But you know what I said before you left, how I loved you and wanted to marry you, and how I was going to let you know when I was able to get you a house.
So now here I am! Something really wonderful has happened I've got a job that pays good wages, and I've found a house I can begin to buy right off. I've saved enough for the first down payment, and I want to get married right away. So if you can come home at once and see the house before we take it that would nice. But anyhow, I'm coming to you if you will write and tell me just where and what time of day I can best see you. I'd like to come this week if you can make it convenient, because I've got an option on the house, and it won't last long. Everybody else will be after it. It's a swell little house. So tell me where to come and when. I suppose you are working during the day, so I can come and meet you and take you out to dinner, and then we can go someplace and talk it all over.
Yours as ever, your true lover,
Sam
Dale closed up the letter quickly and put it in its envelope. She looked over toward the nurse who was feeding the baby with spoonfuls of a prepared formula. She had a feeling that the nurse must have seen the effect of that letter in her face. She felt her cheeks were crimson. She was distressed. Poor Sam! Going as far as that! Picking out the house and getting together the money!
She hurried over to the little desk by the window and began to write rapidly.
Dear Sam,
I certainly was surprised to get your letter, and I'm so sorry that you have kept to your purpose, because, Sam, I cannot marry you, ever. I do not love you with the kind of love people ought to have when they marry, and I never can. I admire you very much for your fine principles, and for your courage and bravery to go ahead and accomplish your purposes, but that is not love, and it is not the kind of feeling to base a marriage on.
You are just my good friend, Sam, and always will be that. I would like very much to see you sometime and have a nice little talk, but it can't be at present.
The job I have just now is helping to care for a sick person, and I cannot count on my hours at all, so it wouldn't do any good for you to try and come to see me, not at present. We'll just have to put that off till the right time comes, And, Sam, I'd like to put it off until you have got over this idea of wanting to marry me, because I never can.
I would be so glad if you could find some other girl you could love, who would love you and make a happy home with you. I really want that for you, Sam. So please get to work and make it come true.
Your true friend,
Dale Hathaway
Dale went out and mailed that letter at once. She didn't want Sam coming down here to complicate matters. How unusual to have a proposal of marriage right in the midst of this strange situation she was in now. She didn't want any wild ideas getting back to her hometown where they had known her all her life. Mrs. Beck's remarks suddenly came to mind. There was no telling what people might think of her, caring for a strange little baby, in a sort of partnership with a young man whom she had only known a few days. Well, she couldn't help it of course. She couldn't let the poor little soul die. She had to help. She went sadly back to the apartment, feeling suddenly very much alone. It made all the difference in the world to have Rand gone. His presence seemed to make all things right, and maybe that was not as it should be. Maybe she ought to get out of here before he returned, and let him know that she could not go on like this.
Then the memory of her inheritance came to her. She had money now and could take the baby if he would let her have him. When he came back she would talk to him about it. Of course, if he felt badly to give him up she mustn't--still, how would he take care of a baby? Oh, of course he could hire a nurse.
That thought brought a desolate little sadness. Then she hurried in to see if the baby was all right, and as she came and stood above him while he was being fed little sips of water, he seemed to look straight at her as if he recognized her, and he swallowed the water and then gurgled out a weak little "Ah!" as if he was trying to salute her.
"He knows you!" said the nurse looking up at Dale. "Can you beat that, at his age! And sick as he has been! He's a smart little kiddie though, to know you! Now isn't that sweet?"
The baby was licking his lips and staring at her in a really concentrated stare. Dale felt a sudden pulling at her heartstrings to think the little thing knew her, recognized the difference between herself and the nurse. She gave him a sweet little smile that said she was glad he knew her, though she wasn't at all sure he did. Yet it did look that way.
And then the telephone rang, and her heart began to beat more wildly. Telephone! Who would call? The doctor?
She hurried to answer, and then she heard Rand's voice, eager, comforting, interested.
"Is that you, Dale?"
He had never called her Dale before, and while she didn't stop just now to analyze the fact, but put it away for happy thinking when this was over, it made her glad. She told herself quite primly that she shouldn't be so glad. Yet of course it was all right, for hadn't he been up in the awful sky, where all sorts of terrible possibilities were lurking? Yes, she was glad he was safe yet. He wasn't away from them in an unknown world. He was right there on the wire, talking in his old familiar voice, wanting to know--"Is that you, Dale?" and her heart leaped up in spite of her chiding.
So she tried to make her own voice sound quite matter-of-fact, "Yes, George!" But somehow she couldn't get rid of the lilt that crept in without her knowledge and made the two words sound like a madrigal. The prosaic nurse heard it and pricked up her ears.
"Yes, I thought those two--" she told herself, as she went on with her monotonous work.
"Are you all right, Dale?"
"Oh, yes!" like an antiphonal chant. The joy of it seemed to throb over the wire, yet she only thought she was being quite quiet and subdued.
"Did you rest today?"
"Yes, sir, a lot," she chanted happily.
"Well, do you feel all right?"
"Why certainly," her laughter rang out like bells. "Why shouldn't I?"
"And the little guy, is he all right?"
"As right as you could expect. He's just enjoyed a nice drink of hot water, and the nurse says he recognized me. He said 'Ah!' He looked right at me and said 'Ah!' "
"No kidding?"
"No kidding!" said Dale happily.
"What does the nurse say about him?"
"Mr. Rand wants to know what you think of the baby tonight, Nurse," said Dale, lifting a formal glance toward the nurse.
"Why, I think he's doing finely," said the nurse. "This is the best day he's had since I've been here. I don't know how this snowy weather is going to affect him. It may bring back that hoarse cough, and I'm hoping for the best."
Dale detailed the nurse's message.
"Well, do you need me?" was the next question.
"We miss you," said Dale, trying to sound matter-of-fact, "but I think we're doing very well."
"When does the doctor come again? Find out what he thinks about whether I'm needed. I can work with more vigor when I know I'm on the path of duty and not missing something important I ought to be doing."
"The doctor doesn't come again till late this evening. He had an emergency operation tonight, but he means to drop in on us the last thing. He seemed to think the baby was going along all right. Did you have a good trip?"
"Oh yes, only I wished I was on the way home instead of on the way out."
"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.
Chapter 12
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 real
ly 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."