CHAPTER VIII--MOLLY'S STORY
I've been asked to tell the part of this story in which I figure. I'vedone that kind of work before, so I'm not as shy as I was that firsttime, and since then I've studied some, and come up against fine people,and I'm older--twenty-seven on my last birthday. But as I said then, soI'll say now--don't expect any stylish writing from me. At theswitchboard there's still ginger in me, but with the pen I'm one of the"also rans."
Fortunately for me, I was always a good one to throw a bluff and, havingmade a few excursions into the halls of the rich and great, I felt Icould be safely featured as a nursery governess. She belongs in thelayer between the top and bottom and doesn't mix with either. I wouldn'thave to play down to the kitchen standards or up to the parlor ones,just move along, sort of lonesome, in the neutral ground between. As forteaching the child, I knew I could do that as well as the girls who aremarking time until they marry, or the decayed ladies who employ theirdeclining years and intellects that way.
It didn't seem to me hard to size up the family. Mrs. Janney was thehead of it, the middle and both ends--a real queen who didn't need acrown or a throne to make people bow the knee. Mr. Janney was a good,kind old gentleman who was too law-abiding to get rich any way but theway he did. Mrs. Price wasn't up to their measure--an only child, bornwith a silver lining. She was one of those slimpsy, thin women that aman would be afraid to hug for fear she'd crack in his arms or snap inthe middle. She was very cordial and pleasant to me and I will say shewas fond of her little girl.
When I came to the servants I couldn't see but what every one of themregistered honesty. If it had been printed on their foreheads with arubber stamp it couldn't have been plainer. There were only two new onesin the outfit--girls, one of them my chambermaid--and no one, not even asleuth desperate for glory, could have considered them. Outside therewere gardeners and chauffeurs--in all there were twenty-one peopleemployed--but it was the same with them. They were a decent, well-paidlot, the garage men and head gardener living on the place, the laborerslodged in the village.
The one person my eye lingered on was Miss Maitland the Secretary. Notthat there was anything suspicious about her, but that she wasn't assimple and easy to see into as the others. She was a handsome girl, talland well made, sticking close to her job and not having much to do withany one. Her study was just under the day nursery where we had lessonsand had its own door on to the piazza. When she wasn't at work, she'deither sit there reading or go off walking by herself and there wassomething solitary and serious about her that interested me. The nurserywindow was a good look-out, commanding the lawns and garden and with thetennis court to one side. After lessons I'd let the blinds down and coilup there on a cushion, and I saw her several times coming in and goingout, always alone, and always looking thoughtful and depressed.
To get any information about her I had to be very careful for Mrs.Janney thought the world of her, but I managed to worm out some facts,though nothing of any importance. She had come to Mrs. Janney from afriend who had had her as secretary for two years. She was entirelydependent on her work for her living, was an orphan, and had nofollowers. The only thing the least degree out of line was that severaltimes during the spring and the early summer she had asked for more daysand afternoons off than formerly. Mrs. Janney didn't seem to thinkanything of this and I didn't either. The girl--settled down in herplace and knowing it secure--was slackening up on her first speed.
There were a lot of people coming and going in the house--oftenest, Mr.Richard Ferguson. I'd heard of him--everybody has--millions, unmarried,and so forth and so on. I hadn't been there thirty-six hours before Isaw that Mrs. Price had an eye for him. That's putting it in aconsiderate, refined way. If I was the cat some women are, I'd say shewas camped on his trail, with her lassoo ready in her hand. Of courseshe'd work it the way ladies do, very genteel, pretend to be lazy if hewanted to play tennis and when he was off for a swim wonder if she hadthe energy to walk to the beach. But she always got there; every time,rain or shine, she'd be awake at the switch. I didn't know whether heresponded--you couldn't tell. He was the kind who was jolly and affableto everybody; even if he was a plutocrat you had to like him.
I had a good deal of time to myself--lessons only lasted two hours--andI roamed round the neighborhood studying it. The second afternoon I wentinto the woods, where there's a short-cut that goes past Council Oaks tothe beach. Off the path, branching to the right, I found two smallertrails both leading to the same place--a pond, surrounded by trees, andwith a wharf, a rustic bench, and two bathing houses, where the trailsended. In my room that evening I asked Ellen, my chambermaid, about thepond and she told me it was called Little Fresh and that the bathinghouses and wharf had been built by the former owner of Grasslands. Butthe first year of Mrs. Janney's occupation a boy from the village hadbeen drowned there, since when Mrs. Janney had forbidden any one to gonear or bathe in Little Fresh. She had put up trespassing signs andlocked the bath houses, and no one ever went there now, because, anywayif you didn't go in and get drowned, folks said you might catch malaria.
A few days after that Bebita asked me to go into the woods with her andlook for lady-slippers; the kitchen maid had found two and Bebita had tosee if there weren't any left for her. Everybody said it was too latefor them, but that didn't faze Bebita who had the kitchen maid's wordfor it and was set upon going.
The woods were lovely, all green and shimmery with sunlight. We took thetrail I've spoken of, I strolling along the path, and Bebita huntingabout in the underbrush for the flowers. I was some little distanceahead of her when I saw a figure moving behind the screen of treestoward the right. I could only catch it in broken bits through theleaves, hear the footsteps soft on the moss, and I didn't know whetherit was a man or a woman. Then it came into view, out of the trail thatled to Little Fresh Pond, and I saw it was a man, who stopped short atthe sight of me.
He was good-looking, the dark kind, naturally brown, and sunburned ontop of it until he was as swarthy as an Indian, the little mustache onhis upper lip as black as if it was painted on with ink. Now I'm not onethat thinks men ought to be stunned by my beauty, but also I don'texpect to be stared at as if the sight of me was an unpleasant shock.And that's the way that piratical guy acted, standing rooted, glaringangry from under his eyebrows.
I was going to pass on haughty, when Bebita's voice came from behind ina joyful cry of "Popsy." She rushed by me, her arms spread out, andfairly jumped at him. The ugly look went from his face as if you'd wipedit off with a sponge, and the one that took its place made him anotherman. He caught her up and held her against him, and she locked her feetbehind his waist and her hands behind his neck swinging off from him andlaughing out:
"Oh, Popsy, I was looking for lady-slippers and I found _you_."
"Well," he said, gazing at her like he couldn't look enough, "would yourather have found a lady-slipper?"
She hugged up against him, awful sweet and cunning.
"Oh, Popsy, that's a joke. I like you better than all the lady-slippersin the world. Where have you been?"
"Over on the bluff, calling on some people. I'm taking a short cutthrough the woods."
"Where are you going now?"
"To Cedar Brook. My car's out there on the road at the end of the path."
I knew Bebita had been told not to speak of her father. I'd heard itfrom Annie and Mrs. Janney had cautioned me, if she asked any questions,to say that he had gone away and was not coming back. Children arequeer, take in more than you think, and I believe the little thing feltsomething of the tragedy of it. Anyway she said nothing more on thatsubject, but loosing one hand, waved it at me.
"That's my new governess, Miss Rogers. I'm studying lessons with her."
He looked at me, and having no free hand, just nodded. Though hisexpression wasn't as unfriendly as it had been, it didn't suggest anydesire to know me better. He turned back to Bebita.
"Dearie, you'll have to let go for I must jog along. I've a date to playtennis
at Cedar Brook and I'm late now."
He kissed her and she loosened her hold sliding through his arms to theground. Then with a few last words of good-by he swung off down thepath. Bebita looked after him till the trees hid him, gave a sigh, andwithout a word pushed her little hand into mine and walked along besideme. She seemed sobered for a while, then picked up heart, began to lookabout her, and was soon back at her hunt for the flowers.
I was nearing the second path to Little Fresh, when again I saw a figurecoming behind the trees. This time it showed in a moving pattern oflilac and the sight made me brisk up for I'd seen Miss Maitland thatmorning in a lilac linen dress. I quickened my step until I came to aturning from which I could look up the branch trail, and sure enough,there she was, walking very lightly and spying out ahead. At the sightof me she too stopped and looked annoyed. But women are a good dealquicker than men--in a minute the look was gone and she was all smilesof welcome.
"Oh, Miss Rogers, and Bebita too! How nice to meet you. Are you going tothe beach?"
Bebita explained our quest and said she was going to give it up--therewasn't a single lady-slipper left.
Miss Maitland's smile was kind and consoling:
"I could have told you that. They're gone for this year."
"Have _you_ been looking for them?" Bebita asked.
No, Miss Maitland had been to the beach for a bath, and as the closedseason for lady-slippers had begun, we turned back, Bebita and theSecretary in front, I meekly following. In answer to the child'squestions Miss Maitland said she had taken a long swim, out beyond theraft.
Suddenly Bebita popped out with:
"Did you see my Daddy?"
There was a slight pause before she answered; when she did her voice wasfull of surprise:
"Mr. Price! Was he on the beach?"
"No, in the woods. We met him. He was taking a short cut."
Miss Maitland said she hadn't seen him, that he must have been somedistance in front of her, and changed the subject.
While they were talking I was thinking and absently looking at her back.They'd both come out of the branch trails that led to Little Fresh; theyhad taken different paths and not come at the same time; they had eachgot a jar when they saw me. As I thought, my eyes went wandering overher back and finally stopped at the nape of her neck. The hair was drawnup from it and hidden under her hat. I could see the roots and thelittle curly locks that drooped down against the white skin. Andsuddenly I noticed something--they were perfectly dry, not a damp spot,not a wet hair. The best bathing cap in the world couldn't keep thewater out like that. She had not been bathing at all, she had been withChapman Price at Little Fresh Pond. And they wanted no one to know; weresufficiently anxious to lie about it.
The next day in a conference with Mrs. Janney, I asked her if Mr. Pricehad ever shown any interest in Miss Maitland. She was amazed, as shockedas if I'd asked if Mr. Janney had ever been in love with the cook.Chapman Price had taken no more notice of Miss Maitland than commonpoliteness demanded, in fact, she thought that of late he had rathershunned her. She was curious to know why I asked such a question, andwhen I said I had to ask any and every sort of question or she'd bepaying a detective's salary to a nursery governess, she saw the sense ofit and quieted down.
That was more than I did. The way things were opening up, I was gettingthat small, inner thrill, that feeling like your nerves are tinglingthat comes to me when the darkness begins to break. I didn't see much,just the first, faint glimmer, but it was the right kind.
Two days later a thing happened that changed the glimmer to a widebright ray. It was this way:
In the afternoon the family, unless they had a party of their own, werealways out. The only person who stayed around was Miss Maitland,sometimes working over her books, sometimes sitting about sewing orreading. That day--about four--I'd seen her as I passed the study windowwriting at her desk. I'd gone on into the big central hall where Iwasn't supposed to belong, but feeling safe with everybody scattered, Ithought I'd make myself comfortable and take a look at the morningpapers. I'd just cuddled down in the corner of the sofa with my favoritedaily when I heard the telephone ring.
Now the bell of the telephone is to me like the trumpet to the old warhorse. And hearing it that way, tingling in the quiet of the big,deserted house, I got a flash that any one wanting to talk to MissMaitland and knowing the habits of the family would choose that hour.There was a 'phone in the lower story--in a closet at the end of thehall--and the extension one was upstairs in a sort of curtained recessoff the main corridor just outside my door. I rose off the sofa as iflifted by a charge of dynamite and slid for the stairs. As I sprinted upI heard the door of Miss Maitland's study open.
The upper hall was deserted and I dashed noiseless into that alcoveplace, one hand lifting off the receiver as soft as a feather, the otherpressed against my mouth to smother the sound of my breathing. On thefloor below Esther Maitland had just connected; I got her firstsentence, quiet and clear as if she was in the room with me:
"Yes. This is Grasslands."
A man's voice answered:
"That you, Esther?"
I could tell she recognized it, for instantly hers changed, showed fearand a sort of pleading:
"Oh, why do you call me up here? I told you not to."
"My dear girl, it's all right--I know they're all out at this hour."
"The servants--I'm afraid of them--and there's a new nursery governesscome."
"I know. I met her in the woods that day. Did you?"
"Of course I did. How could I help it? I said I'd been bathing. Wemustn't go there again--it's much better to write."
The man gave a laugh that was good-humored and easy:
"Don't take it so hard. There's not the slightest need to be worried. Icalled you up to say everything was O. K."
Her answer came with a deep, sighing breath:
"It may be now--but how can we tell? The first excitement's dying downbut that doesn't mean they're not doing anything. Don't think for amoment, because it's worked right so far, that we're out of the woods."
"I'm wise to all that, I know them better than you do. And the fellowthat knows has got it all over the fellow that doesn't. Watchfulwaiting--that's our motto."
"Very well, then _let_ it be watchful. And don't call me up unless it'surgent. I can see you in town when I go in. I won't talk any more.Good-by."
I heard the stillness of a dead wire and then before I let myself think,flew into my room, found a pad and pencil and wrote it down word forword.