CHAPTER VII
CONVALESCENCE
"Is that the Nelson phaeton going out the road?" asked Mrs. Hollis asshe peered out through the dining-room window one morning. "Ishouldn't be a bit surprised if it was Mrs. Nelson making her yearlyvisits, and here my bricks haven't been reddened."
Sandy's heart turned a somersault. He was sitting up for the firsttime, wrapped in blankets and wearing a cap to cover his close-croppedhead. All through his illness he had been tortured by the thought thathe had talked of Ruth, though now wild horses could not have draggedforth a question concerning her.
"Melvy," continued Mrs. Hollis, as she briskly rubbed the sideboardwith some unsavory furniture-polish, "if Mrs. Nelson does come here,you be sure to put on your white apron before you open the door; andfor pity sake don't forget the card-tray! You ought to know betterthan to stick out your hand for a lady's calling-card. I told youabout that last week."
Aunt Melvy paused in her dusting and chuckled: "Lor', honey, dat'sright! You orter put on airs all de time, wid all de money de judge isgot. He says to me yisterday, says he, 'Can't you 'suade yer Miss Suenot to be cleanin' up so much, an' not to go out in de front yard widdat ole sunbonnet on?'"
"Well, I'd like to know how things would get done if I didn't dothem," exclaimed Mrs. Hollis, hotly. "I suppose he would like me tolet things go like the Meeches! The only time I ever saw Mrs. Meechwork was when she swept the front pavement, and then she made Marthawalk around behind her and read out loud while she was doing it."
"It's Mr. Meech that's in the yard now," announced Sandy from theside window. "He's raking the leaves with one hand and a-reading abook with the other."
"I knew it!" cried Mrs. Hollis. "I never saw such doings. They say sheeven leaves the dishes overnight. And yet she can sit on her porch andsmile at people going by, just like her house was cleaned up. I hate ahypocrite."
Sandy had had ample time to watch the Meeches during his longconvalescence. He had been moved from the spare room to a snug littleroom over the kitchen, which commanded a fine view of the neighbors.When the green book got too heavy to hold, or his eyes grew too tiredto look at the many magazines with which the judge supplied him, hewould lie still and watch the little drama going on next door.
Mrs. Meech was a large, untidy woman who always gave the impression ofneeding to be tucked up. The end of her gray braid hung out behind oneear, her waist hung out of her belt, and even the buttons on hershoes hung out of the buttonholes in shameless laziness.
Mr. Meech did not need tucking in; he needed letting out. He seemed tohave shrunk in the wash of life. In spite of the fact that he wasthree sizes too small for his wife, to begin with, he emphasized it bywearing trousers that cleared his shoe-tops and sleeves half-way tohis elbows. But this was only on week-days, for on Sunday Sandy wouldsee him emerge, expand, and flutter forth in an ample suit of shinybroadcloth. For Mr. Meech was the pastor of the Hard-Shell BaptistChurch in Clayton, and if his domestic economy was a matter of opengossip, there was no question concerning the fact of his learning. Ithad been the boast of the congregation for years that Judge Hollis wasthe only man in town who was smart enough to understand his sermons.When Mr. Meech started out in the morning with a book under his armand one sticking out of each pocket, Sandy would pull up on his elbowto watch proceedings. He loved to see fat Mrs. Meech pat the littleman lovingly on the head and kiss him good-by; he loved to see Marthawalk with him to the gate and throw kisses after him until he turnedthe curve in the road.
Martha was a pale, thin girl with two long, straight plaits and along, straight dress. She went to school in the morning, and when shecame home at noon her mother always hurried to meet her and kissed heron both cheeks. Sandy had got quite in the habit of watching for herat the side window where she came to study. He leaned forward now tosee if she were there.
"I thought so!" cried Mrs. Hollis, looking over his shoulder. "Therecomes the Nelson phaeton this minute! Melvy, get on your white apron.I'll wind up the cuckoo-clock and unlock the parlor door."
"Who is it?" ventured Sandy, with internal tremors.
"Hit's Mrs. Nelson an' her niece, Miss Rufe," said Aunt Melvy,nervously trying to reverse her apron after tying the bow in thefront. "Dey's big bugs, dey is. Dey is quality, an' no mistake. Ib'longed to Miss Rufe's grandpaw; he done lef' her all his money, shean' Mr. Carter. Poor Mr. Carter! Dey say he ain't got no lungs tospeak of. Ain't no wonder he's sorter wild like. He takes after hisgrandpaw, my ole mars'. Lor', honey, de mint-juleps jus' nachelly oozeouten de pores ob his grandpaw's skin! But Miss Rufe she ain't likenone ob dem Nelsons; she favors her maw. She's quality inside an'out."
A peal of the bell cut short further interesting revelations. AuntMelvy hurried through the hall, leaving doors open behind her. At thefront door she paused in dismay. Before her stood the Nelsons incalling attire, presenting two immaculate cards for her acceptance.Too late she remembered her instructions.
"'Fore de Lawd!" she cried in consternation, "ef I ain't done fergitdat pan ag'in!"
Sandy, left alone in the dining-room, was listening with every nervea-quiver for the sound of Ruth's voice. The thought that she was hereunder the same roof with him sent the blood bounding through hisveins. He pulled himself up, and trailing the blanket behind him, madehis way somewhat unsteadily across the room and up the back stairs.
Behind the door of his room hung the pride of his soul, a new suit ofclothes, whole, patchless, clean, which the judge had bought him twodays before. He had sat before it in speechless admiration; he hadhung it in every possible light to get the full benefit of its beauty;he had even in the night placed it on a chair beside the bed, so thathe could put out his hand in the dark and make sure it was there. Forit was the first new suit of clothes that he remembered ever to havepossessed. He had not intended to wear it until Sunday, but thepsychological moment had arrived.
With trembling fingers and many pauses for rest, he made his toilet.He looked in the mirror, and his heart nearly burst with pride. Thesuit, to be sure, hung limp on his gaunt frame, and his shaven headgave him the appearance of a shorn lamb, but to Sandy the reflectionwas eminently satisfying. One thing only seemed to be lacking. Hemeditated a moment, then, with some misgiving, picked up a small linendoily from the dresser, and carefully folding it, placed it in hisbreast-pocket, with one corner just visible.
Triumphant in mind, if weak in body, he slipped down the back steps,skirted Aunt Melvy's domain, and turned the corner of the house justas the Nelson phaeton rolled out of the yard. Before he had time togive way to utter despair a glimmer of hope appeared on the horizon,for the phaeton stopped, and there was evidently something the matter.Sandy did not wait for it to be remedied. He ran down the road withall the speed he could muster.
Near the gate where the little branch crossed the turnpike was aslight embankment, and two wheels of the phaeton had slipped over theedge and were buried deep in the soft earth. Beside it, sittingindignantly in the water, was an irate lady who had evidentlyattempted to get out backward and had taken a sudden and unexpectedseat. Her countenance was a pure specimen of Gothic architecture; amassive pompadour reared itself above two Gothic eyebrows whichflanked a nose of unquestioned Gothic tendencies. Her mouth, with itsdrooping corners, completed the series of arches, and the wholeexpression was one of aspiring melancholy and injured majesty.
Kneeling at her side, reassuring her and wiping the water from herhands, was Ruth Nelson.
"God send you ain't hurt, ma'am!" cried Sandy, arriving breathless.
The girl looked up and shook her head in smiling protest, but theGothic lady promptly suffered a relapse.
"I am--I know I am! Just look at my dress covered with mud, and myglove is split. Get my smelling-salts, Ruth!"
Ruth, upon whom the lady was leaning, turned to Sandy.
"Will you hand it to me? It is in the little bag there on the seat."
Sandy rushed to do her bidding. He was rather hazy as to the object ofhis search; but when his
fingers touched a round, soft ball he drew itforth and hastily presented it to the lady's Roman nose.
She, with closed eyes, was taking deep whiffs when a laugh startledher.
"Oh, Aunt Clara, it's your powder-puff!" cried Ruth, unable torestrain her mirth.
Mrs. Nelson rose with as much dignity as her draggled condition wouldpermit. "You'd better get me home," she said solemnly. "I may beinternally injured." She turned to Sandy. "Boy, can't you get thatphaeton back on the road?"
Sandy, whose chagrin over his blunder had sent him to the background,came promptly forward. Seizing the wheel, he made several ineffectualefforts to lift it back to the road.
"It is not moving an inch!" announced the mournful voice from above."Can't you take hold of it nearer the back, and exert a little morestrength?"
Sandy bit his lip and shot a swift glance at Ruth. She was stillsmiling. With savage determination he fell upon the wheel as if it hadbeen a mortal foe; he pushed and shoved and pulled, and finally, witha rally of all his strength, he went on his knees in the mud andlifted the phaeton back on the road.
Then came a collapse, and he leaned against the nearest tree andstruggled with the deadly faintness that was stealing over him.
"Why--why, you are the boy who was sick!" cried Ruth, in dismay.
Sandy, white and trembling, shook his head protestingly. "It's mebellows that's rocky," he explained between gasps.
Mrs. Nelson rustled back into the phaeton, and taking a piece of moneyfrom her purse, held it out to him.
"That will amply repay you," she said.
Sandy flushed to the roots of his close-cropped hair. A tip,heretofore a gift of the gods, had suddenly become an insult. Angry,impetuous words rushed to his lips, and he took a step forward. Thenhe was aware of a sudden change in the girl, who had just stepped intothe phaeton. She shot a quick, indignant look at her aunt, then turnedaround and smiled a good-by to him.
He lifted his cap and said, "I thank ye." But it was not to Mrs.Nelson, who still held the money as they drove out of the avenue.
Sandy went wearily back to the house. He had made his first trial inbehalf of his lady fair, but his soul knew no elation. His beautifulnew armor had sustained irreparable injury, and his vanity hadreceived a mortal wound.