Partners (16 page)

"Oh that's nice!" said Dale. Another lilt, quite distinct this time, and the nurse smiled vaguely to herself. It reminded her of forgotten dreams far back in her own life.

"Well, you think I'm safe in staying a little longer? And you'll promise to let me know if there is the slightest change?"

There were careful directions how to reach him, and then the conversation was over, but somehow the face of the earth had changed for Dale. All was right again. She scolded herself for feeling that way and then decided there was no use. She was overtired and feeling the responsibility upon her. It was just nice to know he was keeping watch over them even from afar. And after all, Chicago wasn't so far away when one could talk with a friend so easily.

The next morning Dale went down to the little shop on the first floor of the apartment house and purchased some blue and white yarn and some needles, and began to knit little sweaters and socks. It somehow eased the tension and kept her from thinking. There seemed to be so many disturbing things to think about. There was the fact that she was getting too much interested in Rand. She was distinctly disappointed in herself. She hadn't thought she was like that. She had always scoffed at girls who got interested in young men just because they had performed some noble deed, or acted in a sane and pleasant manner. What was she, to get so excited because he had called her on the telephone? She was merely a helper of his, getting that baby well. The fact that she had a little money of her own now and could take care of that baby herself if there was need to, did not enter into the thing at all she was just helping him out, he had called her his partner. They were in the business of saving that baby's life together. The whole thing was a business arrangement, like any partnership, and of course it was nice that she liked her partner. There was nothing wrong about that. But she had been getting too tired and too worried about various things, and she must stop feeling that every little thing was a private burden of her own .She must stop thinking about what a fine man Rand was and how pleasant it was to have someone to talk to in a friendly way.

Then she deliberately turned her thought toward poor Sam, whom she had sent firmly away, with no hope whatever of any future with her. Sam was young yet, and he would get over it of course, but what she couldn't understand was herself, and why she had ever thought of him as a rejected lover that she could on occasion take up at any time. Why, she wouldn't want to spend her life with Sam no matter how lonely she was. It was one thing to be nice, pleasant friends, and quite another to be wholly given over to one who was not utterly beloved. The next day dragged its slow length along. The baby was no worse, and when Rand called up and said he couldn't come back yet for two days at least, unless she felt it was imperative, she tried to speak cheerfully. The baby was still doing well, at least the doctor seemed to think he was, though Dale had felt he seemed extremely weak yet. Such a little frail thing to be so weak! She worried about it now and then in her secret heart, and then tried to pray and lay the burden in the hands of the Lord.

 

 

But an unexpected happening broke the monotony of the third day of Rand's absence. The porter brought up a card for Miss Hathaway, and when Dale looked at it and read Arliss Webster's name she glanced up with a frown of annoyance. Now what had he turned up for, she wondered. If there was one person she did not want to see, it was Arliss Webster. Yet she must see him of course, or give some reasonable excuse for not coming down.

She looked at the nurse who has preparing to get the baby ready for the doctor who was due soon now.

"I have a caller. Can you spare me for a few minutes?" she asked. "I'll get rid of him as soon as possible."

"Do you want to bring him up here?" she asked.

"Oh, no, I'll go down to the reception room."

"Go on, I shan't need any help," said the nurse.

So Dale went into her room and changed swiftly into a simple brown dress, smoothed her hair and went down.

Arliss Webster stood near the desk, looking about for her, and as she stepped from the elevator he came graciously forward to meet her as though he were conferring a great favor upon her. She tried to think in that minute what it was about him that always seemed so condescending.

He was a well-set-up man a trifle over forty, his cold, fine eyes framed in imposing glasses that emphasized his importance, his heavy dark hair touched slightly with silver at the temples. He was noticeable anywhere he went.

"Just as lovely as ever!" he said with a slightly affected manner. "I was afraid you might have aged under your new role of hard worker, but you are as fresh as a rose. But excuse me, it isn't a new role, is it? You certainly worked hard when you were caring for your mother. I used to wish that I had the right to take you from that trying employment, and send you a good nurse who could have lifted all your burdens. If you had belonged to me that's what I would have done for you."

Dale felt her ire rising as he went on. As always, he was making her feel like a small naughty child who was to blame and whom he wanted to set right and take possession of. She lifted her delicate chin haughtily.

"Will you come to the reception room over here and sit down?" she said coolly. "I have but a few minutes to spare before going back to my job, and I'm sure we can talk more comfortably there and be without interruption."

Without waiting for his reply she led the way across the wide lobby to a small cozy room that was at that time empty, and offered him a comfortable chair.

"Well, this is unexpectedly pleasant," he said, laying his hat on the table and looking around as he took the chair she offered. "Is this where you are residing at present?"

"This is where my job is at present," said Dale crisply.

The man stiffened.

"Oh, are you employed here?"

She nodded pleasantly as she sat down.

"In what capacity, may I ask?"

"Oh, I'm just helping to care for a sick person," she said lightly.

"Disgusting!" said the man with an expression of contempt on his aristocratic features. "To think that a member of a good old family should have been reduced to that!"

"Oh, I like it," said Dale. "But never mind me. Tell me the news of home. I don't often hear much about it anymore!"

"Well, it's quite your own fault, you know, my dear. I gave you to understand before you went away that when you were tired of wandering and ready to come home and enjoy life you had only to send me word and I would be glad to rescue you from circumstances at once."

"Oh, but I'm not anxious to be rescued," laughed Dale with a light little imitation of a laugh that just fitted her caller's intellect. "I'm really having the time of my life just now. But tell me, is your sweet old aunt still living, and is she as sweet as ever?"

"My aunt? Oh, you mean Aunt Tabby McGarth? No, she passed away three months ago, more or less, and of course she's a great deal happier now. She had always had a hard life. But, you know, she wasn't really my aunt. That name was just given her out of courtesy by Mother because she felt sorry for the poor old creature. And, of course, after Mother passed away no one else had any further interest in her."

"Oh, but she was such a cheery person! I always used to hope that when I got as old as that I would be able to bear life as sweetly as she did!"

"Well, of course she bore her lot with patience. I've no fault to find with her, except that she was always in evidence. However, that's not news. You'll want to hear of the young people. You remember Mrs. McAllister? Well, she has started a club for the young people, and really it's awfully popular. All your old friends. The Carloses, the Champneys, the Granbys, and the Dartleys are in it of course. They were your natural companions and friends if you hadn't been so hopelessly tied to your poor mother's couch. It is such a pity that she couldn't have seen what a mistake she was making in letting you sacrifice your young life in that way, when so easily a nurse might have taken your place. A great pity that you were cut off from your young friends, for that was your rightful heritage."

"Oh, no!" said Dale sharply. "That was not my rightful heritage! My rightful heritage is in heaven, and I had nothing whatever in common with the girls of those families you have just mentioned. You see, Mr. Webster, I didn't care for the things they liked, and they didn't enjoy what I liked. How could you possibly think we should have been together?"

"Ah, but you would have learned to like what they liked if you had been allowed to be much with them, and you could have been fitted to shine in any walk in life you had chosen."

Dale smiled.

"Yes?" she said pleasantly. "Well, I don't really care about that. Tell me about our church. Did the minister get well, and is he still there?"

"No, he didn't get well; he became a hopeless invalid, so of course he was of no further use to the church, and they had to pension him off and send him away. We have quite a modern young preacher now, very popular, and quite up to date in all his ways. But you need to hear him once to find that out. His sermons are charming, just poetry in prose. His diction is so fine. And then he preaches on modern themes, has a five-minute résumé of the happenings of the week before he begins, and then draws similes from that in place of taking a regular text out of scripture. It is really quite intriguing. People who never came before are coming every Sunday, just to find out what new thing he will do next. He has put new life into the trite old service, this bringing things down to where we really live, and not trying to take us up into the clouds with dreams and fantasies from the outworn scriptures, which have been preached about so many centuries that they are quite threadbare. It is very refreshing. But, my dear, I didn't come all this way to hear you discuss the new preacher, or Aunt Tabby. I came down to say that I am still of the same mind as when you went away. I want to marry you and make you mistress of my home. I have just bought a most magnificent estate, and I know of no girl anywhere who is so well fitted, after you have had a little training, which I shall delight to give you, to be the mistress of my home. And so, my dear, I have come down to offer you my hand and heart, and to beg that you will come with me at once, today if possible, and let us begin to prepare for a delightful wedding, befitting our station in life. My idea is that you shall take a small apartment in a fashionable suburb where you will not have too much contact with some of your former acquaintances, who will not be desirable in your new life, and where you can quietly get ready to shine socially. You will need some instruction, you know, and I can secure the right people to give that to you, and meanwhile you can be choosing a proper trousseau, under the guidance of one of the best couturiers our city affords. And I shall be glad to sit in on all your selections and offer my advice and approval."

He reached the point of a period and looked up, well pleased with the picture in words that he had worked out for her approval. Dale sat there aghast. Did he really think she cared for that sort of thing?

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Webster," she said very kindly, "but I really wouldn't care for that sort of thing, you know. And I couldn't possibly marry you. I thought I told you once before that I do not approve of marrying a man I do not and could not love. I do not love you."

"Oh!
Love!
" he said with a smile of almost contempt. "We don't count that an essential to marriage in these days, do we? I am sure I am very fond of you or I should not have taken this long journey to tell you that I have decided you are the one I shall marry."

"But I do consider love essential to marriage, Mr. Webster. A marriage without love would be terrible!"

"Oh, well, a certain fondness, yes, I'll grant you that. But that is gained by time and living together. You get used to each other. It becomes a habit that one is loath to break. But what is commonly called love is made up largely of imagination, don't you think? And it is a great deal better to have a sane approach to one's nuptials, a commonsense basis for union, that is not the outcome of a few wild moments of infatuation! Such a marriage is not liable to be wrecked on the rocks of divorce. Such a marriage goes calmly on to the end, riding above all storms and unpleasantness----"

"Stop!" said Dale, leaning forward in her chair and looking at him with flashing eyes. "I can't listen to another word like that! It is sacrilege against a holy institution that God ordained to be a symbol of Christ's own love for His Church. It is blasphemy! Mr. Webster, I had a wonderful mother and father who loved each other with a tender, sacred love that lasted through the years, even when there was suffering and trial and hard going. Their lives were made beautiful because of that tender love between them."

"Yes, but your father was never much of a worldly success. Can't you see how much better it would have been for your mother if she had married a man who was well fixed in life, who could have given her comfort and luxury, instead of mere sentiment?"

"No!" said Dale, rising from her chair and putting one foot down firmly. "No! My mother would never have chosen that. I would never want a life like that. And I won't have my mother and father's love for each other called 'sentiment.' Mr. Webster, I think we had better stop talking for I am getting very angry. Besides," and she glanced at her watch, "my time is up, and I must go back to my work."

She rose, her head held a bit haughtily.

"Now look here, Dale, that's perfect nonsense that you have to go this instant. I have come a long distance to see you, and I don't intend to go back until I have said what I came to say."

"Oh!" said Dale wide-eyed. "Haven't you said it all?"

The man flushed angrily.

"You certainly haven't improved in manners!" he snapped. He was not accustomed to being dismissed.

"Manners?" said Dale, lifting her eyebrows. "I certainly did not intend to be rude, but you are insisting on talking about marriage, and I'm not willing to hear another word about it. I have no idea of getting married at present, and when I do it certainly will not be to you! I hate to be rude about the way I say it, but it seems necessary in order to make you understand!"