Partners (11 page)

"Leave me alone, young man!" said the invincible Mrs. Beck, glaring at George and pulling away from his firm grip. "If you don't take your hand off me this instant, I'll have you arrested for assault! And as for your sob story, there must have been some reason why that brat was left in
this
house instead of some other! If you expect me to believe your story, let's see you do something about it. If that ain't your baby take it down ta the p'lice station this minute! I don't harbor any foundling brats in my respectable home, not even overnight!
Go!
" And she pointed dramatically toward the blanketed baby sleeping sweetly on Dale's pillow.

"On a night like this, at an hour like this?" blazed Rand contemptuously. "You old hypocrite!"

"Yes, on a night like this!" mimicked the hard old voice. "Go!"

"
Not on your life!
" said Rand firmly. "We'll get out in the morning and no sooner! I can't answer for Miss Hathaway, but I rather think she won't care to stay here any longer after the insulting things you've said to her!"

"Certainly not!" said Dale quietly, giving George a grateful look. She suddenly felt a thrill of thankfulness as she realized the sympathy and understanding that seemed to have sprung up between herself and this young man with the tender eyes and the trustworthy mouth.

"Oh no, of course no!" mocked the angry woman looking contemptuously at Dale. "I don't suppose you'd care to stay after
he
left!"

Dale's face flamed, but she spoke calmly: "No, I shouldn't, Mrs. Beck. I've never addressed more than half a dozen sentences to Mr. Rand before tonight, nor he to me. We've barely nodded as we passed each other on the stairs occasionally, but he seems to be the only honorable person in the house, and I certainly would not want to remain here after he was gone. If you'll wait just a minute, Mrs. Beck, I'll give you that fifty cents you paid for my laundry this morning while I was away."

Mrs. Beck received the money grimly, looked down at the fifty-cent piece doubtfully, then glanced toward the bed where the sleeping baby lay.

"Two in a room is extra!" she announced vindictively. "A dollar a night for transients!"

Indignantly Dale took out a dollar from her worn little purse, and was about to give it to Mrs. Beck, but a hand intervened.

"That'll be on the baby, Mrs. Beck!" said George Rand with flashing eyes. "Try and collect!"

The old woman gave him a vengeful look and met one from the young man that made her quail. Presently without another word she turned and stamped down the stairs, and the two people were left alone with the baby.

"I'm sorry!" said Rand penitently when they heard the click of the lock in the downstairs door. "I had no idea what I was getting you into. I didn't know that there were people in the world so inhuman!"

Dale held her head high, and there was almost a smile on her lips.

"I'm
glad
!" she said with a glint of pride in her eye. "You were wonderful!"

Rand looked at her in wonder. What a girl she was! Somehow he had a desire to put his arms about her and comfort her, but he only said gently: "You ought to go to bed! You're getting all blue under the eyes like the baby!"

Dale laughed softly. She wanted to cry, but she put on a brave front and laughed.

"Oh, I'm all right," she said, taking a deep breath. "Only I do wish there was some way to keep that baby! He's such a darling, and I'm afraid somebody else won't care and will let him die. I hate to think of his going to an institution. Institutions are all right, I suppose, only he seems something special. He's very sweet, even sick and thin the way he is. I haven't anybody in the world, and it's likely he hasn't, either. I'd like to have him if I had a way to keep him. It seems a pity there isn't a way."

"Well, I'm in the same boat myself. I haven't anybody in the world anymore. I'm all alone!"

Rand signed wistfully.

"He certainly is a cute little beggar," he went on. "I wish--" He hesitated and then abruptly stepped to the door.

"Well, good night. You get some sleep. Call me if you need me. There may be a solution in the morning, who knows?"

He stamped noisily up the stairs to the third-story front and slammed his door, locking it with a decided rattle of the key.

Dale smiled to herself as she closed her own with a bit of a slam, and an equal clattering of her key. She felt morally certain a listening ear was down the hall.

It was getting on toward morning before the dawn had really come, that she heard a soft tapping of fingertips on her door, though she had heard no step.

She slipped softly from the bed, drew her robe about her closer, and opened the door.

There stood Rand under the weak bulb that illumined that end of the hall. He looked anxiously at her, his rumpled hair giving him an endearing boyish look.

"Are you all right?" he whispered. "I thought I heard the little chap cry. I'll bet you haven't slept a wink all night!"

Dale smiled.

"Well, I didn't sleep much, but I'm all right. I'm fine. I had the baby on my mind, you see. But I loved it. He was as good as gold."

"Well, he better be!" growled Rand tenderly. "All you've done for him! Can't I take him now and let you get some sleep?"

Dale giggled softly.

"He's sound asleep and mustn't be disturbed," she whispered. "But you don't look as if you'd slept a wink yourself," she challenged.

Rand grinned.

"I had you on my mind," he countered. "You were good as gold, but I had to worry about you."

Their eyes met and something flashed between them, something deep and sweet and tender.

Dale's eyes lit with a sudden gladness. She drooped their fringes to hide her soul that came up to look out, and her delicate face grew suddenly rosy with embarrassment.

He gave her a lonely smile with an admonition to go back to bed, and was gone, as silently as he had come.

It was in the rose and gray of a new day that the baby stirred from its deep sleep and began to whimper, turning its little fuzzy head from side to side and vainly striving to extract nourishment from the blanket that enveloped it.

Dale came awake startled. She had been crouched uncomfortably by the baby's side on the narrow bed, and now she heard the hoarseness in his small outcry. Was he going to have croup or something terrible? Of course, it was to be quite expected after the exposure he had been through. She put out an anxious hand and touched his forehead. It was hot and dry and his thin little cheeks were flushed. Oh, if he had a fever how would that affect his being moved today? For she couldn't think of staying in that house with a sick baby. Mrs. Beck would make it intolerable.

With anxiety in her heart she went about warming the bottle and got the baby as comfortable as she could, glad that he dropped off to sleep again while he was feeding. Then she tiptoed around the room gathering up her things. She must be packed and ready for whatever came.

There wasn't much to pack, of course. She hadn't a very large wardrobe, and many of her summer things were laid neatly in her trunk already, to be out of the way.

She had been burning the oil stove all night to keep the room tolerably warm for the baby, and now she began to realize that the oil would soon be spent and the stove would go out. She wouldn't dare go down and ask for more oil. If she did Mrs. Beck would not give it to her, she was sure, even if she offered to pay more than the regular price for it.

She cast an anxious glance at the flame to see if it was as bright as usual, and felt the pan of water on the top. The water was pretty hot so she took the precaution to fill the hot water bottle, which was now only lukewarm after the long night of service. Then she wrapped the bottle with thick covers to save its heat, and laid the bundle close to the baby.

Her own toilet had to be brief for the baby might wake at any minute. She laid her hat and coat and purse on a chair and set her door a little ajar so that Rand could signal to her without calling the attention of the first floor to the fact.

She had no fear that the other girls on the hall would disturb her for they had come in very late, and by the few words of their maudlin conversation she had overheard she judged it would be later in the morning before they came on the scene. She hoped she and the baby could get off before that.

She sat waiting, glancing out the window at the lovely scene. The storm was over and the sun had arisen. The world looked like a fairyland. The city's grime and dirt were covered with fleecy white, and the rose of the sky was reflected in its whiteness. The lovely poem about a city lying like a world newborn came and hovered on the edge of her memory again, but she was too anxious to try to think out the words. The baby was breathing hoarsely, and crying out now and then like a wee protest. She was sure he was going to be sick. And the fire was blinking low. She turned down the wick to preserve the oil as long as possible, and began to feel cold herself. What ought she to do? It wouldn't do to let the baby get cold. He had given one or two hoarse little coughs already. Should she go to the front hall and call up the stairs for Mr. Rand? Of course, that would bring more scorn down upon her head, but she couldn't stop for that if there was more danger for the baby.

She bowed her head and asked for quick guidance, and then she heard the front door open and close, and feet in the lower hall stamping off the snow. Then quiet footsteps stole up the stairs and she saw Rand coming toward her door. Ah! He must have got up early and gone out! Perhaps he had gone to the police. But would they care for a sick baby clothed mostly in blankets? Her heart sank.

She was standing by her door with her eyes wide when he came up to her, and the baby chose that second to cry out and give a wild little hoarse, croupy cough.

She saw that Rand was on the alert at once.

"Is he sick?" he asked in a low whisper.

"I'm afraid so," said Dale. "His head is hot, and he keeps giving those sharp, tight little coughs."

Rand looked troubled.

"Well, we're getting out of here! I've been to the police station, and I'm taking the baby at once. Can you fix him up so he won't get much cold air?"

Dale's heart sank.

"I'll do my best," she said sadly, "but I'm afraid for him. Are you going to hand him over to the police?"

"Supposedly." George Rand grinned briefly. "But don't you worry. Now,
I'm
taking the baby, understand,
not
you! You will stay here and finish packing up things, and be ready when your taxi comes in fifteen minutes. Is that too soon?"

"Oh, no," said Dale struggling for self-control. "I'm all ready now."

"That's good. Now! What's this? The hot-water bag? Well, all right. Yes, I'll hold it carefully. I won't let it get away from him. And I'll watch out for that veil thing you have over his face. No, I won't let him smother, and I won't let the cold air get to him. By the way, is this the old woman's blanket you have around him? I ought to pay her for it."

"No, thank goodness," said Dale. "It's an old one of my own."

"Okay. That's fine. Now is he ready?"

"Yes!
Oh!
" said Dale, and the tears welled to her eyes.

George Rand turned, holding the baby cautiously, and looked deep into her eyes.

"Can't you trust me?" he asked in a very low voice. "Here! Don't read this till you get in the taxi." And he slid a letter into her hand and hurried away down the stairs.

Dale stood at the head of the stairs and looked after him. The baby was gone, and she didn't know whether she would ever see it again! Perhaps the police would not understand and would let it die! Well, probably Mrs. Beck would think that was a good thing for everybody concerned, but somehow it broke her heart to think of it.

Then the feel of the letter in her hand recalled her to the present, and she backed into her room and concealed the letter in her handbag. Mrs. Beck was liable to appear at any minute, and she did not wish to be questioned about that letter.

There had been a furtive opening of the door of the downstairs front room into the hall as Rand went out noisily, and Dale had no doubt but that two women were curiously looking out their front window. Mrs. Beck would be sure to come up very soon now, and she felt she would like to forestall her. So she turned out the little blinking stove that was giving final gasps of light in a hectic way. She went carefully through the four drawers of the pine chest to make sure she had left nothing, and she turned the bedclothes back and left them nearly airing. Then she hurried downstairs, and none too soon for Mrs. Beck was just opening her door to come out and presumably go up.

"I brought you my key, Mrs. Beck," said Dale in a cold young voice. "I turned out the stove and left the bed to air. I guess that's about all. There goes the doorbell. I think that's my taxi. I'll just go up and show him the way."

"No, you won't, either. I'll go myself," said Mrs. Beck disagreeably. "I never let strangers go out of the house without inspecting my room before they leave!"

"Oh, of course, Mrs. Beck. That's quite all right!"

"Well, it had better be all right!" said Mrs. Beck irately, tramping up the stairs, leaving Dale to open the door and escort her taxi driver up after her trunk.

She had her bags piled together on the trunk in the middle of the floor, and the man gathered them up and said he would come back for the trunk. While he was gone Mrs. Beck nosed around and counted the sheets and pillowcase and towels, and looked scornfully at the small portion of scented soap that Dale had left in the soap dish, and finally said, with a withering glance about, "Where's the baby?"

"Mr. Rand took it away," said Dale quietly.

"Did he take it to the police?" The voice was very sharp. "Because if he didn't I'm going to call them up myself."

"I really don't know, Mrs. Beck," said Dale haughtily. "He told me he had been to police headquarters, and I suppose that is where he was taking the baby."

"Oh! You don't know! You
say
you don't know!"

The taxi man returned and gathered up the trunk, and Dale with a lifting of her head proudly walked down the stairs after him and made no reply.