Read The Challengers Page 12


  "Oh!" said the nurse, looking her over swiftly, with that quick comprehension of nurses who are used to looking into other people's tragedies every day. "Well, you don't need to go into particulars, then. Just tell her that he is doing as well as could be expected. He's holding his own so far of course, but it's hard to tell anything so soon. There's a concussion and a fractured leg and plenty of bruises. He's got a lot to contend with, but so far there's no indication of internal injuries. Of course, it's early yet to tell about that!"

  Melissa's heart sank lower and lower.

  "Will he be--out of this--this--this delirium by morning?" she asked shyly. She knew so pitifully little about illness.

  "Probably not," said the nurse in a matter-of-fact tone. "It may last some days. Of course, he might develop fever and it might get worse. But I wouldn't worry--"

  There was a sudden preemptory call for the head nurse, and she vanished, leaving Melissa alone in a room with only one other occupant, a sad-faced woman sitting huddled in a willow rocker, sniffing and wiping her eyes occasionally.

  "My girl's got a crisis comin' t'night!" she explained to Melissa, who stood uncertainly, waiting to see if the head nurse would return. She wanted to ask her a few more questions before she telephoned her mother.

  "Oh!" said Melissa, a lump suddenly rising in her throat. Trouble, trouble, trouble! Everyone was in trouble, everywhere! And they thought there was a God!

  But the woman was eager to unburden herself. She had sat for a full half hour with no casual stranger in whom to confide. She was like a thing bottled up ready to burst.

  "She's been a-layin' there in that bed fer nine days an' ain't knowed me," she went on, the tears readily accompanying her speech. "An' her with a little six-month-old baby what won't eat her food and cries day an' night! An' me past my seventies! I don't know how I'm a-gonta manage ef she's took. Iva was a good girl ef I do say so as I raised her, even ef she was allus off ta the movies nights and me ta tend the baby. But they say there's only just a chance in a lifetime she'll come through."

  "I'm sorry," said Melissa, trying to turn away from more pain. She felt she had all of her own she could bear.

  "She ain't ben lucky nohow," went on the garrulous voice meditatively. "When she was little, I had all kindsa trouble with her. She come outta th' measles, only ta get whooping cough an' the chicken pox a month later; then she got runned over an' hed a broke rib an' a sprained foot, an' when she got just so she cud he'p me a little, she took ta goin' with this good-fer-nothin' Clip Fox an' finally married him; an' after the baby was born, he up an' died. Not to say he was any good ta her ef he'd lived. She hadta keep her job herself, ur she'd a starved. He never earned a cent, an' when he did, he kep' it hisself. He--"

  "Excuse me!" said Melissa, feeling that if she listened to another word she would either laugh or scream. "I've got to go and telephone. It's very important."

  "Oh, that's all right," said the woman. "I'll tell ya the rest when ya come back. I'm gonta set up all night. They don't know how it'll turn, y'know."

  "Oh, do they allow you to stay here all night?"

  "How could they he'p it?" cackled the woman mirthlessly. "They couldn't put ya out in the street when yer only daughter was dyin', could they?"

  Melissa shivered and hurried off down the hall resolved to try and find some other refuge than the guest reception room if possible.

  She did not venture toward the elevator. She had a feeling that she would rather get about herself. The elevator man would perhaps expect a tip, and she must not let a single cent go unnecessarily. So she stole down the stairs, floor after floor, three floors, to the office desk. But there was no one at the desk. Everything seemed to be shut up for the night.

  Further search and inquiry developed a telephone booth, and after frantically trying to get a connection with the house of Brady, the head of which happened to be off hunting her sister Phyllis while the rest of his family attended the movies, Melissa finally resorted to a telegram.

  Arrived safely. Stephen sleeping. Can tell you more of his condition in the morning. Don't worry, Melissa.

  It seemed an unsatisfactory telegram when it was finished, but it had taken all her wits to compose it, and she was really relieved not to have to talk with her mother tonight; for it was certain she could tell nothing good about her brother from what she had so far seen, and her mother would be sure to worm it all out of her. Melissa was not good at hiding things, especially if she was troubled about them. Phyllis could keep things to herself if she thought it would do harm to tell them.

  As she turned away from the telephone booth at last, she was suddenly aware that she was overpoweringly hungry. She looked around for someone to tell her where to find a restaurant, but the elevator boy had gone off duty.

  A glance outside showed wide lawns in every direction, with distant houses lit, showing it was a residential section. She felt too tired to walk far, and it would not do to get lost and perhaps not be allowed back in the hospital again. But what should she do? There did not seem to be a taxi in the vicinity of the hospital. Well, she would have to go back upstairs and ask.

  On the third floor she encountered a pleasant-looking nurse carrying a glass of milk.

  "A restaurant? There isn't such a thing nearer than down in the village, and I doubt if it would be open at this hour. The hotel of course, but that's a long distance, too. Are you here for the night?"

  "Why, yes. I thought I'd sit in the waiting room, if nobody objected. I got here so late, and I don't know where to find a lodging I could afford. If I just could get a cracker or two, or even a drink of water, I could go out early and get breakfast."

  "There's plenty of ice water in the cooler around at the end of that corridor to the right, but you ought to have something else. How about this glass of milk? I saved it for my patient to take if she wanted it, but she's gone to sleep and won't need it. You can have it if you like. And--why, I can get you some crackers. Just come down this way. You needn't say anything about it. We're not supposed to do this of course, but I can't see any harm. Nobody will care. Come."

  Melissa followed her to a clean bare room like a kitchen: long empty tables, a great refrigerator, a gas stove, and a sink. The nurse produced a box of crackers, and Melissa drank the milk and ate and felt refreshed.

  "Sorry I can't give you a room to rest in," said the nurse, reappearing for a moment just as Melissa finished her repast, "but that's against the rules. But I brought you a pillow, and there's no one in the waiting room on this floor now. You can turn out the light and lie down on the couch for a while. Did you say you had someone on this floor sick?"

  "Why, no," said Melissa, flushing guiltily, "my brother is up on the next floor, but I was walking up and met you. Perhaps I don't belong here. Should I go up to the next floor waiting room?"

  "Oh, no, that's all right. Just go in here. This one is empty, and you might find a lot of gabbing people up there." Melissa, remembering the strange old woman, thankfully walked into the darkness of the empty room and curled down on a lumpy davenport with her pillow.

  She thought she was tired enough to fall asleep at once, but instead she had to live over again the whole awful day. Those dreadful Hollisters! The terrible hour in the ward watching poor Steve! Even the poor old babbling woman and her erring daughter. What a troublous world it was. How it needed a God or someone to help. But it was out of the question to believe in a God in a world like this one.

  She fell asleep at last wondering, fearfully, what the morrow would bring forth.

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was nearly midnight when Phyllis walked in on her anxious mother, with Butcher Brady just behind her, his genial face in a broad grin.

  "I told ya I'd find her all right," he said, wagging his head and beaming. "I just hadta drive up one street and down the other a coupla times, and there she was right on the sidewalk walking along as fast as she could."

  "Walking!" said Mrs. Challenger, lifting a white face, from wh
ich the anxiety had not yet faded. "Oh, Phyllis, my child! How frightened I have been! And what were you walking for at this time of night? Didn't you have money for carfare? I told you to be sure--"

  "Yes, Mother," lilted Phyllis, "I had it, but I came on a bus from way uptown, and it stopped only three blocks from here. I thought it was better to walk than hang around waiting for a car. There wasn't one in sight."

  "But where have you been? All day! Phyllis, how could you stay so long without sending any word?"

  "I couldn't help it, Mother dear," said Phyllis, taking off her hat and sitting down wearily. "I tried to get Mr. Brady at eight o'clock to let him know I would be late, but they didn't answer. He says they were all out. Why, you see, Mother, I got some work to do, and the man said he would give me ten dollars if I would get it done tonight. It was thousands of circulars that had to be addressed and stamped and sealed and mailed, and I just got them all done. Is there anything to eat, Mother? I'm hungry as a bear. I didn't dare stop to get any dinner; I was afraid I wouldn't get done, and it was getting so late."

  "Oh, my dear!" gasped her mother, brushing away the quick tears. But Rosalie had already hurried into the kitchen and was back in a minute with a covered plate containing a nice warm dinner that she had set in the warming oven for her sister and a glass of cold milk from the refrigerator.

  Phyllis sat down and began to eat, while the others hovered near watching her, eager with questions. Even Butcher Brady lingered by the door wistfully, eager as the rest.

  "But how did you get work, Phyllis?" asked the mother. "Was it one of our friends who gave it--?"

  "No, Mother," said Phyllis, setting down her glass of milk, "it was just a man, a stranger. His name is Lucius Brown, Incorporated. You see, I had a plan when I left this morning. I had decided to take a street and just go into every place of business and ask for the proprietor, and ask if there was anything at all he needed done, even if it was only for a day."

  "What an idea, child!"

  "Well, there wasn't apparently any use in trying for a regular job. I'd answered all the advertisements I found and asked all the people I knew that would have any likelihood of needing a helper. I started away uptown because I had seen a notice in a window on that street, and I thought perhaps they still wanted someone, but I found it was filled, of course."

  "Poor child!" murmured Mrs. Challenger.

  "So then I started going into every place up one side of the block," went on Phyllis, buttering the bread that Rosalie brought her. "There was a baker and confectioner, a drugstore, a wholesale toy place, a news agency, a secondhand place, a cheap restaurant--"

  "Oh, Phyllis. Not a place like that!"

  "Sure, Mother, I'd take anything that wasn't actually low down. Well, and then I came to this place. A kind of stationer's, with dusty pencils and erasers in the window. I almost didn't go in; it seemed such a kind of dusty, useless little place. But I'd vowed to try every place on the block, so I went.

  "There was a customer in there and a young man showing him fountain pens. I asked for the proprietor, and he nodded toward the back of the store. Mr. Brown was at the telephone talking, so I went back and stood in front of the desk waiting.

  "I could see he was worried and very impatient with the people on the wire, and he looked at me as if he would bite me. I almost turned and ran. But just then he turned to me and snapped: 'What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?' 'I'll wait,' I said. 'What do you want?' he snapped again just like a dog barking. It didn't seem worthwhile, but I said my little speech just to have it over with: 'I've come in to see if you've got anything at all I could do for you today. I've got to earn some money, and I'll work by the day.' He grunted and looked me up and down. 'Can you write?' he asked and shoved a desk pen and pad at me. 'Of course,' I said. 'Well, write down your name and address.' So I wrote it. 'That'll do,' he snapped. 'When can you go to work?' 'Now,' I said. 'Will you last out the day?' 'I certainly will,' I said. 'Who are you?' he asked me, looking me through as if his eyes were gimlets. 'Did you ever work before?' I said I was the daughter of a university professor and had done a lot of his secretarial work, and he was sick and I had to earn some money right away. I said I would like to be paid by the day if possible.

  "He hung up the receiver and said: 'All right. I'll give you ten dollars if you'll get every one of those circulars addressed and stamped and sealed and in the mail before midnight tonight. I was trying to get the agency for a secretary, but they are so slow I can't wait.'

  "There was an awful stack of them and I hadn't an idea how long it would take to do it, but I said I'd do my best, and I went right to work. Of course, I was a little slow at first, but I'd write addresses till my hand ached and then I would fold and put in envelopes awhile, and so I managed, but I just got the last one finished about half an hour ago."

  "Didn't you have any lunch, sister?" asked Rosalie aghast.

  "Yes," said Phyllis, "I had two sandwiches in my handbag, and I ran down to the corner and got an apple to eat with them. That was all the time I could spare. I was afraid I wouldn't get them done."

  "And did he pay you, sister?"

  "Yes. Here's the ten-dollar bill. He came in at half past ten and gave it to me. He said I was a first-rate worker and if I didn't have anything else by that time, I might come back Monday. He might have more work for me."

  "Ten whole dollars in a day!" said Rosalie with shining eyes. "That's great, Phyllie dear!"

  "She's some businesswoman!" said Brady, beaming on her. "Well, I guess I better be getting along or my missus will be wondering what's got me. Good night. I hope ye hear good news of yer son in the morning."

  Mrs. Challenger looked up, suddenly anxious again.

  "Oh, but isn't it strange that we haven't had word from Melissa yet? How many miles did you say it was?"

  "Oh, she likely wouldn't get there till near midnight," hazarded the butcher cheerily, "and mebee the telegraph offices were all shut up."

  They discussed Melissa and her journey after Brady had left, and Phyllis tried to cheer her mother.

  "I don't see why you're so anxious, Mother," she said as she finished the last bite of her supper. "Melissa has good sense. What would you have her do? Turn down a perfectly good chance to go to Steve when it didn't cost her a cent? You know you would have had her go if you had had it to decide. You said yourself you couldn't get away without telling Father all about it, and that wouldn't be so good. These people must be nice, kind people to stop and suggest taking her. Having a son in that college, of course they're sort of nice people, I suppose."

  "Oh, I suppose so," sighed Mrs. Challenger. "But there are so many automobile accidents these days."

  "Well, don't think about that. Nothing will likely happen to Lissa. Think how many people go in automobiles every day and don't ever get hurt. It's just because you are not used to having one. Why, you know, if we had one you wouldn't think anything of it. Lissa and I would both likely be driving everywhere."

  "Well, it's all a terribly anxious time," murmured the weary mother. "You going off to work till midnight in a store with two strange men, and Lissa going miles away with strangers in a strange car. How do we know that she hasn't been kidnapped?"

  Phyllis laughed.

  "My eye! What would they kidnap Lissa for? They never do that unless there's money somewhere. No, not even when the girl is as pretty as Lissa. Cheer up, Mumsie! You don't make matters any better by worrying over an accident that may never happen. As for me, my boss has grizzly gray hair and an old wife, and the salesman in the dusty front of the store has a girl without any chin. She runs in from the ten-cent store around the corner where she works to see him at noon. Now, come, let's go to bed. Tomorrow's on the way."

  "Gee!" said Bob, out of the darkness of his bedroom, after they thought he was asleep. "Gee, Phyl, you're great. Ten bucks in one day! Some sister, I'll say!"

  The next morning was very hard for Mrs. Challenger. There was nothing she could do about their situatio
n, no one she could think of further to go and see. Her soul shrank in horror from going again to those five men whom she had failed to meet yesterday. It was all foolishness anyway. They were not intimate friends. Why should they be responsible for mere acquaintances? There was nothing else she could do. She was shut up to prayer. If God couldn't do something, they would all have to go to the poorhouse. They couldn't expect Phyllis to earn ten dollars every day.

  She could not settle to anything, even her desolate kind of prayer, until she heard from Melissa. She walked the floor from window to door and back again, watching for a telegram or for the butcher's boy to summon her to the telephone. And finally when Melissa's message did come, it brought her no comfort, only anxiety longer drawn out.

  The telegram came about ten o'clock. The boy had been wandering around the city hunting for the right place because Melissa had made a mistake in the street number. That was another thing to be anxious about. Suppose Melissa sent another message; perhaps it, too, would be delayed. And so the morning passed in anxious waiting. Once she saw a newsboy pass and summoned him, spending a precious two cents for a paper and carefully studying the suburban For Rent advertisements, then sighing to think that even if she could find a reasonably cheap place in the outskirts of the city, where would the money come from to pay the rent, move their pitifully few belongings, and get their other things out of storage? Even ten dollars a day now and then wouldn't do all that.

  The morning passed in anxiety with no further message from Melissa. The mother dared not go out of the house for a moment lest one would come while she was gone and she would miss it. She tried to understand why Melissa should be so silent. Surely she would understand how anxious they were. She conjured all sorts of reasons why no news had come. She could no longer worry lest her eldest daughter was kidnapped, for her first message had allayed that trouble. But as the hours dragged by, she grew fairly frantic.