Three Little Women's Success Part 18

"You can't _prove_ nothin'," protested Sniffins.

"Prove anything! Man, are you altogether a fool? Intimidating your sister into masquerading under an a.s.sumed name, to say nothing of handing over a private memoranda of another person's business affairs, and, by the way, Miss Sniffins, I'll take charge of that last memorandum, if you please," said Mr. Porter, extending his hand toward Katherine.

"No, I'm hanged if you do," bl.u.s.tered Sniffins, springing toward her.

With a grip like iron Mr. Porter forced him back upon his chair.

Katherine handed him a slip of paper from her purse.

"Thank you. Now, Sniffins, I've just a few concluding words to say to you, but you will do well to heed them: In the first place, you have made an a.s.s of yourself pure and simple. In the second, you are pretty close to being something far worse. You have done some queer things lately, and tried some very questionable tricks down there on State Street, as you know even better than I do, although, as I hinted to you some time ago, I know enough, and a heap more than you suspect. I don't want to make trouble for you, or any other man just beginning his career, but I won't stand for rascality. Now here is your chance and you have no choice but to take it: You gave your sister no choice, remember, and now it's your turn to eat a little of your own loaf. Ask to be transferred to some other office-the further away the better."

"Ah-what sort of a game are you puttin' up?" snarled Sniffins.

"It is you, not I, who have put up the game, and since you've begun it you may as well make up your mind to play it out. You can easily get transferred, and that is just what you've got to do. This place has grown too warm for you in a good many ways. Your mother is fairly well-to-do, and your sister has this situation."

"But I can't keep it! I can't!" lamented Katherine.

"You must. Once your brother is away you have nothing to apprehend."

"But my name! What will Miss Carruth think?" deplored Katherine.

"Will you leave that to me?" asked Mr. Porter, real compa.s.sion in his voice and face for this unhappy little victim of an unscrupulous will.

"I want to stay, oh, I _do_ want to, for Miss Carruth is always so lovely to me."

"You's gwine fer ter stay, too," announced Mammy, autocratically, hastily going to Katherine's side to soothe and pat as she would have consoled a distressed child.

"Oh, Mammy, Mammy, she won't let me stay," sobbed the contrite little soul.

"How she gwine know anything 'bout dese hyer doin's?" demanded Mammy.

"I don't see how she can help it."

"Well, den, I does."

"Keep your situation, Miss Sniffins, and also keep quiet. I shall tell Miss Constance that you gave the a.s.sumed name because you feared she might feel some prejudice against engaging you if she learned you were Mr. Sniffins' sister; I am sure that is a pretty valid reason, for she has every reason to wish to avoid him; he has never figured pleasantly in her affairs. And now I think we have had enough of all this. But remember this, Sniffins: I mean exactly what I have said, and South Riveredge is no place for your future business operations. You have come pretty near making a serious mess of things for yourself and everyone connected with you, and a halt has been called. Move on, and take a word of advice from a business man of double your years-_move straight hereafter_. Now go."

Sniffins left the office by the side door, which Mammy unlocked and held open with this parting shot:

"Ain' I done told yo' long time ergo dat _some_ day n.i.g.g.e.rs gwine fer ter hol' open de do' fo' yo' stid of yo' fo' _dem_?"

Mammy had never forgotten or forgiven the experience of her first visit to Elijah Sniffins' office, and she was settling an old score. Then, turning to Katherine, she asked:

"Wha yo' gwine spen' de nex' few days, honey? I would'n aim fer ter go home ef I was yo'."

"I shall stay with a friend here in South Riveredge. I believe Lige would half kill me if I went home, he's so awful mad."

"Dat's right, yo' keep 'way f'om dat man."

"Yes, it is wiser, Miss Sniffins. Don't worry, all will come out right in the end; he has just lost his head-that's all. Now mind what I say, both of you: Not one word of all this anywhere else. I wouldn't have all this folly come to that little girl's ears for all I'm worth. It's almost incredible that anyone could act like such a fool. Paugh! it makes me ill. I feel as though some loathsome beast had drawn near that little girl of ours," and with a quick "good-day" Mr. Porter turned and strode from the office, out through the Arch and into the main corridor, where the janitor and Terry stood quietly talking together. They glanced up as he drew near.

"Oh, Donnely," he said to the janitor, "just take a look at that faucet in Arch Number One, will you? It's leaking a little; and Terry, if you'll come up to my office with me you can get those papers now as well as any time." A word, a smile to those in the other Arches, and not a thought was given by anyone to what might have been a very unpleasant episode in Constance Carruth's career.

CHAPTER XVII

CUPID IN SPECTACLES.

If Constance had any suspicion that a most unusual scene had taken place in Arch Number One, she gave no sign of it.

Within a few days after that occurrence Mr. Porter 'phoned down to her counter one morning, and asked her if she could come up to his office before she returned to her home, giving as a reason his wish to talk over some plans he had in mind for the Arch. She went up immediately, and as simply as possible he told her of Katherine Sniffins' unfortunate deception, her reason for taking the position under an a.s.sumed name, and her distress and remorse for having practiced such a deceit. He did his best to spare Katherine and to convince Constance that her only reason for such deceit had been her eagerness to secure the position, and her fear that she could not do so if Constance knew her to be Elijah Sniffins' sister.

At first Constance was strongly inclined to resent it all, and to sever relations with the victim of Elijah Sniffin's scheming, but gradually, as Mr. Porter talked, her sense of justice prevailed, and her resentment changed to pity, and with that the day was won.

Perhaps Mr. Porter's casually dropped remark regarding Mr. Elijah Sniffins' sudden departure from South Riveredge to take charge of one of the company's offices in the far West, and the added information that he would not return to his former home, was the final straw which turned the balance in Katherine's favor. Constance was a generous-hearted girl, to whom petty resentment was impossible. And so that chapter in the lives of the girls, so utterly unlike in character, was closed, and Constance never knew what an exceedingly unpleasant one it might have been for her but for Mammy's ceaseless vigilance and Mr. Porter's wisdom. For a few days, it is true, she was somewhat disturbed, and it needed all her self-control and dignity to help her through the half-hour's talk with Katherine, but once that ordeal was over she dismissed it all forever, and was the same sweet, gracious little employer whom Katherine had always known. If Katherine had admired her before, she openly adored her now, and confided to Mary Willing, whom she met not long after, that she "didn't know there _could_ be girls like Constance Carruth," and forthwith eulogized her until, had Constance heard it, she might have been forgiven if she had begun to feel around her own shoulder blades for sprouting wings.

Mary let her talk on, secretly rejoicing in every word spoken in praise of her idol, then with a most superior "why-anybody-could-have-told-you-that" air, she said:

"It's all very well, I dare say, for people to work like everything to reform girls who have actually _done_ wrong and are in disgrace, but from my standpoint, if a few more people would do the things Mrs.

Carruth and Miss Constance are doing as a matter of course every day of their lives, there wouldn't be so many girls in need of reforming, because they would be helped to have a little common sense and an idea of the fitness of things before they went too far. Everybody knows what a silly little fool I used to be whenever a man came near me, and I'd be one yet if it hadn't been for those blessed people; but I tell you they made me sit up and take notice, and they did it so beautifully, and with so much love and sweet fellowship thrown in, that I'd die to-morrow if it could save just one hair of their dear heads. You may think I'm just talking for effect, but I'm not. I mean every single word I say, and if you ever get to know them as f.a.n.n.y and I do, you will feel exactly the same way, you see if you don't."

"I do already, though I can't talk as you do," answered Katherine, simply.

"They have helped me that way, too," added Mary. "My goodness, how I used to talk and what awful words I used before I knew them! But they teach you without letting you ever guess they are teaching, and you learn because you can't help it. Good-bye. Come down and see me some time."

"Can I come to see you down there?"

"Why not? The little sitting-room up over the candy kitchen is just like our own. Miss Constance told me to invite any of my girl friends to visit me whenever I wished to, and we have lovely times up there evenings when the work is done. Sometimes Mrs. Carruth or Miss Constance come out to sit with us a little while. They always say they have come out to welcome their guests, because f.a.n.n.y's guests and mine are theirs, too. Isn't that a sweet way of putting it? We know, though, that they do it because they want our friends to feel at home, and there hasn't been a single evening when they haven't sent Mammy up with some cake, or lemonade, or something nice, and I can always take a pound of candy if I want to. Oh, there's no place in all the world like the 'Bee-hive,' I tell you!" And, with a happy smile, Mary went upon her way.

Not long after this something else came up that filled the Carruth household with subject for thought.

Before leaving college, Eleanor had been offered a position in a girls'

school. The school was one widely known, and prepared a great many pupils for Eleanor's alma mater. She had been highly recommended by its faculty, and had fully decided to accept the position. All that remained to complete the arrangements was her final acceptance above her own signature and that of the school's princ.i.p.al. This she was on the point of settling when she returned to Riveredge, then a trifle changed her decision. Homer Forbes came home with her, and on the way she told him of her plans.

He listened with great interest, although without comment, meanwhile gazing abstractedly out of the Pullman car window until Eleanor began to wonder if he heard one word she said, and, if the truth must be confessed, was not a little piqued at his seeming unconcern.

As usual, when thinking deeply, he munched away upon something. This time it happened to be a long spiral of paper he had absently torn from a magazine and twisted into a lamplighter, and Eleanor found herself subconsciously wondering how much of it would disappear before he recovered his wits and spoke.

About four inches of it had vanished, and, had Mammy been present, her theory of the goat would surely have been substantiated, when he gave his paper fodder a toss, and, turning toward her, said:

"Don't sign that contract until you get home and have thought it over a week. Then if you _do_ sign it, do so for six months-one term-only."

"But," interrupted Eleanor, "that seems to me a most improvident step, for right in the dead of the winter it would leave me without occupation or the prospect of any."

"No, it wouldn't, either. Do you think I would suggest such a step if I didn't have something up my sleeve for you a mighty sight better-er, ahem! I mean if I hadn't been on the lookout for something desirable-or, or, at least, something I feel you would consider."

"What is it?" was Eleanor's very natural and direct question.