Read The Strange Proposal Page 24


  “Oh, but don’t you know, you’re just going to travel in your nightie, so that needn’t bother you at all,” laughed Mary Elizabeth.

  “In my what?” exclaimed Mother Saxon in horror.

  Then appeared John on the scene.

  “Mother, you see, it’s this way. You’ve got to go very quietly. You’ve been too sick for us to risk any excitement. So we’re just going to carry you over across the road and put you in a nice bed, in an airplane. You know you’ve always wished you could ride in one, and now you’ve got your wish!”

  “An airplane! Oh, John! And how much will that cost? Just because you are selling the orange grove for more than we expected, don’t go and get extravagant. I can perfectly well go on the train. I couldn’t think of letting you pay a lot for an airplane.”

  “But it isn’t costing anything, Mother!” assured John, with a lot of joy in his eyes and a more rested look than Mary Elizabeth had seen on his face since they came down. “Mary Elizabeth’s cousin Richie is taking us all back in his plane that he brought the doctor and nurse and Sam and Mary Elizabeth down in. Isn’t that nice? Now, will you tell us, please, just what you want to keep of the furniture in the house? Sam and I are going to pack whatever you want to keep this afternoon. We’ll go away and leave you awhile and let you think about it, but you mustn’t get excited.”

  “Excited!” said Mother Saxon. “I guess I have a right to be excited over all that! But can’t you wait till I’m up before you pack?”

  “No, we can’t! We’ve got to get out of the house! Is there much you want besides the pictures, and the chests and trunks in the attic? I’ll send everybody else out and sit down beside you now with a pencil and write down all you think of, and then you must go to sleep. Those are the doctor’s orders.”

  “There isn’t much, dear. Our personal things. The curtains, perhaps?”

  “Leave the curtains,” advised John. “You can get new ones when you have a new home. It will make the house look more homelike to leave them.”

  “Why, of course!” said Mother, relaxing with a smile. “It’s a little bit like going to live in heaven, isn’t it? You won’t need the things you leave behind, because you’ll have better ones.”

  John stopped and kissed his mother, with a breath of thanksgiving in his heart that she was not leaving them for heaven yet, and then went back to his list.

  In ten minutes he came out, and Mary Elizabeth went in and wafted a big palm-leaf fan till the sweet old invalid dropped off to sleep.

  John went through the house, picking out the things that had to be kept. He realized that now he had hopes of getting his family into the safety of a cooler world, nothing else seemed to matter. The actual packing was not arduous. He produced two big boxes from the little shanty that was dignified by the name of garage, and he and Sam stowed away books and pictures, and the few little precious trifles that are found in every home.

  Cousin Richie borrowed John’s car and went to make arrangements with Eric Tanner, saying as he left that he would arrange to leave the Saxon belongings stored in the attic until fall, when they would know where to have them sent. Things were assuming quickly the attitude of departure.

  The doctor came and went with a light of satisfaction on his face. He had saved another life, and that was better to him than anything else in the world. He watched his patient carefully without seeming to do so. He stepped in several times during the afternoon, watched her breathing, listened to her heart, touched her pulse lightly, and slipped out again with almost a grin on his rugged face.

  The nurse was washing out garments and hanging them to dry in the backyard. The doctor came to her.

  “I believe it’s done her good to be told. Her pulse is as strong and steady as I’ve seen it.” There was a ring of triumph in his voice.

  “Perhaps!” said the nurse doubtfully.

  “Perhaps, nothing of the kind,” muttered the doctor. “The sooner she’s out of this heat the better.”

  So the work went steadily, quietly on. In the sickroom, Mary Elizabeth, cautiously opening drawers and folding garments and sorting them in neat piles, was selecting the things that would be needed by Mrs. Saxon on the way.

  Night came on and found things well on the way to readiness for the journey.

  Mary Elizabeth went over to the plane for the night and looked up at the velvet star-studded sky, thinking how things had worked out even in the very small details so that there seemed to be nothing to worry about anywhere. She wondered if God would always do that with troublesome details; if she would trust them absolutely to Him.

  But out on the highway, Boothby Farwell was speeding along in the blackness of night, turning over in his mind his well-laid plans to ship that impertinent kid, Sam Wainwright, home to his mother on the first train, and kidnap Mary Elizabeth! He had hoped to make his destination by that afternoon, but in some unaccountable way he had got off the highway and had to go miles to get back again. He must stop at the next possible resting place and wait till morning. He was almost out of gas, dog-weary, and terribly thirsty. But in the morning he would start early and arrive in time to get the kid off on the night train. Then Mary Elizabeth would find out whether it was worthwhile to trifle with him or not!

  But unfortunately for his plans, someone had left a lot of broken glass in the way, and Farwell was not driving carefully through the night. The result was that he was laid up for several hours waiting for his car to be put in running order again, and thus it was the morning of the second day before he reached the village for which he was aiming. Still, he felt reasonably sure that his prey would not escape. How could they get by him? This was the only highway, wasn’t it?

  Chapter 26

  A great deal was accomplished the next morning at the bungalow before the invalid awoke, and during the day Mary Elizabeth and Nurse Noble did their best to keep her quietly interested in getting together such of her own garments as she wanted to take with her. When Mary Elizabeth felt Mother Saxon was getting a little weary, she would tell her about the sea and the whispering pines, and gently sing her to sleep.

  It was planned that they should leave the next morning as early as possible, and Cousin Richie had spent time on his plane, getting it in perfect order for the start. John had errands here and there preparatory to leaving. Then toward night, Eric Tanner arrived and had to be introduced to the needs of the grove. There really hadn’t been any too much time anywhere since the decision had been made to start, and Mary Elizabeth had been busy, too, for there were telegrams to send to Father, and Uncle, and the Bateman caretakers, to be sure that there were supplies in the house and a meal ready to serve almost any time.

  It was with great eagerness that she got up the next morning and dressed in her last clean white dress, ready to leave. They didn’t even have to wash the breakfast dishes, Mr. Tanner had said, for he would do them. Though they did wash them. Nurse Noble wouldn’t hear of anything else.

  And indeed there was time enough, for at the last minute a man came to buy John’s old jalopy, and Eric Tanner offered to give a little more than the other man, and John had to do some dickering between them.

  Then, just before they were to take Mrs. Saxon out to the plane, the doctor discovered that his bottle of rubbing alcohol was empty, having been upset by somebody’s carelessness when the cork was out. Also, one or two other things needed replacing from the drugstore. Sam eagerly offered to go for them on John’s old bicycle, the car obviously being otherwise occupied at that moment, and so there was a short breathing space in which everybody went around being sure that nobody had left anything.

  Sam was glad to have an outlet for his excitement. He bent low over the handlebars of the bicycle and rattled along over the resonant boardwalk, the little scared lizards whisking along before him and darting beneath the boards whenever he got too near. The sun beamed down hotly, and the perspiration streamed down Sam’s face, but he wore a broad grin of satisfaction, and he could scarcely restrain himself.
Sometimes he whistled, and sometimes he sang.

  “Everything’s all right in my Father’s house …

  There’ll be joy, joy, joy all the while!”

  But when he approached the sleepy little hamlet and drew near to the store, he sobered down and put on a grown-up air. He leaned his wheel against the building and sauntered in casually, in the regular boy way. No one would have dreamed he was in a terrible hurry or that anything exciting was going on that morning.

  He handed over the doctor’s prescription and the bottles that were to be filled and sauntered back to the end of the counter, examining the dusty articles on display.

  The sound of an automobile horn drew his attention, and a great car flashed up, brilliant with chrome, a car with a familiar look about it. Sam turned and squinted at it carefully. He even came forward a step or two to make sure.

  “Good night!” he said softly to himself. “If that poor fish hasn’t butted in again!”

  He stood there in consternation and watched the man get out of his car and come toward the drugstore. Yes, it was Farwell, no mistake about it!

  Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and ducked quickly behind the counter, out of sight, keeping both eyes and ears open to developments.

  “Is there a man named Saxon living around this neighborhood?” asked Farwell in his condescending tone.

  “Yep!” snapped the clerk, clipping off the string that tied Sam’s alcohol bottle. “Lives about five and a half miles west of here, up the first road to the right, turn at the crossroads. You can’t miss it!”

  “Thanks! That sounds easy! Have you got anything to drink?”

  The clerk named the various drinks as he sauntered back to Sam with his bundles.

  “By the way, are there any people visiting these Saxons? A young woman and a red-haired kid?”

  The clerk gave a quick, startled look at Sam, met a deadly wink that only Sam’s eye knew how to give, and sauntered back slowly, answering, “Couldn’t say. There might be, and there might not be. You’d havta go and see.” Slowly he went at the work of preparing the drink and looked back where Sam had been standing. But Sam had made good his escape, out the back door.

  Good night! thought Sam again. I can’t get out there ahead of him on this bike. I gotta do something! If he gets there before we get started, he’ll gum the works entirely! Good night!

  He gave a quick look at the big blue car with its silver trim, took in its direction from the window by the soda counter, and ventured forth furtively.

  Darting out into the road opposite the car, he stooped down, his bicycle leaning against his back as if he were doing something to its pedals, and reaching out a quick hand back of him, he turned a tiny cap on the rear tire of the big blue car. A soft whistling sound ensued. Sam slid a length to the front wheel and did the same thing to that. Then with a furtive glance toward the drugstore window, noting that the enemy was still standing with his back to the window, sipping his drink in a leisurely way, Sam slid his wheel around behind the car and doctored the other two tires, in spite of having to struggle with one cap that resisted.

  He caught up his own wheel then and whirled out of sight, taking a shortcut through the woods, which, though bad for bicycling, would at least hide him from immediate view.

  Sometimes he had to jump down and run beside his bicycle to make any time at all, until he came into the road again and could take the rickety boardwalk. Then he raced along madly. How long would it take for that dumb fish to find a garage and get his tires pumped up again? Could he make it to the house and get the folks to start at once?

  The alcohol bottle, in its thin paper wrapping, bumped around in the wire basket that was fastened to the front of the wheel. He must look out. If he broke the bottle, there would be more delay.

  The last half mile he was puffing like a porpoise, and he looked like anything but a neat boy prepared to go on a journey.

  Sam arrived just as they were carrying Mrs. Saxon across from the house on a mattress. John was carrying the head, Cousin Richie the foot, the nurse and Mary Elizabeth on either side.

  Sam held his breath till they had lifted her up and carried her into the plane. Then he slid the old bicycle into its place in the garage and came on the run to help Mr. Saxon, who was trying to get along by himself to save trouble.

  As he upheld Father Saxon he cast a furtive glance down the road, looking for a flashy blue car with silver edges, but all was quiet and empty on the highway so far.

  “Is there anything else in the house to go?” he asked Cousin Richie when he had seated his passenger comfortably. “There’s some poor fish down at the village on his way to find Mary Beth, and I happen ta know she don’t want him. Can’t ya get started before he gets here?”

  Cousin Richie cast a speculative eye at Sam, a keen glance at Mary Elizabeth, who was smiling down and giving some direction to John, and then said, “Sure thing, son. Run after John and help him bring the rest of the things. There aren’t many, and I’ll get the engine ready.”

  Sam scuttled off, his eye down the road again.

  Three minutes more and they were back with the last load, and nobody in sight yet. John was lingering to say a few last words to Eric Tanner. Would he never be done?

  At last they were off. Sam felt the smooth vibration of the engine, the slow movement that seemed to be scarcely motion at all, for the ride was to be a quiet one, not to excite the invalid. And now at last they were rising, a little, and a little, and now the ground was really quite far below them. Sam drew a deep breath.

  Then, looking down the road from the height that gave him a better view, he saw a great blue car flash into view, its shining trim casting sharp brightness in the sun. Sam looked down and grinned.

  He cast one more look at the ground, measured the possibilities of turning around and going back again for callers and decided they were nil, then he slid over to Mary Elizabeth’s side, pointing down.

  “There goes that poor fish of a Farwell, coming to call. Do you wantta go back and entertain him?” he said into her ear.

  Mary Elizabeth gave a quick glance back and saw the bright car slowing down before the bungalow, saw Eric Tanner coming out to meet it, and a look of amazement grew upon her face. It couldn’t be that Boothby had found out where she was and had dared to follow so far! It must be another car, like his, of course.

  “What makes you think that is Mr. Farwell, Sam?” she asked.

  “Because I saw him down at the village when I went after the alcohol. He was getting a drink and asking the way out here! He wanted to know if the Saxons had company, a girl and a red-haired boy!”

  Sam’s face and voice expressed the scorn and disgust he did not put into words.

  “But I don’t understand,” said Mary Elizabeth. “Why didn’t he get here before you did? It’s a long way into the village, and you had only a bicycle!”

  “Sure, I fixed him so he couldn’t. I let the air out of his tires!”

  “Sam! You didn’t! Not really?”

  “Sure I did! I wasn’t going to have the poor dumb fish coming here, gumming things all up just as we were getting off.”

  Suddenly Mary Elizabeth put her head down and laughed and laughed. Then she said, “Sam, there are a great many things I have to thank you for, and this is not the least of them. Oh, Sam, Sam, for a person who knows as much about the Bible as you do, you certainly are the limit!”

  Then Mary Elizabeth’s eyes turned and rested with great tenderness on John Saxon, who was bending over his mother, smiling and holding her hand, helping her through the first startling idea of riding in the air.

  The great bird lifted and soared aloft, smoothly, evenly, and suddenly the young man who had come out seeking a wild free thing, to bind and bend it to his will, found that his bird had flown away, and wildly he lifted a futile shout and raised his hand in a gesture of command. Then he ran with all his might forward toward where the plane had been, dashing into the deep untrodden sand without looking
where he stepped, and wallowed along, screaming and shaking his fist up toward the vanishing plane. Suddenly his head and shoulders were going faster than his feet could get there, and the inevitable happened. Boothby Farwell went down ignominiously in the sand and literally bit the dust, sand in his eyes and sand in his ears and sand in his mouth, a sorry figure, stunned, and blinded, and so angry he was stupefied for the instant.

  And the girl he was chasing did not even see him. She had eyes for only one man, and he was up in the air with her.

  Only Sam saw the downfall of his enemy and sat grinning with all his might and finally laughing aloud in a great boy roar, but the engine drowned the sound, and nobody was the wiser.

  Chapter 27

  The great plane came to earth on the smooth, broad beach almost exactly in front of the Wainwright summer estate, taxiing over the hard white sand as lightly as over a marble floor, and the invalid who had been greatly intrigued and unexpectedly invigorated by her flight scarcely knew she had lit upon earth yet.

  Almost at once, there appeared around the plane, Mary Elizabeth’s father, Sam’s father, Frank Bateman wheeling a gurney, and Susan Bateman, her hands wrapped in a neat white apron, standing respectfully in the background. It had the air of an occasion, almost of a celebration, and Mary Elizabeth’s eyes shone with satisfaction as she looked upon the group. Not one of them was missing! Dad had been equal to the occasion, as she knew he would be, as he always had been since she could remember, and Uncle Robert Wainwright was right behind him. They were great brothers, those two, of the House of Wainwright, and Mary Elizabeth was proud of them.

  Then her glance went to John Saxon, who had suddenly straightened up from assuring his mother they had landed, and was taking in the situation. His face was tense with a dawning comprehension of what all this might mean, suffused suddenly with deep embarrassment and then a quick misty realization of the kindness that had prompted it all.