CHAPTER XI
Years had passed before Mrs. Breen and Lucy ever found the courage tospeak of that day when Lucy had hurried from the room, leaving Mrs.Breen too surprised to follow her, or even speak. She sat thinking, soglad and so happy and so proud of the courage shown by Lucy. She heardthe front door close softly and was not surprised, a little later, tohave one of the maids come and tell her that Miss Lucy had telephonedthat she was at Mrs. Hargrave's, and would stay for supper with Elise.
Mrs. Breen sat thinking for an hour, then the right thought came to her.She hastened to the telephone and had a long talk with her husband, andafter a good deal of argument, she went to her room, packed a smalltrunk, ordered the car, had a talk with the housekeeper, and went out.She drove to her husband's office, and he ushered her into his privateroom.
"Now what is all this?" he demanded.
"I told you over the telephone what happened in the library," Mrs. Breensaid. "My dear, I am _so_ happy and so proud of Lucy! But there will bethe most distressing awkwardness for a little, unless something out ofthe ordinary happens to help her out. Now I have never been away withoutyou since we were married. So I have decided to give the child a chanceto regain her poise and strengthen her new resolutions. Something haschanged her, and I am contented to accept it without question until thetime comes when she will tell me of her own accord. I will go home for aweek, and you must spend all the time you can with Lucy. And when youfeel like it, speak well of me."
"That will be a hard job," said her husband, smiling.
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Breen. "Another thing, to keep her interest inme, if you should decide to repaper my room and want to _surprise_ me, Iwould be perfectly satisfied with Lucy's taste."
So when Lucy came in that night, dreading the next step toward theright, she found only her father reading under the library light.
"Hello, Donna Lucia," he said, looking up. "Did you know that we areorphans?"
"No," said Lucy. "What has happened?"
"Mamma decided very suddenly that she had to go home to Boston to attendto some matters, and she did not have time to telephone you or callaround at Mrs. Hargrave's. But she managed to stop in at the office, andshe has left me in your charge."
Lucy heaved a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, she would have a littletime to herself anyway.
A couple of days later Mr. Breen approached the subject of the newwall-paper. He merely _approached_ it, because at the first mention Lucyfairly flung herself on it and appropriated it. The very thing, shedecided. She thought that room was about as shabby as it could be. Couldshe select the paper? Of course she could! She knew exactly what mammawould like.
At her use of the word mamma, Mr. Breen's heart leaped. He had been apatient, but very unhappy man, and the thought that his little householdmight become united was the greatest happiness he could imagine. So hegrumbled out that he was glad of that, because he never could tell the_least_ thing about the silly strips of paper they showed in the stores,and Lucy could go ahead and get whatever she wanted.
But the following morning, when a van backed up to the door and a coupleof men commenced to take away all the prettiest wicker furniture in thehouse he demanded some explanation.
"Why, they have to be painted for mamma's new room," said the practicalMiss Breen. "You said I could go ahead, and I have gone!"
"All our furniture has gone too, I should say," said Mr. Breen.
"Just the best of the wicker," answered Lucy. "I thought and thought alllast night, and I have decided just what would be the _loveliest_ thingin the world for her, with her violet blue eyes and golden hair. So whenyou were shaving I telephoned for the men to come and take the chairsand tables and that chaise-longue and they are all going to be painted.
"And today you had better write her that you think it would be a goodthing, as long as she is there, to stay another week. Don't let hersuspect, but _don't_ let her come home."
"Very well," said Mr. Breen with a twinkle in his eye, but outwardlyvery meek. "Just as you say. Send the bills to me."
"Oh, I was going to," said Lucy with the happiest laugh he had heardfrom her for months.
Mr. Breen did not come home for luncheon, and every day Lucy managed tohave Elise or Rosanna or Helen take that meal with her.
Lucy worked like mad and nearly wore the workmen out, she hurried themso. Mrs. Breen decided to make a longer stay, but even then there wasbut little time, because Lucy had decided that all the woodwork must bere-enameled. When that was done and the paper on, she cast aside the oldrug with scorn, and took the three girls downtown to buy others. As thedays went on, Lucy found that her point of view was wholly changed. Shewas so intent on the beautiful surprise she was planning that it seemedto sweep her mind clean of all the dark and unworthy feelings that hadfilled it. She even wrote to Mrs. Breen at a suggestion from Elise, apleasant friendly letter, ending, "With love, Lucy."
And to her surprise Mrs. Breen answered the letter at once, with a longone all about her visit, and enclosing funny little cartoons of each oneof the family, including the boy who had spoken his mind to Lucy.Strange to say, Lucy was able to acknowledge the truth of the youngman's remark.
"Some day," said Lucy to herself, "if this turns out all right, I willtell him that he was _perfectly right_."
Lucy was coming to think, with a sense of deep chagrin, that she herselfhad been the one in the wrong. And being an honest girl and wanting veryhumbly and deeply to live up to the pledge of the Girl Scouts, she wasgrowing most anxious to make good her faults.
So she drove the painters and paperhangers and upholsterers almost wild,and had the happiness of seeing the beautiful room all settled and inorder two days before Mrs. Breen was expected. It had a hard timestaying settled however, because Lucy spent all her time after schooltrying things in new places to see if they looked any better. Her fathervowed that he would go up and nail the things down, but he was just asproud and pleased as Lucy.
With all the planning and plotting, and various jaunts to the shopstogether, and to some movies and once to the theatre, Lucy and herfather had entered a new epoch in their lives. They too seemed to haveforgotten the past.
As Elise said, they found that they could make a beginning anywhere. Andonce begun, they found that it was like a door that had opened into abeautiful place full of happiness and sunshine--a door that closedsoftly behind them and shut out all the despair and gloom on the otherside.
When the day came for Mrs. Breen's return, Mr. Breen insisted on Lucycoming to meet her, and Lucy, in whom some of the old dread seemedstruggling to awake, went silently. But when she was suddenly caught ina warm embrace, before even her father was greeted, and when a sweetvoice said, "Oh, what a _long_ two weeks it has been, Lucy! _Do_ say youhave missed me!" Lucy felt that all was indeed well with her world.
Mrs. Breen had brought another brother with her: a shy, awkward boy,evidently frightened to death of Lucy, a fact which of course set hercompletely at her ease. They drove home, and Lucy and her father doggedMrs. Breen's footsteps up the stairs when she said she would go and takeoff her things. Not for worlds would they have missed seeing her firstlook at the newly decorated room. And it was worth all the trouble towitness her delight and appreciation.
So Happiness and Love and Understanding came into the Breen home. Lucywore her trefoil with a new gratitude and a new understanding. Elisefelt a happiness that she had thought she could never feel, for she hadhelped a sister Scout through a dark and dreadful place in her life.Mrs. Breen was so happy that she sang and sang all the day long, andwhen one day a baby boy set up a lusty roar in the beautiful room thatLucy had made, it was Lucy who named him, and Lucy who assumed such airsof superiority in speaking of "my baby brother" that the girls grew toavoid the subject of children in general as it was sure to bring fromLucy some anecdote to prove the vast superiority and beauty of the Breenbaby.
Rosanna was happy too. Uncle Robert had been away longer than Rosannaliked. She was surprised to find h
ow much she missed Uncle Robert. Andmuch as she loved him, and wanted him to be happy, she decided that itwas really a good thing that he did _not_ care for girls. The variousuncles who did like girls she noticed had a way of marrying one of themand leaving home for good. That was a poor plan, thought Rosanna, as shefelt the silence in the big old house. No number of girls could make thewhistly noises Uncle Robert could when he ran upstairs three steps at atime or dashed down again. No one but Uncle Robert could tootle soentrancingly on the flute, or pick out such funny records for theVictrola. No one in the world would think to bring one a box of candyand leave it hidden in his hat, or just outside the door for one to findafter dinner. No other Uncle would remember a little girl's birthdayonce a month with a new dollar bill.
Rosanna, driven by a real loneliness to confide in someone, spent muchtime with Miss Hooker and while Rosanna honestly thought she wasattending strictly to Scout business, the conversation was sure to sliparound to Uncle Robert. Miss Hooker never appeared to join Rosanna inher talk, but it was surprising what a good listener she proved to be.The only time she said anything was when Rosanna would enlarge on theway Uncle Robert felt about girls. Then Miss Hooker would always assertthat she thought he was perfectly right, because she herself thoughtvery little of men. Silly creatures she said they were, at which loyalRosanna would always declare, "But Uncle Robert isn't."
Miss Hooker would answer, "_Possibly_ not," in a manner that insinuatedthat perhaps he wasn't, and perhaps he _was_, but Rosanna let it go.
However, Rosanna was happy because Uncle Robert had written her that hewas coming home in a day or two, and that she might get ready to look inthe left hand pocket of his overcoat, and whatever was there she couldhave. When she told Miss Hooker she was grieved to hear her say that shewas not sure that she would be around to see the surprise, because shewas planning to go away herself, and wasn't it too bad?
"I should say it was!" said Rosanna. "Why, then you won't see UncleRobert either!"
"No," said Miss Hooker, "but it really doesn't make any difference. Idon't suppose I am any more anxious to see him than he is to see me."
When Uncle Robert appeared and came up the front steps three at a timeas usual, Rosanna was at the door to meet him. She jumped into his armsand hugged him until he begged for mercy.
As she let him go, she happened to think of the left hand pocket, andhad to think which was the left. While she was deciding, she heard afunny noise, and there in the pocket was a fuzzy head. The most adorablelittle head! It was a tiny baby collie, looking like a small bear.Rosanna had him out in a second, and Uncle Robert left her with her newpet while he went to speak to his mother.
That night he came up to show Rosanna how to put her puppy to bed forthe night, and when the little fellow at last snuggled down in hisbasket, and went to sleep, Uncle Robert settled down in his favoritechair and lighted a cigarette and wanted to hear all the news.
"What shall I start with?" asked Rosanna, listening to the softbreathing of the little collie.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Uncle Robert. "Begin with Miss--erGwenny."
"Why, you needn't call her _Miss_," said Rosanna. "You never used to! Ithought first you were going to say begin with Miss Hooker."
"Ridiculous!" laughed Uncle Robert, cocking his eye up at the ceiling."Begin with Gwenny, of course."
"Well," said Rosanna, "we have only had two letters from her mother. Onewas soon after you went away, and said that Gwenny was very comfortableindeed, and had a fine room, and was making a great many friends. Thedoctor couldn't tell when he would operate, because he would have totake Gwenny any time she happened to be at her best. That was about allof that letter. The next one was just the other day. And Uncle Robert,they have operated! They telegraphed for Doctor Rick, and he is therenow. But Mrs. Harter wrote that the operation was over and DoctorBranshaw thinks it will be perfectly successful."
"Well, that is perfectly splendid!" said Uncle Robert. "Did she tell youhow Gwenny stood it?"
"Yes. She said for a couple of hours they were afraid her heart wasgoing to stop, but that Doctor Branshaw stood right over her, and hadeverything ready to start it again if they could. He stayed with her allnight. You ought to hear the way Mrs. Harter talks about him. She thinkshe is a saint, as well as the greatest doctor in the whole world."
"He assays pretty well toward solid gold," said Uncle Robert.
"Mrs. Harter says they don't know when they will be able to get home,but already Gwenny sleeps better and is beginning to want to eat. Shenever did, you know."
"That is certainly fine news," said Uncle Robert. "Anything elsehappened while I was away?"
"You know that Lucy Breen?" asked Rosanna.
Uncle Robert shook his head.
"She has turned out to be a real nice girl, and Helen and Elise and I goover there a lot. And her mother (it's really her stepmother, only Lucyis mad if you call her that) is perfectly lovely. If you could onlymarry _her_, Uncle Robert!"
"Thank you, Rosanna, but Mr. Breen looks husky and he might object."
"Oh, that was a joke," said Rosanna. "Like the time you said you prettynear loved Miss Hooker. I wish you could have heard her laugh when Itold her that."
"Oh, you told her, did you?" said Uncle Robert.
"It was so funny I had to."
"What did she say?" asked Uncle Robert, sitting up suddenly.
"She said she thought you were the most amusing person she had ever metand that no one could possibly take you seriously. I agreed with her."
"I'll bet you did!" said Uncle Robert.
"She has gone away," said Rosanna as an afterthought. "She went today. Itold her I was sorry she wouldn't be able to see what you brought me,and wouldn't see you either, but she said it didn't make any differenceas she wasn't any more anxious to see you than she supposed you were tosee her."
Uncle Robert laughed a short, queer laugh.
"Well, Rosanna, just you watch what happens now! I will just pay her upfor that."
"What do you care?" asked Rosanna. "I don't see what difference itmakes. She likes you all right; she thinks you are so funny."
"I will show her how funny I can be," said Uncle Robert. "Where has shegone?"
"To Atlantic City," said Rosanna.
"I may see her there," said Uncle Robert. "The doctor says the sea airwould be great for me."
"What ails you?" said Rosanna anxiously. "You look perfectly well."
"A little trouble with my heart," said Uncle Robert soberly. "It actslike the very deuce, Rosanna. Part of the time it feels sort of--sortof, well, sort of _empty_, and then it has spells when I get to thinkinghard and beats as fast as it can. It is awful, Rosanna."
"I should say it was!" said Rosanna, "Oh, Uncle Robert, _do_ try to getit well! If anything should happen to you, I would think it was thatbenefit. You had to work so hard."
"I think myself that had something to do with it," said Robert, "but ofcourse I only did my duty, and I don't blame a soul."