Round the Corner in Gay Street Part 15

Spring and summer pa.s.sed slowly by, marking a growing interchange of amenities between the little house in Gay Street and the big one in Worthington Square. Things had happened during the winter, things kept on happening as the year advanced, to draw the two families together. In January Shirley had had a long and severe illness, during which Mrs.

Bell and Jane made their way into the inmost heart of every member of the household. There were nights during that illness when Joseph Bell, feeling that difference of social position counted for nothing when a father was in trouble, went over to shake Harrison Townsend's hand, bidding him be of courage--and found himself detained as a friend in need.

By and by, when the anxiety was over and the Bells ceased coming often in and out, the Townsends began to summon them. Mr. Townsend discovered the shrewd wisdom and genial philosophy of Joseph Bell to be of value, and often went to sit with him in the little front room, where his eyes noted with approval the rows of books. He discovered that Armstrongs's head man knew more that lay between the covers of those books than did Harrison Townsend himself.

As for Mrs. Townsend and Mrs. Bell, while they were too different in temperament and taste to get far into each other's lives, they found enough in common to bring them together rather oftener than could naturally have been expected. There was a quiet poise about Mrs. Bell which the other woman, accomplished woman of the world though she was, could only study in despair of ever being able to attain. But she found a rest and refreshment in her neighbour's society which none of her more fashionable friends could give her, and she sent often for Mrs. Bell to keep her company.

"Olive's taken one big step in advance," Peter said to his mother, one day in early summer. "She has begun to write regularly to Forrest."

"I'm very glad," said Mrs. Bell. "Does he answer her letters?"

"He does--only too glad to, I should say. She's shown me some of his letters. There 's a homesick grunt to them, that's sure. Life in the army, and particularly life in the Philippines, is n't unmitigated bliss, and he's finding it out. He does n't exactly squeal, but you can see how it is with him."

"It will do Olive good to take up such a sisterly duty. Was it your suggestion?" asked Mrs. Bell.

"How did you guess that? I did give her a talk one day, when she happened to say that Shirley was the only one of the family who wrote to Forrest with any regularity. She was pretty angry with me for a day or two, but she came round, and now she writes once a fortnight. There 's really more to that girl than you would think."

"She is improving very much, I am sure," agreed his mother, warmly.

"With a different early training, Olive would have been by now a much more lovable girl than she has seemed. But, happily, it 's not too late to give her new ideals, and I think you have helped in that direction."

"Ideals?" mused Peter. "I don't think I have any of those--at least, I don't call them by that name. Rules of the game--how will that do, instead? The foreman of Room 8 in a note-paper factory is n't supposed to have ideals, is he?"

"I don't know about that. Suppose you ask the men and women under you.

I fancy they would protest your ideals were pretty hard for them to live up to?"

Peter laughed to himself. "Maybe they would. But they would n't put it that way. 'The boss is a tough one to suit,' they 'd say."

"Call it what you will--rules of the game, if you like. But, as the children used to say, 'Peter Bell plays fair!'"

"I hope he does. If he does n't, it is n't the fault of his trainer."

And the gray eyes met the brown ones for an instant in a glance which said many things Peter could not have spoken.

The days went on; June gave place to July; August heat melted into September mildness; and October, with its falling leaves, marked the end of the days of outdoor life lived from April to November in the little garden.

"The twenty-fifth is Jane's birthday," observed Nancy to Shirley, several days before that event. "We 're wondering what to do in celebration."

"Why, it's mine, too!" cried Shirley. "How funny that we did n't know it! We ought to celebrate it together."

This remark was duly reported to Mrs. Bell, who said at once that they must invite Shirley over to have her birthday cake with Jane's. But before this plan could be carried into effect, an invitation arrived from the big house, asking every member of the Bell household to be present at a small dinner of Shirley's own planning.

"This is the first time we 've all been asked over there together--it's quite an occasion," declared Peter, on the evening of the twenty-fifth, as he stood waiting in the doorway for everybody to be ready. "I say,"

he exclaimed, "but we're gorgeous!"

And he fastened admiring eyes on his mother, who was dressed in a pale gray gown of her own making, and therefore of faultless effect. The quality was fine also, for Peter had looked after that.

"Gorgeous does n't seem exactly the word," Ross commented. "Demure but coquettish, I should call that gown."

The party proceeded in a body to the corner of Worthington Square, where Jane, under escort of Peter, came to a sudden halt. "Oh, I 've forgotten something to go with my present to Shirley," she said to him.

"Give me the key, please. I 'll run back and get it. Don't wait. I want to slip into the dining-room over there, anyway, before I see anybody, and I 'll come in by the side door."

So Jane ran back alone, and let herself into the dark house, the lamps having, for safety, been all extinguished before the family went out.

She hurriedly lighted the lamp in the front room, for she meant to fill out a card with a certain appropriate quotation, to put with Shirley's gift, and the book she needed was in this room.

The quotation was not as easily found as she had thought it would be, and hurriedly searching for it, Jane consumed considerable time, but did not want to give it up, for the words fitted Shirley delightfully, and would give point to the gift.

So bending over the book, still unsuccessful, she heard with regret the sound of a quick step upon the porch, followed by a ring at the bell.

She sprang up, book in hand, wishing she had taken her affairs, with her light, into the dining-room. Hoping that her appearance, in her evening frock, would warn the chance visitor that the time was inopportune, she opened the door.

"Jane!" exclaimed a joyful voice. "Ah, but this is good luck!" And Jane looked up into a face so brown and rugged and strong that for an instant she did not know it. But the eyes gazing eagerly into her own told her in the next breath who stood before her. She put out both hands, speechless with surprise. They were grasped and held, as Murray Townsend closed the door behind him with a st.u.r.dy shoulder.

"I--you--why, I thought you were n't coming for a month yet," she said, half shyly, for in spite of the smile and the warm handclasp, it seemed as if this must be a stranger who stood before her, radiating health and happiness, and looking so different from the pale young man who had gone away a year before.

"I was. .h.i.t by a sudden wave of homesickness that swept me off my feet,"

Murray explained, releasing the hands which were gently drawing themselves away, but continuing to stare down at the engaging young figure in its modest evening attire, as if he had seen nothing so attractive in all Montana, in spite of his fine tales of its glories.

"I began to think about it, and that was fatal. Once the notion of coming home a bit ahead of the date I 'd set took hold of me, I was no more use to anybody. They told me to pack up and start, for I was n't fit to brand a calf, and could n't earn my salt." He laughed. "Tell me you 're not sorry."

"Indeed, I'm not. This happens to be my birthday, and it's the nicest surprise I've had yet."

"Thank you--that's the welcome I wanted. But"--he glanced at her dress again, and his face fell--"you were going out?"

"Only to Worthington Square," laughed Jane. "It's Shirley's birthday, too, and we're all to be there at dinner. Why, you must know! You 've just come from there."

"That is a joke on me. I rang--no latch-key, you know--and a new maid I 've never seen let me in. I saw everything lighted up and flowers all about, and asked if they were entertaining. She said they were, and everybody was dressing. So I just turned and ran, thinking I 'd slip over here and see you first, since I could n't see much of my family till the affair was over. Well, well--so I may spend the evening in your company. Talk about luck!"

They stood there, exchanging questions and replies in the laughing, disconnected way in which people are wont to address each other in the first excitement of an unexpected and welcome meeting, neither of them knowing quite what they were saying, but each feeling that something of great importance had happened. Then Jane gathered up her wraps and Shirley's gift, and said, with a startled glance at the clock, "It is later than I thought! We must go this minute."

"Shall I put out the light?" and Murray strode across the floor. Jane noted with gladness that his walk was the walk of a strong man.

They crossed the street to the hedge gate, and came to the side entrance. As he put his thumb to the bell, Murray said, half under his breath, "I've imagined all sorts of home-comings, but never one quite so nice as this. To make my entrance with you----"

"Oh, you 're not going to make it with me!" said Jane, gaily. "I shall stay in the dining-room, arranging Shirley's plate, until you are safe in the midst of them."

And plead as he would, Murray found there was no way to make her change this decision. So, at last, hearing the voices of the others in the big hall, where they were gathered about the fireplace, in which roared a royal October fire, he went to the door and opened it a crack. From this position, he looked back at Jane, where she stood by Shirley's chair watching him across the gala decorations of roses which crowned the handsome table.

"I 'm at home again!" he called to her softly, and she nodded, smiling.

Then, hat in hand, he threw the door wide and marched through, shoulders back, head up, eyes intent upon the faces which, at the opening of the door, had turned that way.

CHAPTER X

HIDE AND SEEK

There was a moment's astonished hush as the group about the fire stared at the erect young figure. Then Murray's father was the first across the floor to meet him; and in an instant more the whole family was upon him, while the Bells rose, smiling, to do him honour.

"My dear boy!" There was a great gladness in Harrison Townsend's voice and he wrung his son's hand as if he would wring it off. Murray's mother, too--he had not known she was capable of so much tenderness, and he kissed her with a feeling that in his thoughts he had n't done her love for him justice.