss him terribly, I still feel that I am just on a journey and have to go on until the time comes to meet him again. He made it seem that way. And now, tell me where you have been all this time and what you have been doing since you left college."

And then the talk floated off into reminiscences of their journeys and interests, and there was hardly a chance for the brother to get a word in edgewise, until he suddenly broke in upon their chatter:

"Vesta, are you still determined to take that twelve-thirty train? Because, if so, we've barely time to get to the station before it comes."

"Oh, but you mustn't," protested Eden. "We haven't half caught up on old times yet. You'll have to stay here to lunch, of course. If I know Janet, she's got some kind of a lunch ready. It may not be up to our usual style because our butler had an accident and has been very sick. He's better now and we hope will soon be up and taking his part in the household regime, but in the meantime we're taking whatever can be gotten together in a hurry. Do you mind? Yes, here's Janet. They're ready for us. And surely there are other trains. After all this long time apart you
must
stay a little longer.
Please!
"

The young man smiled at the eager light in the girl's lovely eyes, and then his own eyes sought his sister's face.

"We could take the train later, Vesta," he said leniently, to let her know he was not being bored as he had expected.

"All right," said the sister. "We'll wait for the afternoon train, provided you'll consider going with us to Florida. Will you?"

A shadow of gravity came over Eden's bright face.

"Oh! That would be lovely, of course, but I really couldn't think of going away anywhere just now. Perhaps sometime later, but I'm not sure."

Then they began to tease her, to present every possible argument to induce her to go with them, but she was firm.

"I really couldn't think of leaving my home while Tabor is so sick."

"But isn't he just a servant? Can't you trust the other servants and your doctor and nurse to look after him? I think that's absurd to let a servant interfere with your own plans and happiness."

"You don't understand, Vesta," said Eden earnestly. "Tabor is one of us. He has been with my father since my father and mother were married. Before I was born he was here, and we all love him very much. And now that he is getting better, he likes me to read to him, and sing for him sometimes. No, I could not go anywhere at present. But I wish you would promise to stop here on your way back. I think we could have some nice times together."

"Well, perhaps we will. But, better still, why not come down to us for a while after your servant gets well enough to leave?"

Eden gave a swift review of her unconsidered near future, hesitated, and smiled.

"Well, that sounds pleasant. I'll think about it and see how things turn out. I can't really promise yet. It depends a little on several other people just what plans I can make."

"Oh, now, now," said the young man, "that doesn't sound very hopeful. You haven't any other servants who are coming down with something and have to be nursed, have you? Or you haven't got a young man hanging around somewhere who has a hold on you?"

Eden laughed and shook her head. "No, I hope not, but there are several matters I have to look after, and I'm not sure how long they may take. But I'll really think about it and see if it can be managed."

Afterward, when the pleasant guests had left on the afternoon train and Eden was alone, she sat and thought about it a few minutes and tried to be frank with herself. She decided that the truth was, she just didn't want to go away anywhere even in delightful company. She wanted to stay here and go on getting acquainted with this new life.

Then she suddenly remembered that parting fling: "You haven't got a young man hanging around somewhere who has a hold on you?" and her face grew sober. Was it possible that Lance Lorrimer was getting too interested? Ought she perhaps to go away and put a stop to any such interest before it got a hold on her? She didn't know a thing about the young lawyer except that he was a Christian. He might be engaged, or even married, for all she knew, and she simply must not allow herself to let her thoughts dwell too interestedly on him. At least not now. Not till she knew more about him. And, of course, he wasn't interested in her except to help her. They certainly had a right to a bit of pleasant friendship on that score.

But the thought lingered with her, and she had to own that she liked him a lot. She really hadn't thought about him before in the light of a possible close companion, and she mustn't, either. Her father's words of warning, her mother's letters reminded her that she must go carefully.

But on the way to the city to take the evening train for Florida, with maybe a stopover in Washington, the Nevin brother and sister were discussing the recent visit.

"Well, she's some girl, I grant you. I don't wonder you raved so over her when you came back from college. I thought you were crazy, you know, you talked so much about her, and to tell you the truth, I didn't see stopping over there today to see a colorless little girl like that, even if her father was famous and she did have a private income of her own, as you saw fit to emphasize again and again. But now I've seen her, I don't wonder in the least. I certainly hope she gets loose from that doddering old servant of hers pretty soon and that we can coax her down to Florida with us. I could go for her in a big way. She's some girl, and I wouldn't care whether she had any old inheritance or not. What's money when you find the right girl? I believe I've found her, thanks to my sister. Now, Vesta, are you satisfied?"

Vesta smiled.

"I knew you would like her, Niles. That's why I was so insistent about going. I certainly spent time on you when I was in college trying to get you two together. I couldn't think of any more ideal relative to have as a sister than Eden."

"Well, didn't I always tell you you had good taste, my lady-sister?"

"Oh, don't be silly. I'm just happy to think you liked her. The only trouble is, I'm afraid you'll find some dizzy blond down in Florida and fall for her even harder than for Eden."

Niles gave her a grin that acknowledged he knew his own weakness.

"Okay," he said. "I know I've fallen for a good many, but not so hard I couldn't be sure I wouldn't find somebody better. However, you know, I'm growing older. The time has got to come when one reaches a maturity. He does get a little sense and realize that he must settle down for keeps. However, if you object to my present admiration, I presume I can find someone else to rave over, until we get home at least."

"Oh, stop acting like a fool, Niles, and talk sense. I'm terribly glad you liked Eden, and perhaps we'll get a chance to see more of her this winter. In the meantime, when and where are we going to stop in Washington? Or shall we go straight on to Florida where we have reservations?"

So they drifted into talk about other matters. But when Vesta went to her rest that night in a dinky little rooming house in Washington, which was the only respectable place they could find, she lay for some time turning over the thin little pillow and exulting in the fact that Niles had really admired her beloved friend.

 

Lavira Fane was a clever woman. If she hadn't been, she would have had many more charges against her than she had, for so far she had pretty well got away with them. A few days in jail now and then, and some old pal with the hope of gain thereby, would turn up to swear an alibi for her or testify to some utterly false statement.

And it was a help that in addition to her cleverness she could on occasion be most humble, although some people described that humility as "meaching." But she could if necessary deceive even a matron of a suburban prison.

So for the first few days of her reconfinement in the Glencarroll prison she was quiet, subdued, almost humble in her manner, biding her time. Saying to the matron that she really was grateful that she had been caught, for she simply dreaded to be out alone with the authorities against her. She told the matron she never had been smart to get away with things, that she had been brought up to be a good Christian woman and she did not know how to deceive, and she readily perceived that if one once got suspected of anything it was hopeless. Especially in her present position, here, far away from her home and friends, how could she hope to get help? No one knew her anymore, and no one was ready to help. Not even that little snob of an Eden Thurston would lift her hand to help her, though she was at least distantly related.

So she was a most docile prisoner, and the matron, accustomed though she was to judging tough characters, began to feel sorry for her, a poor old woman, whose son was really the only sinner, of course, for now he had deserted her and left her to shift for herself.

She even considered the possibility of suggesting to the authorities that someone might get in touch with the parents of the child who had sent the pitiful appeal to her for a string of red beads. Perhaps someone, if he knew, might shed light on her case and produce some relatives to take over the poor soul, who she told the guards was so sad and dejected and quite willing to resign herself to perpetual servitude.

Lavira played this role so well that she was often allowed to come to the kitchen with the matron and help her with the cooking, glad to be of service in her despondent state. That was how it seemed. And so days passed by, and the matron was kind to the poor woman and gave her a privilege now and then, and some bit of extra fruit with her meals, and often called her to help her in the kitchen, which she did quite willingly, though most shyly, looking almost frightened whenever the outside door opened near her, and turning that quick furtive look almost as if to run away and hide. And strange to say, that matron really began to trust Lavira.

Still, she was a good, conscientious matron and knew the rules of her institution, knew what was expected of her, and took no chances. She had been a matron too long in such places not to know she might be mistaken.

But one evening just at dark, they were baking hot johnnycakes as a special treat. The grocery boy came in with his late Saturday night delivery order, just as the matron was taking out a hot pan of corn bread. Then the telephone rang.

The matron dropped the hot pan on the top of the stove and went to unfasten the door for the groceries. The telephone rang persistently. It was against the rule for her to send a prisoner to the telephone, and the grocery boy was waiting to have the order signed and his basket emptied. The matron looked wildly from the waiting boy to the telephone and then despairingly to her burning corn bread in the oven. But Lavira was there with all her senses alert and stepped toward the oven.

"Don't worry, I'll take the rest of the pans out," she said, stooping with a holder and lifting out the next pan, setting it on the top of the stove. So the matron signed the grocery boy's paper and turned to answer that insistent telephone, which she knew must be her director calling her. It was only a step or two to the phone in the corridor, and the communication was sharp and direct. "Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" she answered in a businesslike tone.

But when she turned back to her stove, the oven door was still wide open, a smell of scorched baking in the air; the grocery boy was gone, the back door was wide open, and Lavira was nowhere to be seen!

The corn bread had to go on burning--discouraged a trifle by the open oven door and the cold air rushing in from the outside--while the matron dashed wildly out the door into the darkness calling after the grocery boy to know if he had seen the woman disappear. But the sound of the delivery car rattling down the lane showed her how hopeless that was, and there seemed to be no sign of any dark figures in the alley. The matron rushed back to the telephone and gave the alarm to her chief, her soul filled with fury to think she had been caught with the same prisoner disappearing for the second time.

Lavira had been very quick. She knew how to slither into the shadows, and this time she had been preparing her mind for just such an opportunity as had come with that combination of circumstances, the burning food about to be served, the grocery boy, and the telephone. She had dropped the second pan like a flash and dashed out the open door and down the back steps, taking only time to snatch the old gray blanket from the seat of the delivery car as she slid across to take shelter around the corner of the garage with its door wide open. It took but a second to fling the old blanket about her and over her head as she hurried along, out of the alley and down another street and another, avoiding pedestrians as much as possible, and dashing on toward a country road she had often sighted when it had been possible for her to look out a window. It was strange what cleverness and planning could do for a woman when her freedom was at stake.