CHAPTER XIX
IN THE MORNING
"By George, Carson, what do you think's happened now?"
Richard Kendrick had come into the store's little office like athunderbolt.
"Well, Mr. Kendrick?"
"Benson's down with typhoid. Came back with it from the trip to Chicago.What do you think of that?"
"I thought he was looking a little seedy before he went. Well, well,that's too bad. Right in the May trade, too. Is he pretty sick?"
"So the doctor says. He's been keeping up on that trip when he ought tohave been in bed. He's in bed now, all right. I took him in with a nurseto the City Hospital on the 10:40 Limited; stretcher in thebaggage-car."
"Don't see where he got typhoid around here at this time of year," musedCarson.
"Nobody sees, but that doesn't matter. He has it, and it's up to us topull him through--and to get along without him."
They sat down to talk it over. While they were at it the telephone cameinto the discussion with a summons of Richard to a long-distanceconnection. To his amazement, when communication was established betweenhimself and his distant interlocutor, clear and vibrant came to him overthe wire a voice he had dreamed of but had not heard for four months:
"Mr. Kendrick?"
"Yes. Is it--it isn't--"
"This is Miss Gray. Mr. Kendrick, your grandfather wants you very much,at our home. He has had an accident."
"An accident? What sort of an accident? Is he much hurt, Miss Gray?"
"We can't tell yet. He fell down the porch steps; he had been calling onUncle Calvin. He--is quite helpless, but the doctor thinks there are nobones broken. Doctor Thomas wouldn't allow Mr. Kendrick to be moved, sowe have him here with a nurse. He is very anxious to see you."
"I'll be there as soon as I can get there in the car. I think I can makeit quicker than by train at this hour. Thank you for calling me, MissGray. Please--give my love to grandfather and tell him I'm coming."
"I will, Mr. Kendrick. I--we are all--so sorry. Good-bye."
Richard turned back to Carson with an anxious face. The manager was onhis feet, concern in his manner.
"Something happened to old Mr. Kendrick, Mr. Richard?"
"A fall--can't move--wants me right away. It never rains but it pours,Carson--even in May. I thought Benson's illness was the worst thing thatcould happen to us, but this is worse yet. I'll have to leave everythingto you to settle while I run down to the old gentleman. A fall,Carson--isn't that likely to be pretty serious at his age?"
"Depends on what caused it, I should say," Carson answered cautiously."If it was any kind of shock--"
"Oh--it can't be that!" Richard Kendrick's voice showed his alarm at thethought. "Grandfather's been such an active old chap--no superfluousfat--he's not at all a high liver--takes his cold plunge just as healways has. It can't be that! But I'm off to see. Good-bye, Carson. I'll'phone you when I know the situation. Meanwhile--wish grandfather safelyout of it, will you?"
"Of course I will; I think a great deal of Mr. Kendrick. Good-bye--anddon't worry about things here." Carson wrung his employer's hand, thenwent out with him to the curb, where the car stood, and saw him off. "Hereally cares," he was thinking. "Nobody could fake that anxiety. Hedoesn't want the old man to die--and he's his heir--to millions. Well,I like him better than ever for it. I believe if I got typhoid he'dpersonally carry me to the hospital or do any other thing that came intohis head. Well, now it's for me to find a competent salesman for thisMay sale that's on with such a rush. It's going to be hard to managewithout Benson."
The long, low car had never made faster time to the city, and it was inthe early dusk that it came to a standstill before the porch of the Grayhome. Doors and windows were wide open, lights gleamed everywhere, butthe house was very quiet. The car had stolen up as silently as a car offine workmanship may in these days of motor perfection, but it had beenheard, and Mrs. Robert Gray came out to meet Richard before he couldring.
"My dear Mr. Richard," she said, pressing his hand, her face very graveand sweet, "you have come quickly. I am glad, for we are anxious. Yourgrandfather has dropped into a strange, drowsy state, from which itseems impossible to rouse him. But I hope you may be able to do so. Hehas wanted you from the first moment."
"Tell me which way to go," cried Richard, under his breath. "Is heupstairs?"
She kept her hold upon his hand, and he gripped it tight as she led himup the stairs. It was as if he felt a mother's clasp for the first timesince his babyhood and could not let it go.
"In here," she indicated softly, and the young man went in, his headbent, his lips set.
* * * * *
Two hours afterward he came out. She was waiting for him, though it wasmidnight. Louis and Stephen were waiting, too, and they in turn graspedhis hand, their faces pitiful for the keen grief they saw in his. ThenMrs. Gray took him down to the porch, where the warm May night foldedthem softly about. She sat down beside him on a wide settle.
"He is all I have in the world!" cried Richard Kendrick. "If he goes--"He could not say more, and, turning, put his arms down upon the back ofthe seat and his head upon them. Great, tearless sobs shook him. Mrs.Gray laid her kind hand upon his shoulder, and spoke gentle, motherlywords--a few words, not many--and kept her hand there until he hadhimself under control again.
By and by Mrs. Stephen Gray came out with a little tray upon which wasset forth a simple lunch, daintily served. The young man tried to eat,to show her how much this touched him, but succeeded in swallowing onlya portion of the delicate food. Then he got up. "You are all so good,"said he gratefully. "You have helped me more than I can tell you. I willgo back now. I want to stay with him to-night, if you will allow me."
They gave him a room across the hall from that in which his grandfatherlay, but he did not occupy it. All night he sat, a silent figure on theopposite side of the bed from that where the nurse was on guard. Hisgrandfather's regular physician was in attendance the greater part ofthe night at his request, though there seemed nothing to do but awaitthe issue. Another distinguished member of the profession had seen thecase in consultation early in the evening, and the two had foundthemselves unable between them to discover a remote possibility of hope.
In the early morning the watcher stole downstairs, feeling as if he mustfor at least a few moments get into the outer world. His eyes were heavywith his vigil, yet there was no sleep behind them, and he could notbear to be long away lest a change come suddenly. The old man had notroused when he had first spoken to him, and the nurse had said that hislast conscious words had been a call for his grandson. Goaded by thisthought, Richard turned back before he had so much as reached the footof the garden, where he had thought he should spend at least a quarterof an hour.
As he came in at the door he was met by Roberta, cool and fresh in blue.It was but five in the morning; surely she did not commonly rise at thishour, even in May. The thought made his heart leap. She came straight tohim and put both hands in his, saying in her friendly, low voice: "Mr.Kendrick, I'm sorry--sorry!"
He looked long and hungrily into her face, holding her hands with such afierce grasp that he hurt her cruelly, though she made no sign. He didnot even thank her--only held her until every detail of her face hadbeen studied. She let him do it, and only dropped her eyes and stoodcolouring warmly under the inquisition. It was as if she understood thatthe sight of her was a moment's sedative for an aching heart, and shemust yield it or be more unkind than it was in the heart of woman to be.When he released her it was with a sigh that came up from the depths,and as she left him he stood and watched her until she was out of sight.
* * * * *
When Matthew Kendrick opened his eyes at ten o'clock on the morningafter his fall the first thing they rested upon was the face he lovedbest in the world. It came instantly nearer, the eyes meeting hisimploringly, as if begging him to speak. So with some little effort hedid speak. "Well, Dick," he said slowly
, "I'm glad you came, boy. Iwanted you; I didn't know but I was about getting through. But--Ibelieve I'm still here, after all."
Then he saw a strange sight. Great tears leaped into the eyes he waslooking at, tears that rolled unheeded down the fresh-coloured cheeks ofhis boy. Richard tried to speak, but could not. He could only gentlygrasp his grandfather's hand and press it tightly in both his own.
"I feel pretty well battered up," the old man continued, his voicegrowing stronger, "but I think I can move a little." He stirred slightlyunder his blanket, a fact the nurse noted with joyful intentness. "So Ithink I'm all here. Are you so glad, Dick, that you can cry about it?"
The smile came then upon his grandson's lighting face. "Glad,grandfather?" said he, with some difficulty. "Why, you're all I have inthe world! I shouldn't know how to face it without you."
The old man dropped off to sleep again, his hand contentedly resting inhis grandson's. Presently the doctor looked in, studied the situation insilence, held a minute's whispered colloquy with the nurse, then movedto Richard's side. The young man looked up at him and he nodded. He bentto Richard's ear.
"Things look different," he whispered succinctly. At the slightsibilance of the whisper the old man opened his eyes again. His glancetravelled up the distinguished physician's body to his face. He smiledin quite his own whimsical way.
"Fooled even a noted person like you, did I, Winston?" he chuckledfeebly. "Just because I chose to go to sleep and didn't fidget roundmuch you thought I'd got my quietus, did you?"
"I think you're a pretty vigorous personality," responded the physician,"and I'm quite willing to be fooled by you. Now I want you to take alittle nourishment and go to sleep again. If you think so much of thisyoung man of yours you can have him again in an hour, but I'm going tosend him away now. You see, he's been sitting right there all night."
Matthew Kendrick's eyes rested fondly again upon Richard's smiling face."You rascal!" he sighed. "You always did give me trouble about being upo' nights!"
* * * * *
Richard Kendrick ran downstairs three steps at a bound. At the bottom hemet Judge Calvin Gray. He seized the hand of his grandfather's old-timefriend and wrung it. The expression of heavy sadness on the Judge's facechanged to one of bewilderment, and as he scanned the radiantcountenance of Matthew Kendrick's grandson he turned suddenly pale withjoy.
"You don't mean--"
Then he comprehended that Richard was finding it as hard to speak goodnews as if it had been bad. But in an instant the young man was incommand of himself again.
"It wasn't apoplexy--it wasn't paralysis--it was only the shock of thefall and the bruises. He's been talking to me; he's been twitting thedoctor on having been fooled. Oh, he's as alive as possible, andI--Judge Gray, I never was so happy in my life!"
With congratulations in his heart for his old friend on the possessionof this young love which was as genuine as it was strong, the Judgesaid: "Well, my dear fellow, let us thank God and breathe again. Thishas been the darkest night I've spent in many a year--and this is thebrightest morning."
Everybody in the house was presently rejoicing in the news. But ifRichard expected Roberta to be as generous with him in his joy as shehad been in his grief he found himself disappointed. She did not failto express to him her sympathy with his relief, but she did it withreinforcements of her family at hand, and with Ruth's arm about herwaist. She had trusted him when torn with anxiety; clearly she did nottrust him now in the reaction from that anxiety. He was in wild spirits,no doubt of that; she could see it in his brilliant eyes.
It still lacked six weeks of Midsummer.