But Boothby Farwell did not come up on the porch again. He did not bid his hostess good-bye, nor say he had had a good time, not even in the modern patter of the day did he do the courteous thing. He stood dourly in the driveway assisting the ladies into the cars, but he did not once turn his eyes toward Mary Elizabeth until they were driving away. Then he turned and gave her such a look of menace and hate as she would not soon forget. It was like a threat.
But Mary Elizabeth kept her lovely color, the shine of her eyes, the serene smile of her lips, until the cars had swept away around the curve of the drive, out the big iron gate, up the coast road, and disappeared like two wild specks in the distance. Then she suddenly dropped limply in one of the porch rockers, put her burning face down in her cold hands, and began to laugh.
She laughed until the tears began to come, and then, lifting her face to brush them away, she became aware of a stubby young figure in a wet red bathing suit, with dripping hair and a look of terror on his face.
Sam was standing on the grass beside the path and regarding her with deep anxiety. Mary Elizabeth looked at him and began to laugh again.
“Sam,” she said when she could speak, “what did you do with the gentleman’s liquor?”
Sam looked sheepish and slowly began to grin.
“Put it where it can’t do any harm!” he said laconically.
“Where Sam? Where did you put it?”
“Down the drain!” he said, eyeing his cousin keenly to see if she was going to make him confess and apologize.
But Mary Elizabeth was laughing again. Somehow she had to laugh or cry, and she chose laughing. For Boothby Farwell had managed to unnerve her, as she knew he knew he would.
Sam stood still and regarded her with a half-fearful little grin. He wasn’t just sure of this cousin since those “city bums,” as he chose to call their recent guests, had been here. He couldn’t tell just how much Mary Beth thought of that poor fish Farwell. Maybe she was engaged to him after all, as his mother had once intimated, and if that was so, he was done with her. A girl who could have Mr. Saxon for a friend to go and get engaged to a rotten egg like that Boothby Farwell—well, if she was, he would go back to the city tomorrow. He wouldn’t stand for it, not a minute!
But he had seen a look of weariness and defeat in her eyes when she looked up through her laughter, and he sensed that something had happened more than he knew. He felt troubled for Mary Elizabeth. He was there to protect her, and what could he do?
So he stood on one cold foot after the other, beginning to shiver a little now. A strong breeze was coming up, and he was turning blue around his mouth and his teeth were chattering, but he stood there puzzling what to do.
Then Mary Elizabeth looked up again, saw him there, and stopped laughing.
“You’re a dear!” she suddenly said earnestly. “But you are catching cold, Buddie. Run up and change quickly, and you and I will take a run together on the sand and get the day out of our system!”
So Sam hurried off to his room, and in a very short time appeared reasonably attired, his hair giving evidence of having received what is known as a lick-and-a-promise, but his face full of eagerness.
They had quite a run on the sand and came back shining and a bit breathless.
“Did you get the afternoon mail from the box, Buddie?” asked Mary Elizabeth. “Dad said he was going to write me about that electrical work.”
“Why, no,” said the boy and sprang away to get it.
He came back with several letters in his hand and eagerness written all over him.
“Oh, gee!” he said. “There’s one for me from Mr. Saxon. That’ll be the new lesson. Won’t that be great! Now we can do some of it this evening, can’t we?”
“We surely can,” said Mary Elizabeth, looking up from her own handful of mail and giving a wistful glace at the address on Sam’s letter then turning back to her own and sorting it over, hoping there might be one for her also, though she knew there had been scarcely time since she had written.
They settled down on the piazza to read their letters, Mary Elizabeth lifting a furtive glance to the boy at her feet in his usual place on the top step. She watched his face change from bright eagerness to dismay. Then he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh gosh! Good night! Read that, Mary Beth!” And springing up, he cast his letter in her lap and dashed away up to his room.
Chapter 16
With consternation in her eyes and a great fear clutching at her heart, Mary Elizabeth stared after the excited boy. He leaped up the stairs three steps to a bound and banged his door after him. Then she picked up the letter and began to read.
Dear Prayer-Partner:
I am writing in great haste to ask you to help me pray for my dear mother, who is very critically ill. There are no doctors left in our vicinity whom I can trust, all the specialists have gone north, and not a nurse to be had. I have to be doctor and nurse and housemaid, for Father has broken his ankle and is able to do very little to help.
Humanly speaking, there is no hope for Mother, though if I had my old doctor-teacher here from New York, of whom I have told you, I feel certain he could save her for us, for I saw him perform just such an operation as she needs and save a woman’s life.
But I know that with God all things are possible, so I am calling on all you boys to pray with me that if it be God’s will He will let her live a little while longer.
You will understand, I am sure, why I cannot send you the lesson just now.
Feeling comforted because I know you will be praying
with me,
Your friend,
John Saxon
Mary Elizabeth read the letter through twice that she might not miss anything. Then she put it in her lap and sat looking off at the sea, but seeing a little house in a Florida grove and a man carrying a heavy burden of sorrow and doing everything alone.
No, he wasn’t alone, either! There was God! His God!
Mary Elizabeth wished she knew God. How she would pray!
But not knowing God, what was there else that she could do? John Saxon had not yet had her letter when he wrote this one to Sam. It might not reach him till today. If he had to go to the post office for it, he might not get it even then. He had not asked her to pray. Perhaps he suspected she did not know how. And anyhow, until he got her letter, he would not know whether he had the right to call upon her. His letter to her had made it plain that he was not counting on her now that he knew who she was.
But, oh, there must be some way she could help! Doctors and nurses were what he needed! Money could bring them to him in a few hours by airplane! Perhaps he would not like her to help that way, but one could not stop on a matter of that sort when a life was at stake! She sat several minutes thinking rapid thoughts, making quick plans, unhampered by any question of cost. Then she got up and tiptoed upstairs to Sam’s door, intending to tap and ask him to come out, but when she reached the door she found he had banged it so hard after him that it had not latched and had sprung back again. It was open several inches, and she could see Sam kneeling beside his bed, burrowing his nose into the pillow and praying in a half-audible murmur. He evidently thought himself shut in alone with God.
“Oh, God! You promised! Anybody who abides could ask what he would and You’d do it. Mr. Saxon does that. You know he does! I’m not much at it, but I’m reminding You of Your promise. Do it for him, won’t You? Make his mother well! And You said if we ask in Christ’s name, You would do it for His sake! I’m reminding You! I’m not much good to You myself. I snitched those bottles and threw out that stuff. I hated those folks, too! But do it for Christ’s sake, please!”
The pleading voice was smothered in the pillows again, and Mary Elizabeth tiptoed away to her own room with a mistiness in her eyes.
She sat a long time listening to the stillness in the house and thinking out a plan that had come to her with breathtaking vividness. Dared she?
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, thinking out the detai
ls, weighing the possibilities. Perhaps he would not like her to meddle. Perhaps the plan was on too large a scale. And yet, if God were going to answer that prayer, He would have to do it through some individual, wouldn’t He? But she! She was in a rather awkward position. It might hurt John Saxon unnecessarily, as if she were flaunting her wealth and influence. Could it be done without her? She turned the question this way and that, all the time feeling more and more that the time was short and knowing that somehow she was going to do it. And then she thought of the boy, and after a moment called him softly.
There was silence for a moment, and then she heard a stirring, and presently he came in the dusk of the hall and stood by her door.
“Did you call, Mary Beth?” he asked in a subdued tone.
“Yes, Buddie! I’ve been thinking. How would you like to help answer those prayers?”
“Oh, boyyy!” came the answer in a long-drawn-out, wistful voice.
“Come here and sit down.” She drew a low hassock near the window, and he came and sat in the shadow, but his whole attitude was eagerness.
“I think we ought to get a doctor and a nurse down there just as quickly as possible, don’t you?”
“Sure! But how could we?”
She was still a minute, and then she said, “Sam, if you had a lot of money, what would you do with it?”
“Why, take a doctor and a nurse down there in an airplane,” answered the boy, without an instant’s hesitation.
“Exactly!” said Mary Elizabeth with a quick breath of satisfaction. “Well, I’m going to give you the money. He wouldn’t probably take it from me. I’m rather a stranger, you know, but if you did it, that would be different. You could say when it came to the questioning that you had some money that you were free to use, see?”
“I see! Oh, gee! Mary Beth, you’re a peacherine! Oh, gee!”
“Well, Buddie, we’ve got to work fast! Sickness doesn’t wait on time. The first thing is to get the right doctor. I don’t suppose you know who that doctor was that he mentions, do you?”
“Sure I do!” said Sam, on the alert at once. “He told us a lot about him down at camp. Told about his operations and all that, and how he had learned more from him than any other teacher in medical college. His name is MacKelvie, Martin MacKelvie. But the college would be closed now; it’s vacation time.”
“Still, it oughtn’t to be so hard to trace him, if he hasn’t gone abroad. That’s a rather unusual name.”
Mary Elizabeth was writing the name on a pad from her bedside table.
“Now, Bud, do you know the directions for getting there? Were you ever at Mr. Saxon’s house?”
“Sure thing,” said Sam eagerly, “so was Jeff! He stayed down and worked with Mr. Saxon after camp a lot.”
“Well, write out the directions and everything you know while I go telephone New York.”
Mary Elizabeth hurried down to the telephone booth and did some pretty good detective work for the next half hour. She was rewarded by discovering that Dr. Martin MacKelvie was at his summer cottage on Lake George. A little more clever work, assisted ably by the telephone operator, and Dr. Martin MacKelvie was on the wire.
Sam was just outside the booth listening, his heart in his eyes, and Mary Elizabeth would perhaps never feel a thrill more triumphant than when the doctor’s vibrant voice spoke: “Dr. MacKelvie speaking.”
Mary Elizabeth caught her breath and tried to steady her voice.
“Dr. MacKelvie, I’m a friend of John Saxon, who once was in your class at medical college. Do you remember him?”
“I certainly do!” came the ringing answer. “One of the best men I ever had the honor of instructing.”
Mary Elizabeth drew another breath tinged with relief and went on eagerly.
“John Saxon’s mother is very critically ill in Florida. He feels that you could save her life. We’re taking you and a nurse down in an airplane tonight if you’ll go, and we’ll gladly pay whatever fee you ask. Will you go?”
“What’s the matter with her?” came the crisp, keen question.
“We don’t know. He spoke of an operation he had seen you perform. That’s all we know about it. He is out in the country on his own, and the best doctors have all gone north. He said there was no one near whom he could trust.”
“Yes, I’ll go!” came the answer after an instant’s deliberation. “If John Saxon wants me, I’ll have to go, but I won’t charge him a cent.”
“That’s all right, Doctor,” said Mary Elizabeth with a ring in her voice. “We want to pay it for him.”
“We’ll talk about that later. How soon do we start, and where do I meet you?”
“As soon as we can get a plane. I’ll telephone at once and make arrangements. Wouldn’t it be better for the plane to pick you up? Where shall I tell them to come?”
A few minutes more of careful directions, telephone numbers exchanged, and the matter was arranged.
“Will you get a nurse, or shall I?” she asked.
“I’ll look after that! I’ll be ready inside of an hour. Let me know if you can’t secure a plane, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Oh, I’ll get a plane,” said Mary Elizabeth with a lilt in her voice. “I know a pilot in New York. I’ll call you again as soon as I get him.”
“Oh, boy!” said Sam softly, out in the hall. Then he tiptoed into the dining room and suppressed the dinner bell that Susan was about to ring, while Mary Elizabeth called up the flying field. Now, if her man was only there!
Fifteen minutes later she came out of the telephone booth triumphant.
“He says he’ll go. He gave orders to have his plane ready inside half an hour. I heard him. Now, Sam, we’ve got to work fast. I’ll have to call Dad and Uncle. Do you want to go? Will Uncle Robert stand for it?”
“Do I wantta go?” echoed the boy. “Do I wantta go? But I don’t know about Dad. Do we havta tell him?”
“Yes, we have to tell him, Buddie. I couldn’t take that responsibility. Perhaps we’d better get it over with before we eat.”
So Mary Elizabeth went into the booth again and called her home, getting her father on the wire.
“Dad, I’m taking a doctor and a nurse in an airplane down to Florida tonight to a very sick friend. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Why can’t the doctor and nurse go by themselves?” asked her father.
“Because they can’t! There are circumstances that make it impossible. The sick friend is poor and might not accept the help if I didn’t go and engineer it. Dad, I haven’t time to explain. It’s a matter of life and death and I must go. The woman will die! I’ll write you all about it.”
“Whose plane are you going in?”
“Cousin Richie Wainwright’s.”
“Oh, well, that’s different. Why didn’t you tell me that before? All right, but wire me the minute you land?”
“Yes, Dad. And Dad, I’d like to take Sam. Do you think Uncle would mind? He’s crazy to go.”
“Well, ask him. I don’t know what he’ll say. You say there’s a nurse going along? And who’s your doctor?”
Mary Elizabeth answered his questions and then called her uncle.
“Uncle Robert, I want to ask you something very particular. I hope you’ll say yes. I’m taking a doctor and nurse down to Florida to a sick friend tonight. Cousin Richie is taking us in his big plane. I’d like to take Sam with me for company, if you are willing. He’s just crazy to go.”
Sam held his breath for the answer as he stood by the open door of the booth and waited for his father to consider. After a moment’s hesitation he answered, “Why, yes, I guess he can go, Mary Beth. A boy loves that sort of thing, I know. But Mary Beth, tell him if he wants to write to his mother—she’s in the mountains, you know—tell him to address his letter all right and then send it to me to mail. She’s rather shy about airplanes you know, and there’s no need to stir her up. And Mary Beth, wire me when you get there. Let me speak to Sam a minute!”
; Sam, with a trembling hand, took the receiver and spoke in a serious grown-up voice.
“Yes sir?”
His father gave him a few general directions, bade him take care of his cousin and do just as she told him. He answered, “Yes sir!” “Yes sir!” “Yes sir!” in that grave, awed tone, and the matter was settled.
They hurried through their dinner, packed their suitcases, and drove to the nearest airport to await Cousin Richie and his plane. After arranging about the care of the car during their absence, they sat in it and talked in low tones, Sam going back over John Saxon’s stories about his wonderful doctor-teacher and friend, and Mary Elizabeth listening eagerly.
The moon rose and touched the airstrip with a silver sheen, filling the heavens with glory, and Sam sat quietly looking up into the sky, trying to realize that in a few minutes now he would be sailing along above in that sea of silver.
And at last, sooner than they had dared to hope, they saw the lights and heard the humming of the great bird that was to carry them away on their errand of mercy. As Mary Elizabeth sat there watching it arrive, she marveled that the intricate arrangements for this journey had been made so quickly and so easily. There were a thousand and one little things that might have happened to spoil it all. The doctor might not have been found, he might not have been willing to go, Sam might not have remembered his name. Some other doctor might have been difficult in more senses than one and might not have been acceptable. It was just a miracle that all had worked out as it had. That was it, a miracle, an answer to prayer! Then there were such things as answers to prayer! She would never again doubt that.
Mary Elizabeth liked the doctor’s face at once, and the nurse was a quiet elderly woman, who, it developed, often went with the doctor when he was called to very critical cases. She had a gentleness and tenderness, and strength and firmness written in her face, and the very look in her gray eyes gave Mary Elizabeth confidence.
The doctor asked a few questions, some of which Sam had to answer because he knew more about John Saxon’s affairs than any of them. Then, at the doctor’s advice, they settled down to rest.