Rose Galbraith (24 page)

There was no heading to the paper except the word “Questionnaire.” Then the questions followed.

1.  What is the worth of your entire estate?

2.  Where is it now held?

3.  How much is in stocks or bonds? (State what kind and names)

4.  In what form is the rest invested?

5.  Is all your inheritance under your own power, or is all or part of it held in trust? If so, state names and addresses of trustees.

6.  Have you a guardian? (If so give name and address)

7.  When do you come of age?

8.  Will all your property at that time be transferred to your own keeping?

Rose read the paper carefully, slowly through to the end. Then she suddenly held it out to the man.

“I'm not going to make out any such paper as that!” she said crisply. “The answers to those questions are none of my uncle's business, and they certainly are not things for your government to pry into or for you to know. I am an American citizen, and I do not care to discuss my financial standing with you or anybody else over here. If there is any more of this nonsense, I shall consult someone who has the power to have this stopped. I have a very good friend whose husband is connected with the English Government and I shall appeal to him. I am sure it will not be pleasant for anyone who attempts any further questioning of this sort.”

Rose's chin was high and her air was assured, though to tell the truth she was mightily frightened. Her habitual method of keeping in the background made it hard for her to maintain this position, for all the time something kept saying what if she was wrong and there was something to all this? She had to keep remembering that night on the stairs and the cold hard words of both men as they speculated on her probable fortune.

She began to fold the paper rapidly and crush it in her hand.

“You can go back and tell my uncle that I have nothing to say about this matter, and I do not wish to discuss it at any future time, either.”

She stood back as if she were waiting for him to go, and he rose slowly, eyeing her strangely, a baffled look in his eyes. Then he stretched out his hand.

“I'll take that paper, if you please,” he said autocratically.

“No,” said Rose quickly. “I shall keep this to show to my uncle, and to my friend who is connected with the government. I shall have the matter investigated.”

It was a sudden thought, and she was not prepared for the almost fright that came into his light eyes as he took another step toward her. “I warn you that that paper is government property,” he said severely. “You'd better be careful what you do with it.”

“There is nothing on it to show that,” said Rose assuredly, “but I shall take good care of it, and if any fault is found with me I shall be sure to exonerate you by telling the government just where I got this paper and just what you tried to make me do.”

Her voice was almost trembling now, but she was looking steadily at him.

“Give that paper to me!” he demanded in a louder tone, a very harsh, rough tone.

“No,” said Rose. “I'm going to keep it. And you'll have to excuse me now. I hear my grandmother is awake. I must go to her.” She went swiftly into her grandmother's room and closed the door sharply. Lord MacCallummore could distinctly hear the old-fashioned wooden button as it turned. But he came in with a stride and took hold of the latch, shaking the door, an ugly look on his face.

“Yes?” said the sweet voice of Mrs. Galbraith as she appeared in the kitchen doorway, “and what wud ye be wantin' in thae room?”

The man turned with a start of surprise, then saw it was only another woman, and the cunning look came back in his eyes.

“I want that girl. That Galbraith girl. She has something that belongs to me. An important paper. I want it at once, or I shall call the police. I am Lord MacCallummore!”

“Oh!” said Jessie in her mild sweet voice. “Noo, think o' that! Verra weel! Juist sit doon. I'll ca my husband. He's juist driven in. Excuse me.” Jessie vanished into the kitchen again. Lord MacCallummore, with a furtive look behind him, darted out the front door and was into his car and shooting off down the street and out of sight before ever John Galbraith could get into the house.

It was an interesting thing that the very next day Lady Campbell came riding up in her fine car to call on Rose. Grandmother was feeling better that afternoon and had come out to sit with the rest, with her knitting in her hands. Jessie was there with her sewing, and Kirsty and Rose were hemming some new dish towels, made from old homespun linen sheets that were wearing thin in places. They were all laughing and talking and being cozy together, when Lady Campbell came knocking at the door. For she didn't send her liveried servant up to the door to demand the family's attendance, nor even to find out if that was the right place. She came herself.

“I was sure this was the place,” she said gaily as Rose came to meet her. “Just from your description in your letter.”

She kissed Rose like a dear old friend and sat right down with them all, as if she were one of them, and such a nice time as they had together! Jessie Galbraith felt that she would always count Lady Campbell as a personal friend after this. The lady drew her chair up to Grandmother's and watched her knit, and then asked her to show her how to make that particular stitch, which was new to her. With her own hands Lady Campbell knit a round or two, just to be sure she would remember, and when she handed it back to the old lady, Grandmother said, “I shull never let John wear that sock. I shull always keep it tae show how Lady Cawmill knit in it hersel'!”

When she got up to go, she told them she was going back to London the next week to attend a big government affair, and she would like to take Rose and Kirsty with her to stay for a few days. She would like to take the girls around and show them a few sights in London. Perhaps they would catch a glimpse of Her Majesty the Queen, for she was to be in town.

The girls' eyes glowed like two pairs of stars and they caught their breath in delight. Nothing like that had ever come to Kirsty, and as for Rose, she hadn't ever expected any such greatness in her life.

“Mother?” said Kirsty in wonder. And Rose's eyes turned toward her aunt with a question.

Jessie's smiling eyes looked from one to the other girl and then beamed at Lady Campbell.

“That is a beautiful invaetation, Lady Cawmill, and I ken the twa lassies are verra gratefu' tae ye. But I'm thinkin' mayhap they've not the gairments tae wear, an' fittin' raiment. Rose might, as she came prepared for a holiday, but my Kirsty's not sae well supplied, an' mayhap I wudn have time tae remedy the lack.”

The girls gave a quick look at one another, Kirsty's a withdrawing glance and Rose's full of eagerness.

“Oh, Kirsty can have anything of mine she needs,” said Rose. “I haven't much that's grand, but Mother got me some pretty things before she went, and she would like me to share them. Kirsty and I are about the same size.”

“Dear children!” said Lady Campbell. “That is lovely! But I don't think there will be any lack. And if there is, it will be my dear pleasure to supply it. You know I have no daughters of my own, and I have always wanted some. I shall be so glad if you will share your girls with me for a few days, Mrs. Galbraith. Just let them come with what they have, and if there are extra occasions, I can lend them anything they need. I have a whole wardrobe in my house of garments my nieces have left when they came up to London to stay over to some affair. So you needn't worry. I'm sure we can fix them up if necessary. Don't let clothes worry you for a minute! And now, that's lovely, and I shall stop by for you early next week.”

They arranged the time and she drove away, leaving a much excited group in the cottage, the mother and grandmother no less pleased than were the girls.

And so it came about that early the next week when Lord MacCallummore returned insolently, he found Rose had gone up to London to Lady Campbell's. And it happened that he knew who Lady Campbell's husband was and what position he occupied in the government. He turned without a word to hurry back to his car, when up came Donald and David, those two stalwart young men, and met him face to face! Like a barrier they stood in his way.

“Is there aught I cud do for ye?” asked Donald, with the courtesy a better lord than MacCallummore might have shown.

And David squared his broad shoulders and scowled at the lord.

Lord MacCallummore's light blue eyes showed fright like a runaway horse, and he said with a drawn attempt at a smile, “No thank you, I'm just going!” and strode down the walk and made quick his departure.

W
hen the girls got back from London they had many wonderful things to tell.

“Oh, Grandmither, it was sae wonderful!” cried Kirsty. “The palaces, the gardens, the towers. And Grandmither, the parties! It was grand! But the best of a' we saw the Queen. Ah, but she's bonnie! And Grandmither, she smiled at me! Of coorse she didna ken me at a', but she lookit richt straight at me, and bowed and waved her dainty hand!”

The girls scarcely gave anyone else a chance to speak for days as they chattered on about their adventures.

Rose wrote to Gordon, a great fat letter, and there were a couple of paragraphs that Gordon read over and over thoughtfully:

The rest of her letter dealt with the thrills of her trip to London, the celebration they attended, where they saw the King and Queen. She added a few shy thoughts of her own, how it would be when she someday saw the King of kings in His Glory. And then, just at the end she wrote,

When Gordon McCarroll received that letter he was just starting for a weekend house party at the shore. One of his old friends from school had found out where he was in New York, and had called him up on the telephone, begging him to come, as she had an extra girl, and her brother whom she had expected was unavoidably detained by business. Would he be good enough to take her brother's place at a last-minute call? Especially as it was only because she hadn't known his address sooner that he had not been invited before.

Gordon hadn't wanted to go. The friend was not a great favorite, and he was tired to death, for the week had been sultry and his work had been strenuous. But because the girl was so insistent he had finally said yes, and then discovered after he hung up that he had barely time to fling a few things into his suitcase and take a taxi to the train.

As he went out the door, he discovered quite a pile of letters in the mailbox. He snatched them out and stuffed them into his pocket, too hurried to do more than glance at them. The one on the top was from his mother, he saw, as he tucked them away safely. He was pleased to reflect that he would have it to read on the train.

He was too anxiously busy watching traffic on the way to the station, wondering if he were going to make it in time, to look at his mail. He was getting the taxi fare ready, so that he would lose no time when he reached the station. And even at that he had to sprint to get to his train gate and down the stairs in time. He swung aboard at the last minute.

Then trains mountainward and seaward were full on Saturday afternoon always, and he had to walk through three cars before he sighted a vacant seat. He had asked for a chair as he passed the Pullman conductor, but that official shook his head decidedly. “No sir! Not a chair! All taken!” So Gordon made for the vacancy, scarcely glancing at the woman who sat by the window, her head bent, as she pushed a small overnight bag a little farther over.