Blue Ruin (19 page)

The old lady had succeeded by this time in unfastening the hook of the screen door with which she had doubly barricaded herself.

“You see, I’m alone,” she explained as Dana stepped in, hat in hand, and lifted his eyes to look for Lynette, impatient to begin her reconstruction.

“Alone?” he said surprised. “Alone!” he added in annoyance. Now he would have to wait.

“Yes, but please don’t tell Elim. He thought Mrs. Pettingill was going to stay till five o’clock or he wouldn’t have gone off and left me. It’s silly of course for them to feel that way, and Mrs. Pettingill had said she would stay, so Elim thought I would be all right. But her husband came back sooner than she had expected and stopped here for her, and I just told her not to mind, I was perfectly all right, and you know Sam Pettingill never can bear to be crossed in anything. I knew he’d be cross if she didn’t go right that minute. But it’s very silly of course that I can’t stay alone in broad daylight. I do feel better of course when the door is locked and then nobody can come in on me unaware and startle me, but really I’m as spry as I ever was and can perfectly well stay alone.”

“But why are you alone?” asked Dana as if it were some fault of her own for which she were accountable to him. “Where is Lynn? Where is Mrs. Brooke? Gone visiting?”

“Come and sit down,” said Grandmother, motioning her hand toward the dining room with her stately little formal gesture that was so characteristic of her. “No need to stand up and talk, and really I don’t know but I am tired a little after poking around down in the cellar. There, I’ve got a cobweb on my sleeve, too, haven’t I?

“Come in and sit down and I’ll tell you all about it. It’s nice to see you again and have a little talk. You never did mind talking to old ladies, you know. And wait, suppose I get you a piece of Lynnie’s birthday cake. You always liked cake, and you didn’t get any yet, did you? It’s especially nice this time. Too bad you couldn’t get over to Lynnie’s party last night, but of course I suppose you couldn’t help it!”

“Birthday cake!” said Dana stupidly, staring at the old lady. “Birthday cake!”

“Yes,” said the old lady sweetly. “It was the nicest one Mary has made for years. You see, Lynnie was especially anxious to have it the best birthday party she has ever had, because now she is through with school. And it was. Too bad you had to miss it, but of course—Well, they had the cunningest little ice creams. Flowers and peaches and pears and apples all made in cream, and they were so lifelike. My what wonderful things they do nowadays, don’t they? To think of making the ice cream into pictures. Too bad it didn’t keep. We had some leftover, but Elim finished it all at noon today, and it was pretty soft then. I didn’t care for it myself.”

All the time the old lady was busy getting out a sprigged china plate from the latticed corner cupboard, getting a silver knife from the ancient sideboard drawer, getting out the big half a cake from the closet in the opposite corner, and cutting a generous slice of Lynette’s birthday cake. Then hurrying out to the little refrigerator porch she returned with a glass of creamy milk, talking all the while. Dana stood and stared at her.

Such a dear little old lady, so aristocratic, so reserved usually, and now turned suddenly garrulous. But Dana had no thoughts to wonder at that. He stood there dumb, stunned. Lynette’s birthday! And he had forgotten all about it!

All the pretty plans they had made together as boy and girl, all the sweet ways of the girl he had loved so long, came rushing back upon him in a tumult and accusing him.

And he was so unused to being accused. He could hardly stand there and take it even from himself. So this was why Lynette had been so sore and had acted so unnatural last night, had really been rude in a way to Jessie Belle. It had been her birthday and she was angry because he had forgotten it and had stayed away from her party. Well, of course that was something, and she would probably harp on it a long time. The worst trouble with Lynette was that she was sentimental. Of course, one’s birthday was no different from any other day if one just thought so, but he would make up for that. He would take her down and get some ice cream this evening and they would have a pleasant time together. He would stay to supper. He would show Jessie Belle that he was done with her, too. That was the thing to do, of course, even if she was staying at his home. But really, after all, Lynette was to blame. Of course she was; if she cared so doggone much about that birthday party she should have reminded him that it
was
her birthday. Lynette was so awfully proud. She expected him to remember every little detail of childhood and then was sore if he didn’t. Of course he always had remembered it without her telling him, but after all, it wasn’t a thing to make a lot of trouble about, and Lynette ought to know that.

Well, she would see that. She would be reasonable when he had explained how annoyed he was at Aunt Justine and how his mind had been occupied with that invitation to preach in New York sometime in August. He hadn’t had a chance yet to tell her that. That would have impressed her all right of course, but he had been saving that for a choice bit at the end, and the end hadn’t come. Well, it would come this evening.

He would just stay now, not even telephone home to say he wasn’t coming, for if he did Justine Whipple would somehow manage to worm it out of him where he was and insist on him coming home for some absolutely necessary reason. He would stay and help the old lady get supper if that was what she was going to do, and Lynette would be mollified when she came in and found him setting the table just as he used to do when he was a kid in high school. Of course he didn’t want to get in the habit of doing that for it would never be within the dignity of a minister to have to be always helping out with the housework, and he must begin right at first, of course, but still, he would do it this once.

By the time the old lady came back with the foaming glass of milk he was feeling almost comfortable again and quite himself.

“Well now, Grandma, this is just like you to think to save some cake for me. I’ll get a double dose, won’t I? I’m going to stay to dinner, you know. Yes, I promised Lynn. It was a terrible disappointment not to be able to get over last night of course, but I’m going to stay tonight. I was hoping—that is—Lynn’s birthday present hasn’t arrived yet. It ought to have been here yesterday, of course, but it wasn’t—I—She—” He was growing embarrassed. On such occasions it was his habit to change the subject. It gave him an appearance of ease and enabled him to pass many an uncomfortable situation with credit to himself. He changed the subject now.

“When did you say she would be here?”

Grandmother Rutherford looked at him intently but answered in her usual sweet tones.

“Why, that’s quite uncertain. She wasn’t sure when she went away. Mary of course will be back either tonight or tomorrow evening. I think myself she’ll be likely to stay to see them off. It isn’t every day one gets a chance to see friends off on a trip you know, and I told her not to worry, Elim and I would be quite all right.”

“Oh, Mrs. Brooke has gone down to New York to see her sister-in-law off to Europe, has she? Lynette told me they were going.”

“Yes. She hesitated about leaving me, but I told her it was almost like going myself to have her go and then come back and tell me all about it. Mary is a wonderful storyteller. She can make you see just how they all look and what they said, and even the way their dresses are made and what they are taking along for the trip. Lynnie is like her that way, too. Lynnie is very much like her mother in everything I think, don’t you?”

Dana frowned. Mrs. Brooke was a very determined woman sometimes. He didn’t know that he cared to think Lynette was entirely like her. So he changed the subject again.

“When did you say Lynn was coming back?”

He looked at his watch half impatiently.

“Well,” said the grandmother, with a wicked little twinkle in her eyes, “she hated so to leave me when she’d just got home, that I told her I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to see her coming back for supper.”

“What?” said Dana with a startled look. “You don’t mean you don’t expect her back before supper? Was she expecting to stay somewhere? Why, I told her
I’d
be here for supper tonight!”

Was it possible that Lynn was daring to stand him up when he had told her he would be here? Had she planned this for revenge? He had never thought Lynn was vengeful. If that was it—if it proved to be that she had planned to be away if he came—when he had said distinctly that he would be here—if she was trying to work any little tricks to get it back on him—why—he would stay away for
two
weeks!
He couldn’t have her putting anything like that over on him.

Grandma had gone to the door to pay the paperboy who had arrived at that moment, so he had opportunity to think it over before his hostess returned to answer.

“Why, she sent you word. I’m sure she sent you word,” said Grandma sweetly. “Elim took the letter over just after they went. I saw him go.”

“Oh!” said Dana blankly. “But I didn’t go home. I had to be away all day—Ahem! I was called out of town. I tried to get back sooner but it was impossible! I didn’t even go into the house when I got back, just ran the car into the garage and came right up. Do you happen to know what message was in the letter?”

“Well, no, I don’t, not definitely,” said Grandma. “It wasn’t a long letter. She hadn’t but a minute to write, it was almost train time and her going was so unexpected. They just called her up while she was eating dinner. But of course it’s all in the letter, and the letter must be down there at the house.”

“Train?” said Dana puzzled. “Did she go on the train? What time did she go?”

“Why they went on the eight seventeen. It’s an express you know, and Aunt Hilda wanted them to get down as early as possible to help in the shopping.”

“Do you mean that Lynn went to New York with her mother?” Dana’s brow was clearing now. Then perhaps Lynette did not do this on purpose. There might of course be some explanation, some alleviating circumstances which the letter would explain. Probably someone was sick, or they needed her help. People were always so careless about putting burdens on their relatives when they got in a hurry. They likely wanted Lynette and her mother to close up the house for them after they were gone, or something like that. Mrs. Brooke was always so kind and willing to help others. But Lynette!

“Did you say you thought Lynette would be home on the five o’clock train? I’ll go get the car and run her home,” he said, rising with something of his old boyish friend-of-the-family air.

“Oh, no,” said Grandmother Rutherford, “she won’t be home on the five o’clock train. She—but perhaps you better read Lynnie’s note first. Then you’ll understand.”

“But,” said Dana puzzled at her manner, “you think she may be planning to stay and see them off?” His manner was almost glum now. And he had planned so nicely just what to say to her. It was hard to have to wait a whole day longer. She oughtn’t to have gone without seeing him.

“But you don’t understand,” said Grandmother Rutherford serenely. “Lynnie has not gone to see them off; she is going with them to Europe. I thought she would have told you about it herself. But the letter will explain.”

“Lynn has gone to Europe, you say? Why, that is impossible! She told me herself only yesterday afternoon that she had refused to go!” Dana’s voice was dazed, irate, unbelieving.

“Yes, but they called up last night at dinnertime. There was a vacant place. A member of the party could not go on account of illness. They insisted Lynnie should take the place. She hesitated on our account of course, but we overruled her. We felt she ought not to lose the opportunity. It is a pity you had not been here to talk it over with her. But it had to be decided right away of course. Won’t you have another piece of cake?”

But Dana suddenly pushed back his chair and arose almost haughtily. He felt that he had been affronted. An old friend of Lynette’s, a friend of the whole family, almost a member of it, sustaining almost a closer relation to Lynn than any they bore, and yet not told till after it was all decided! Lynn gone without a word! It was more than mortal man could accept.

“It’s a pity Elim hadn’t left your letter here,” went on Grandmother Rutherford placidly. “If we’d only known you were coming he would.”

Thus reminded, the old Dana would have dashed off in a hurry after his letter, forgetting his hat, forgetting to say thank you, forgetting even to finish his cake.

The present Dana sat down again and ate slowly, silently, coldly, picking up every crumb. Taking the last swallow of milk. Giving a cold “No, I thank you,” when Grandmother Rutherford offered him more, and then arose composedly, gathered up his hat from the table, turned a chilly eye on his hostess, thanked her for the cake, and retired with dignity. He did not hasten his step nor flicker an eyelash. He walked leisurely down the sidewalk just as he had walked many a time, but there was no swing in his stride this time and no light in his eyes save the light of anger. He was furious, with a growing fury that was rapidly working itself up to white heat. He had been dealt an indignity! He, the star graduate of the theological seminary, the rising young preacher whose eloquence was to astonish the world, and
New York!

And she had dared to go off to Europe without letting him know! She had done it for revenge! More and more their conversation of the day before took form and repeated itself in his brain. She had taken exception to what he had said about her college and gone off in a huff! A strange spirit for the girl whom he had chosen for his wife, whom
he had chosen!

He stalked through the house without speaking to anyone. His grandmother chuckled audibly as he mounted the stairs, and a flush of fury rose higher in his hard face.

The letter was lying on his bureau. If it had not been visible he would never have asked for it. No one in the house should suspect that he had not known Lynette was going. He sat down with it in his hand and contemplated the possibility of returning it to her unopened. That would be daring treatment, but perhaps it would bring her to her senses.