“Well, you have now,” said Elise, reaching out impulsively and squeezing Janice’s hand. “It’s going to be nice. I’m glad.”
The two girls parted happily, and Janice hurried home eagerly.
“Mother, what do you think?” she cried as she burst into the house. “Elise Walton ran after me and asked me to help her with her algebra, and she wants to be friends. Do you suppose her brother made her do that? She was really pleasant and lovely about it, as if she meant it.”
“Then I wouldn’t question it, dear,” said her mother, looking up wearily from her sewing. “Did you like her?”
“Oh, she was lovely,” said Janice. “And Mother, she isn’t the least bit snobbish. She and her mother are going to paper a room this afternoon. She says her mother used to do it when she was first married. I was telling her about putting on ceilings, how careful you had to be.”
Mrs. Halsey looked surprised.
“Are they really as hard pressed as that, I wonder?” she said. “I’ve heard Mr. Walton has been most honorable about giving up his property, but I did not suppose it would really bring them down to doing such things for themselves. It must be very hard for them.”
Then after a moment of thought—“I wonder if they have a roller to make the seams smooth? Suppose you take ours with you and go around that way when you take Mrs. Graves’s night dresses home. It certainly would be easier for them to have one, and if they own one, it can’t do any harm to offer a little neighborliness.”
So Janice hunted up the roller they used in their paperhanging and started joyously on her errand.
Elise found her mother up in the room they were to paper, wearing an old dress, with her sleeves rolled up and a pretty good imitation of scaffolding rigged up with the ironing board, the kitchen table, and two chairs. She had just finished cutting the last length of ceiling paper as Elise burst into the room.
“Mother! Where are you? You haven’t broken your promise and begun, have you? Oh, Mother! You carried up that kitchen table all by yourself!” she cried.
“No, I didn’t. Chris ran home a little while ago to get his overcoat instead of his sweater. The store is sending him in town on an errand, and he was afraid he would be cold. He brought the table up for me. And go look in my room and see what a nice pasting table I’ve got fixed up, with the two cutting tables and some boards I found in the cellar. No, I didn’t carry them up either. I got that little Jimmy next door to bring them for me when he came home at noon, and I gave him ten cents and a big red apple to pay for doing it. Hurry up and let’s get at this. The paste is all ready.”
While Elise changed into an old dress, she talked.
“Well, Mother dear, I scraped up a friendship with the sister of Chris’s girl,” she announced as she slipped out of her pretty school dress.
“Oh, my dear! I don’t know that I would call anyone Chris’s girl on so slight a foundation. Surely if she meant anything special to Chris, he would say something about it to your father and me.”
“I wonder!” said Elise, meditatively.
“I’m quite sure he would,” said the mother, as if she wished to convince herself.
“Well, anyhow, I liked her a lot, the sister I mean,” said Elise. “I guess she’s been lonely. She didn’t say so, but she seemed very glad that I wanted to be friends.”
“Is she—refined, dear? I don’t mean, of course, that we should despise her if she isn’t—but—well, you know what I mean. I wouldn’t like Chris to be interested in bold, forward girls—or coarse ones.”
“She’s not any of those things, Mother. Really, she’s nice. I’m sure you would call her refined. She has a low, sweet voice and a way of looking straight at you, quietly, and waiting for you to speak, instead of rushing in as if she knew it all.”
“Well, that sounds good. But you don’t know about the other sister, do you? This one is the youngest. The other may be different.”
“Yes, I found out about the other one. I don’t suppose you’ll like it, but—well—she works in the grocery store!”
The mother turned around and faced her daughter, an anxious, thoughtful look upon her face. “You don’t say!” she said, perplexed. “Of course that might explain the bundles. Chris may be only showing kindness to a fellow workman. But—it is so easy for people thrown together that way to get interested in each other when they’re not truly congenial. I should hate to have Chris spoil his life by getting attached to a common girl. But still, it does seem as if Chris would have sense about it. I am sure he has fine ideals.”
“Of course, Mother. He has. I wouldn’t worry. And—it may not be anything but a little kindness as you say. I don’t see, Motherie, why you can’t just trust things like that to God. You trust a lot of other things just as big.”
Mrs. Walton looked at her daughter with a startled glance. Elise was not one to speak much of God. She wondered if she had been giving a poor witness.
“I suppose I should,” she said, with a smile. “One forgets at times when a new peril looms that life is not all in our own hands to plan for. Elise, dear, wasn’t that a knock at the door? Can you run down, or shall I?”
But Elise was already on her way.
She opened the door, and there stood Janice with the little roller.
“Mother thought you might not have a roller and would like to use ours,” she said, half shy again before this girl whom she had held in awe so many years.
“Oh, how wonderful! It was darling of you to think of it. No, of course we never even knew there was such a tool. How do you use it? Won’t you come in just a minute and show me? Come upstairs and meet my mother. She’d love it. No, I won’t keep you but a second, but I do want you to know my mother, and then you can show us how to use this cute thing.”
So, much against her will, Janice consented to go upstairs.
“It’s Janice Halsey, Mother,” called Elise as they mounted the high, narrow stairs. “She’s brought us the darlingest little roller to use on the seams of the paper. Wasn’t that lovely? Her mother sent it over.”
“Oh, a roller!” said Mrs. Walton, coming cordially to the head of the stairs. “How nice! I used to have one, long years ago. I don’t know what became of it. Janice Halsey, I’m glad to meet you, and it was very kind of you to be so thoughtful for us. Won’t you thank your mother for me?”
Janice didn’t stay but a minute or two, and when she was gone, Elise came back and got to work in earnest.
“Didn’t you like her, Mother?” she asked as she watched her mother looking out the window after the departing Janice.
“Yes,” said the mother, returning with satisfaction from the window, “very much. Of course, one can’t judge a person in a minute or two, but she seems well bred. I was watching her walk. She moves with a natural grace. Now, that Anna Peters swags. She can’t take a step without swaggering, and when she stands with her slinky coats wrapped around her hips, she looks like a half a hoop. One wonders why her legs don’t break off somewhere around the knees, with the balance of her body utterly destroyed as it is. And she goes around smoking on the street and in her car. I’ve seen her. She’s a bold hussy!”
Elise laughed cheerfully.
“Oh, Motherie, you’re so funny when you don’t like someone. Anna Peters does that on purpose. It’s the fashion, Mums, to stand that way, all slunk back.”
“Well, don’t you ever let me catch you standing that way!” said her mother firmly. “Now, this little Janice is a lady. She must have had a well-bred mother.”
“Janice says her mother never used to have to work,” said Elise, thoughtfully. “Isn’t it strange how people and circumstances just change when they get ready, and you can’t do anything about it? You just have to do the best you can?”
“I suppose, dear, that God plans it all,” said her mother with a sweet trustfulness.
“Well, if you believe that, why do you ever worry, Motherie?”
Mrs. Walton was silent a moment again, and then gave h
er daughter a sweet smile.
“I oughtn’t ever to, ought I?” she said. “Well, I don’t mean to, but sometimes I just forget what a great God we have. Now, dear, shall we get back to work? I’m quite pleased to have you know that sweet child, and someday, perhaps, we’ll go and see the mother. I just hope the older sister is as possible.”
It was only a few days later that a tall, rough-looking man came into the store and bought a pound of cheese and a box of crackers.
Chris waited on him and noticed a long jagged scar across one cheek. He noticed, also, that he walked about the store, stared at the cash window a good deal, and waited until Natalie was at liberty. Then he pushed his check and the money in. Chris saw his lips move in a remark and twist in an ugly, familiar laugh. Chris felt his anger rise, but he had to turn to his next customer, a fussy old lady who wanted to inspect every orange he put in the bag for her. When he looked up, the man was just sauntering out the door, with a leer and a grin back at Natalie, who had looked away from the door with deep annoyance in her eyes. Chris wondered what was familiar about the sag of his shoulders as he went away, and it was not until later in the day that it occurred to him, and he thought about the bum on the street corner and mentally compared the two. Had that fellow turned up again and hunted out Natalie to annoy her? He felt an undercurrent of worry all the afternoon.
It was a busy day, and Chris had no time to think much. The manager let most of the men go early that night.
Chris was down in the cellar, piling up a lot of boxes that had been thrown downstairs in a hurry that afternoon. He did not like his orderly basement to get in a mess for the next morning.
The boss came down the stairs and spoke to him.
“Walton, they’re all gone but Miss Halsey, and I think she’s almost through. She has three cents too much in her balance sheet and is trying to find her mistake, but I think it won’t take her long. Would you two mind closing up the store tonight? I promised my wife I’d meet her and take her out tonight! Do you mind?”
Chris promised with a smile, proud that he was trusted to close up. The boss usually wouldn’t let anybody but himself do it.
He heard the manager say good night to Natalie and go out the door. He put the last box in place, shoved back some tins of canned goods that had been disarranged, picked up some scattered wood shavings, snapped out the light, and came upstairs.
He was wearing old shoes with soft pliable soles, and his footsteps made no sound as he came. He enjoyed the thought of getting a glimpse of Natalie before she saw him. Her sweet face always filled him with exultation that there could be a girl so lovely and unspoiled.
Then he stepped into the store and came within sight of the little glass cage where Natalie sat, and his blood froze with horror. For there, straight within range, standing in front of Natalie was a tall man wearing a small black mask on the upper part of his face and pointing a revolver straight at her!
Chapter 14
For an instant Chris stood paralyzed with horror. Without stopping to think it out, he knew instinctively that Natalie would not be the one to give up easily, throw up her hands, and hand over the cash register. She would not think of herself, and she would fight to the last hope.
And there wasn’t any hope. He could see that this man was a hard one who didn’t care what he did. It seemed incredible that this could happen, only half past six in the evening, on a street that an hour earlier would have been crowded with passersby, in a store that five short minutes before would have been well protected by a large force of men. Every one of them gone, and he the only one left! Doubtless the bandit knew that—or bandits, for there were probably at least two of them. They must have thought that he was gone, too. He had been down in the cellar for some little time, and the store would seem empty to an onlooker from the street. He must not let them know of his presence till he could first do something to protect Natalie, to protect the cash in the register and safe. He happened to know there was a larger amount of money than usual in the safe, brought in that afternoon after the bank had closed.
And now Natalie would be required to open that safe and quickly, too. Would she do it? He felt afraid that she might stand out against it. Indeed, she seemed to be doing so now.
She was sitting up straight and pale in her little glass room, her eyes big and frightened, looking into that ugly, menacing gun. But she had not put her hands up as she had been told to do.
“Put ’em up, girlie, and dontcha touch that telephone,” came the ugly command. “Up with ’em an’ you march out here. You gotta open that safe in the back room and do it good and quick, see? Up with ’em, I say! I ain’t got time to waste. I’ll count three, see? An’ ef they ain’t up when I gets to three I shoots, see? And when I shoots, I shoots. I ain’t no softie. I don’t mind layin’ out a little pretty one like you. I shoots ta kill! One—”
The store was awfully still and Chris felt as if his heart had stopped. It was up to him to do something before it was too late. Could he get out and call for help? He had no weapon. He could not hope to handle a man with a gun, single-handed.
“Two!” The word fell like a bullet deep into his heart. Natalie had not stirred. She had not lifted her hands. Her sweet mouth was set firmly, and she was white as death. Oh there must be something he could do. He glanced around and saw close at his side a big basket of hard green apples. Could he do it? All those years of his boyhood when he had practiced pitching baseball came to his mind, but quicker than any thought came an earlier practice to his lips, a practice learned at his mother’s knee in babyhood. Oh, God, help me save her!
Silently, he seized an apple, crouched in the old position, and swung his arm. Could he hit that gun out of the man’s hand? And if he did, would it perhaps go off and kill Natalie? Oh, God! Oh, God! And suddenly he knew that he believed there was a God.
The hard green missile whizzed through the air like a bullet. There was a crash and an explosion, but Chris could not stop to see what had happened. Another apple went whizzing and struck the enemy on the temple. He had started for the door but it dazed him, and as he looked back, Chris gave him another apple, full in the nose, with another in the eyes.
Oh God! Oh, God! Help me! Prayed Chris in his heart, and aimed another apple, when suddenly to his surprise he saw the man crumple to the floor. Could just apples knock a man out? He plunged across the room and was upon him with a wrestling hold he had learned in high school days. The man struggled and kicked out at him, then smashed a blinding blow across Chris’s eyes, so that the room was full of stars, bright, hard stars, and his head was swimming, but still he kept his grip on the man’s throat. And where was Natalie? She had disappeared from sight. What voice was that he heard? And how did all these people get into the store?
He opened one swollen eye and saw brass buttons. Of course, the police headquarters was almost next door, but how did they know to come? They have heard the report of the gun. Oh, was Natalie killed?
They loosened his hold upon the throat of the bandit, set him upon his feet, wiped the blood from his nose, and patted him on his shoulder.
“Good work, boy!” they said, and he could hear the clink of handcuffs on the arms of the man on the floor, who was struggling for his breath.
“Where is she?” Chris cried out wildly, his heart bursting with fear.
“Where’s who? What? You mean the one that telephoned us? Why, who was she anyway? The cashier?”
They jerked the door of the little glass cage open, and there was Natalie, lying on the floor in a heap, with the telephone in her limp hand and her mouth to the instrument, but she did not stir. She was quite unconscious.
Chris was down on his knees at once, lifting her out as if she had been a baby, staggering up with her in his arms.
“He must have got her after all!” he groaned.
“No such thing!” said a man in the crowd, coming closer. “She’s just fainted. I seen that gun fall. It went off in the corner, quite harmless. I was just co
ming by the store on my way, an’ I seen that first apple come flyin’ an’ hit that guy just as pretty! Man, that was some pitchin’! I couldn’t rightly make out what was doing. I thought ta myself the men here were kiddin’ each other in the absence of a manager. I thought they was wastin’ good apples an’ oughtta be reported, till I heard that there gun go off in the corner down by the door, almost next ta me. An’ then right away I heard the p’lice whistle, and they come flyin’ from headquarters, an’ I knowed somethin’ was doin’, but how’d you get onta it? Some buddy come an’ tell ya?”
“Call came over the wire, ‘Grocery store! Hold up!’ that was all,” said the chief of police shortly. “It was a woman’s voice. Guess she done it.” And he nodded toward Natalie. “Boys, get some water,” he ordered sharply. “She’s gotta be brought to. She’s some brave little girl, she is.”
Chris laid her gently upon the floor and put water to her lips, took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and bathed her face, and presently she opened her eyes and stared around in amazement at the crowd.
“Oh, are you all right, Chris?” she murmured.
“Sure thing!” grinned Chris in relief. “Don’t talk now. Wait. I’m heating you some coffee. There was some left over from what the men had at noon. No, don’t get up till I bring it.”
More people were gathering now. A woman who occupied the apartment over the drug store across the way said she was sitting at the window, watching for her husband’s train to come in and had seen the whole thing. She said the store was light enough for her to see the apples come flying across the room, and it seemed as if there were a bushel of them.
A small boy, who scarcely ever was known to miss a great thrill like that, testified that he heard the gun go off and got on the spot while the apples were flying. He said he saw the big guy get hit in the nose and go down.
The confusion quieted down after a few minutes. Chris brought Natalie a cup of coffee and made her drink it. And when she was able to sit up, they sent her home in a taxi, though she would look after putting her cash register in the safe first, herself.