Miss Alexia Kendall,
Nassau Park, N.Y., U.S.A.
My dear Miss Kendall:
Do you remember one day when you were a little girl out swinging on the gate in front of your house and a high school boy came by and asked your name? You said it was Lexie, and I’ve been remembering it all these years, for I was that schoolboy.
I never saw you anymore because my mother and I went away in a few days, and I’ve never been back there, for my grandmother, whom we were visiting, died that summer. But I’ve never forgotten the picture of you swinging on the gate in the sunshine with a smile on your happy, little face. You wore a blue dress the color of your eyes, and there was dew on the grass at the side of the road, and sunshine on your curls, mountains in the distance.
I’m a soldier now, fighting to keep our world clean and good for little girls such as you were, and I’ve been through fire. One night when I lay wounded on the dark hot sand where the fire had raged, that picture of the mountains, and the dew, and you swinging on the gate with your happy face came to me, and it was like a breath of comfort from my home long ago. And then it seemed to me you came and laid your little cool hand on my hot forehead, and your hand was like my mother’s touch. She’s been gone five years now. Your touch helped me a lot, and I thought I’d like to tell you, and thank you for it. Do you mind?
Of course I know you’re grown up now, and may have forgotten the laughing boy I was, whom you never saw but once. You may have moved away, or changed your name, and this may never reach you. You may have even left the earth. But if you are alive and get this, you’ll forgive me for writing just to thank you, won’t you? Because you really gave me comfort.
Gratefully yours,
Benedict Barron
Ben Barron fell asleep thinking over that letter with a great relief in his mind that he had accomplished it, for it represented to him a debt that he owed the little girl. And now, if there were still more fires for him to pass through, he was ready when they sent him out once more.
Chapter 7
Lexie looked at Bettinger Thomas with astonishment mixed with a deep anger. She was not a girl who was quickly angered, but she knew who this man was, what decent people thought of him, and felt herself insulted by his very tone. Should she go into the other room with him and put herself into his power for even another few minutes? Let Elaine see that she had had to give in? No, she couldn’t do that. She could see that just polite dignity wasn’t going to make this man understand that he couldn’t bully her around this way. She had got to get out of his way, or get hold of somebody who could help and protect her. But who could that possibly be? She wasn’t sure of any of the neighbors being at home. Most of them were doing defense work. Besides, Lucinda was due there at any time now, and she must be here to meet her, or all her morning’s work would be wasted.
Lucinda would be no help in this matter. True, she had a sharp tongue and well knew how to use it, but that wouldn’t get anywhere with Bett Thomas nor with Elaine either. It would simply turn Elaine hopelessly against Lucinda, and then where would she be? She didn’t know of another person she could get to stay with Elaine.
All this was going through her mind like a flash while she stood and faced her hateful antagonist, and suddenly her mind was made up. She wasn’t going into the living room with this man, and she wasn’t going to talk finances over with Elaine in his presence. She didn’t know just what she was going to do afterward, but she knew she was going to get out of the house for the moment.
The children were just outside the dining room door now, and arguing with all their might, making a great clatter. Lexie gave a quick glance at the table. Everything was on it they would need except some scrambled eggs she had intended making for them. They could come in and eat without the eggs.
She lifted her chin independently.
“Excuse me,” she said almost haughtily, although there was nothing really haughty in Lexie’s makeup except on an occasion when she felt desperate. “I couldn’t come immediately. There is something I must do first.”
Then she quickly opened the door on the clamoring children whose noise drowned any protest the lawyer was trying to make.
“Angelica, stop talking and bring the children in to their lunch. It is all here on the table. Now be a good girl and take care of Bluebell,” and as they trooped in Lexie stepped out and shut the door sharply behind her, flying frantically down the walk and out into the street.
She turned sharply into a side street, running as if she were intending to hurry back in a moment, and when she heard the front door open and a man’s voice calling her, she was out of sight. He couldn’t know just which way to look. But she did not pause to watch if he would follow her. Of course he had his car there and his chauffeur. They could follow her. What should she do?
She knew that Mrs. Turnbull in the next street just back went early to her job in a riveting plant. No one would be at home there and she could slide through that yard and make her escape to the main highway that led down to the drugstore. If she got there she might be able to hide, or—oh, if there was only someone to whom she could telephone for help! And yet who was there, and what could she say when she found them? The man in the drugstore was no help. He was an old man, a stranger to her, a newcomer since Lexie went to college. But she dashed into the store, and was thankful there were two or three patrons in there talking with the proprietor. She went into the telephone booth and sat down, shutting the door and opening the telephone book, wildly searching her memory for some name she could call where she might at least ask advice—some of her father’s or her mother’s old friends, who for their sake would be kind enough to advise her what to do. But suddenly her eye fell on a name. Foster. That was a familiar name. Judge Foster was her father’s old friend. Was he still alive, and would she dare call on him for advice?
Her hands were trembling as she turned the pages, and tears blurred into her eyes as she tried to think what to do. She simply could not go back and face that obnoxious man, and listen to his slanderous words about her dear mother!
Then there was the name Judge James Foster, and the old address where she had often gone as a little girl with her father to see his friend, and perhaps on business. Dared she call him? There were two addresses. His residence and his office. She would try the office first. Perhaps this wasn’t the right thing to do, but what else was there for her?
Her fingers were trembling as she dialed the number, and her voice was shy and frightened as she asked the severe lady secretary at the other end of the wire for Judge Foster.
“Who is it, please?” came the response.
“Oh,” said Lexie, “I—tell him it is the daughter of his old friend George Kendall. Tell him it is important, and I won’t take but a minute of his time.”
“Hold the wire, please,” the severe voice said.
A moment more and she heard the man’s kindly voice, an old, kind, dependable voice, and her frightened heart leaped thankfully.
“Oh, Judge Foster, is that you? Really you? This is Lexie. You wouldn’t remember the little girl who used to come with her father, George Kendall, to your house sometimes, but surely you would remember my father?”
“Why certainly, I remember my dear old friend George Kendall, and of course I remember you, little Lexie! I remember you well. You used to have such a happy, little smiling face and sunny curls. Yes, I remember you, and have often wondered where you were. What can I do for you, Lexie? I’d like to see you again. Where are you?”
“I’m out at our little house. That is, I’m at a public telephone now, not far from the cottage. But I’m in awful perplexity, and I thought perhaps you would let me ask you a question or two, and tell me what you think my father would want me to do.”
“Why, of course, little girl. What is the matter?”
“Well, you see, I’ve been working my way through college and am ready to graduate in June, but my half sister—you remember my father had another daughter—Elain
e?”
“Yes, I remember Elaine. She was older, was she not? And she did not have a very happy face, though she was quite pretty.”
“Yes,” gasped Lexie, and felt that her counselor understood the situation fully. “Well, I came back here to put the house in shape to rent, and while I was here got a telegram from Elaine. Her husband was in the army, and word had come he was missing in action. She said she was sick and she was coming home with her three children. And before I could do anything about it she arrived with a trained nurse, who left as soon as they got here. Elaine seems to have no money and says she is too sick to do anything, and I am due back at my college where I have a job and important examinations to take, finals, you know. But the worst of it is that Elaine claims that our father told her when she was a little girl that there was a large sum of money left by her own mother for her and that when she was of age she would get it. And now she is obsessed with the idea that the money must have been left in my mother’s trust and that Mother has spent it on me and herself.”
“Impossible! Outrageous! Absurd! Of course there was nothing of the sort!” shouted the judge.
Lexie caught her breath.
“And now,” she said, her voice trembling full of tears, “she says she is going to sue me for it. This morning she sent her oldest child to a neighbor and got her to telephone for an awful lawyer she has been corresponding with. He is a bad man, a man we knew in school when he was a boy. Bettinger Thomas. Perhaps you have heard of him.”
“I should say I have!” said the judge, indignation in his voice. “He is a villain if there ever was one.”
“Oh, I am so glad you understand!” gasped Lexie gratefully. “I was afraid you wouldn’t. Well, he is at the house now. He has been asking me all sorts of insulting questions about what Mother did with that money, and putting words into my mouth to which he wants me to assent. I told him I knew nothing about any such thing, never heard my father speak of any such money. I said I knew he was in financial trouble when he died, and that Mother worked very hard to pay the funeral expenses and then to put aside money for us both to go to college. When Elaine married instead of going to college, she gave her share to her as a wedding gift, and started in to do extra evening work to get money for my college. But she died from overwork. I told him that, and then I went out of the room. But the lawyer chased me into the kitchen and insisted I come back to answer more questions. I made an excuse and slipped out of the house to this telephone. I’m very much ashamed to bother you, but I knew that you understood my father’s ways and wishes, and that you would know if there was ever any money left to Elaine that we did not know about. I do so need someone to advise me what to do, how to answer that awful lawyer. He is very crude and tries to bully me into saying what he tells me to. Please, do you think I should answer him? And what should I say?”
“Say nothing, my dear! Just refuse to answer his questions. You say you have already told him you never heard of any such money, and so, if you cannot get away from him, then simply tell him: ‘I have nothing further to say.’”
“Oh, thank you! I am so relieved,” said Lexie with almost tears in her voice. “I had hoped to get away, but I can’t go till the woman comes whom I hope I’ve secured to stay with Elaine. Do you think I ought to go at all when she is sick? You see, I have a job out there when I have finished my course.”
“I certainly think you should finish your college course if possible,” said the judge, “but I’d have to know more about this to rightly advise you. When and where can I see you? Should I come out there? Or can you come to my office?”
“Perhaps I could get away to come there,” said Lexie. “I can’t be sure whether we could talk at home without Elaine hearing everything. Of course she ought to hear everything, but how she would act when she heard it is another thing. Can I call you this afternoon and let you know if I am free to come?”
“You certainly can. I’ll be here at four o’clock. And until then, if I were you I would keep away from that lawyer if you can. If that’s impossible just sit quietly, calmly, and do not answer his questions, beyond saying once or twice, ‘I’m sorry, that’s all I have to say,’ or, if necessary again, ‘I do not know.’ Don’t lose your temper, or try to make smart answers. He has a way of nagging people into that. Just be calm. Even a vacant smile is better than getting excited or frightened, or making unwise answers. Wait until we can talk together. Keep your answers for a trial, if it has to come to a trial. But personally I don’t think it will. Certainly I know all about your father’s affairs. He told me everything when he was first taken sick, and asked me to look out for you. I’m so glad you came to me. I had rather lost sight of you.”
“Oh, thank you, Judge. This is a great relief to me to know there is someone who will help if I get into trouble.”
“You won’t get into trouble, my dear. Not from that man. I’ll look out for him. But your sister. Remember, she will be likely to do some goading of you also.”
“Oh yes, she has already!” sighed Lexie.
“Well, don’t be goaded. Just take it smiling as far as you can, and keep sweet. There is no point in getting angry, though I grant you there will probably be plenty to make you angry.”
“Yes,” said Lexie, “there will! But I’ll just keep quiet and act dumb.”
“That’s the idea, child! And now, will you be all right till four o’clock? Well, call me up if anything unforeseen happens, and meantime don’t worry.”
Lexie went quietly back to the house and entered through the kitchen to the dining room where the children were squabbling over which should have the biggest cookie, and suddenly there came upon her a new strength to deal with the situation. She went over to Gerald and putting a firm hand about this wrist, folded her other hand over the cookie he had just taken from the wailing Bluebell.
“Oh no, we don’t do that!” she said in a low voice. “Gentlemen don’t snatch cookies from babies. And you are the only gentleman of the party, so you must act like one.”
Bluebell had ceased to howl and was listening, and suddenly broke into a joyful smile.
“Oh, is this a party?” she inquired happily.
“Why yes, I suppose you might call it a little party,” said Lexie. “Suppose you try to act as if you were at a party, and that will make it a party, you know.”
“She don’t act nice at parties,” said Gerald, pointing his crummy finger at Bluebell.
“Oh, but gentlemen don’t try to bring out other people’s faults,” said Lexie. “Suppose you pass the plate to Bluebell and say ‘Bluebell, will you have another cookie?’”
Gerald was intrigued by this suggestion and took the plate with zest, imitating Lexie’s little speech with an effective tone until Angelica giggled.
“Oh, but you mustn’t laugh when a gentleman is being polite,” said Lexie. “Gerry did that very nicely. Now, Gerry pass the plate to Angel.”
Gerald entered into the game eagerly, and Angelica went one better and reached gracefully for her cookie, with a slight bow, and said: “Thank you very kindly, brother!”
They were just in the midst of this little game when the door opened and there stood the lawyer, pompously glaring at Lexie.
“So!” he said irately. “You keep your sister waiting while you play a game with the children. Is that your important duty that hindered you from responding to your sister’s urgent call for you?”
Lexie looked up coldly.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” she said, in a tone of decided dismissal.
“I’ll say you will!” said the man, striding over to where she stood and laying hold of her arm to draw her along.
But just as he did so Bluebell reached out her short, fat arm to snatch Gerald’s cookie and unheeding, knocked against and swept her brimming glass of milk across the edge of the table and straight on to the immaculate suit of the lawyer, deluging the front of his coat and pouring milk down his perfectly creased trousers.
The fat lawyer’s
hand dropped suddenly from Lexie’s rigid arm, and with an angry cry he stood back and looked down at himself in dismay and fury.
Then he lifted his eyes to the staring baby, who was giggling delightedly at the catastrophe she had wrought, and a look like a thundercloud passed over his fat, flabby face.
“You little brat!” he said furiously. “You little devil you!” and he lifted his heavy hand and administered a sound slap on the round pink cheek of the baby. The sound reached into the next room to the excitable mother, who was languishing on the couch, waiting for her annoying sister to appear. But when she heard the resounding slap she sprang furiously to her feet and dashed quite agilely over to the door, which she opened with a snap.
“What are you doing, Lexie? Slapping my baby? You outrageous girl! To think you would vent your fury on a baby! A poor little innocent. What can she have done to deserve a cruel slap like that?”
Her indignant tones were drowned by Bluebell’s first heartrending shriek of horror at the chastisement she had suffered at the hand of a stranger. It was the “stranger” part that was to her the most terrible, added to the fact that she hadn’t at all intended to douse the gentleman’s elegant suit. There were plenty of times when she had intended to do terrible things, when she should have been chastised, but this was not one of them. In fact, it hadn’t entirely dawned upon her that she was in the least to blame for this catastrophe. She had only been trying to snatch Gerald’s cookie, and the deluge had been a mere incidental consequence. So why the slap? Besides, it hurt! And as this fact became more and more evident to her stinging facial nerves, Bluebell howled the louder. In fact, one might call the noise she made a roar, drowning everything else completely out.
Lexie opened her mouth to deny any part in that slap, but saw there was no use. It would not even get across while the child was crying. It was maddening. Elaine stood acting the plaintive mother part, flashing her eyes at her sister, casting apologetic glances at the lawyer who was wholly engrossed in mopping up his new suit with a pair of expensive, imported handkerchiefs, and ignoring everything else. Nobody was doing a thing to comfort the distressed baby.