Spice Box (12 page)

When at last the young man looked up from his figuring and announced the result, Martha caught her breath. Could it be possible that she was actually contemplating spending all that money? And yet, it was less than the probable figure she had set—far less.

“That’s approximate of course,” he added eagerly. “It could be more or less according to the material you want in it. This is only a rough estimate.”

“Well, I must think about it of course,” said Martha, looking down to hide her delight that the figures were no higher.

The builder’s pink countenance fell and paled. He tried to think of something else to say, opened his lips, trembling, but closed them again. He wanted this job mightily. He looked appealingly at Ronald and then down at his pencil, and then began unconsciously to draw another fireplace on the corner of the paper.

“I might work it out, make an estimate. Perhaps I would find someplace where I could cut it down,” he said. “You see, I’m just getting started. I’d do the work part cheap. It would mean a good deal to me to have the job right now—”

His voice trembled a little as he cleared his throat.

“His kid’s been awful sick—” put in Ronald irrelevantly, dropping his own pencil with a clatter and disturbing Ernestine’s repose as he stooped to pick it up.

With sudden insight Martha saw that to Ronald much depended on his protégés getting the job. Such knowledge a week ago would have been enough to finish the whole matter. She would have suspected that the work would not be well done and she would be cheated. But so great a miracle had the boy’s smile already wrought in her that she immediately became possessed of a desire to please these two and give the job at once without further words. All her long years of business training were scattered to the winds by a simple desire to please a rough, friendly boy. How startling, if she had taken the time to think about it. Instead she was merely impressed by the way the boy’s dark hair tossed itself up over his sunburned brow, and she felt compelled to answer at once.

“Why, I don’t know. Yes. I guess you might do that. It’s rather sudden, but I guess it will be all right. You may go ahead and make an estimate if you don’t mind.”

The young man’s face relaxed, and he rose awkwardly, terribly conscious of himself and of how much hung on this deal.

Ronald stood up gravely and put down the reluctant cat, but there was a look not altogether of satisfaction about his expressive young mouth. Somehow it penetrated to Martha’s consciousness, and her soul responded to its suggestion.

“I’m sorry your child is ill,” she said pleasantly. “Do you live near here? Is there anything I could do to help in a neighborly way?”

Ronald’s lips relaxed a trifle.

“No ma’am, thank you,” said the father, growing pink again. “Johnny’s better now, but I’m pretty anxious to get him and his mother off to the seashore for a few days. The doctor says that’s the thing for him now. And his mother’s pretty well run down nursing him so long. He’s been sick all summer.”

“Well, that
is
hard,” said Martha reflectively. And then after a pause and another glance at Ronald, whose eyes averted, she added, “Well, now, if it will help you any with your planning, I think you can just count on this job right away. Begin tomorrow if you like. I really want it done, and I guess I shan’t be happy till I get it. We can talk over the details and get them settled later, but you can count on the job. I guess we can fix the terms all right. I don’t want you to cheat yourself.”

Then beamed Ronald’s smile, on the averted side of his face first, so no one would see it. But it was too big to stay there, and it spread all across from ear to ear, so he had to reach down and scratch Ernestine’s ear to hide it. Nevertheless, before he left, he lifted adoring eyes to Martha Spicer’s face, and the glory of them was reward enough for her.

When she at last shut and bolted her front door and turned to meet the accusing eyes of Aunt Abigail and Uncle Jonathan from the shadows of the hall, her heart was so filled with joy over the relief she had given that she didn’t care at all. Just sailed on upstairs, with Ernestine threading her assertive way underfoot, and never thought how reckless and unbusinesslike it was to spend so much money without consideration.

She was happy as she began preparing for bed, happier than she had been for years. She was happy at the thought of the lovely place she was going to make out of her gloomy little house, but happier than all at the joy she had seen in Ronald’s eyes, and the relief and ecstasy she had seen in the eyes of the anxious young father.

And then, just as she was beginning to take out her hairpins and arrange her hair for the night, there came a timid ring at the doorbell.

J
anice, huddled in the corner of the rapidly moving ambulance, was trying to think her way through. She knew she had taken a big chance; so far she seemed to have gotten from the hospital without suspicion, and now the next thing was to get away from Sam without delay. She had told him he was to take her to catch the express, but was there an express at this hour? She couldn’t remember. He hadn’t demurred, so perhaps he didn’t know, or perhaps there was one. If there was one she must, without question, take it to somewhere. Even if she didn’t have money enough to pay her fare they could put her off somewhere, couldn’t they? And if there wasn’t a train and Sam did as she told him and went back to take Miss Wiley to her train, she could at least sneak off in the darkness and lose herself, and by the time anybody responsible knew about it she could be well hidden somewhere.

But it was a wild drive, for Sam seemed to have an idea that there wasn’t much time to make her train, and he was making the old ambulance fairly gallop.

As they neared the Junction she was relieved to hear a whistle in the distance, and then the headlight of an engine came into view. She could dimly see the station just ahead and a few dark figures ranged on the platform, evidently about to board the train. She drew a breath of relief and began to think. How much money did she have with her? Enough to carry her to Boston or Buffalo or somewhere far enough away so Herbert could not trace her? She knew she had two five-dollar bills and some change in her dress pocket, parting gifts that grateful patients had given her, but would that carry her far enough? Yet, she must not spend all she had, or she would have nothing to live on till she found a job.

The train rushed up to the little Junction station and then on by, and Janice had a moment of fright lest it was not going to stop at all. She clambered down from the ambulance and dashed across the platform, chasing after the last car as it glided by her, going slower now. It
was
going to stop!

“Hurry back!” she called to Sam as she went flying down the platform. And then the train came to a halt, and she hastened to climb up the steps of the last car, puffing and panting, all out of breath. She struggled with the door, but it would not open, and to her distress, the conductor shouted “All aboard!” Then the train lurched and began slowly to move. It was too late to get off and run to another car. In horror she gripped the doorknob and struggled with it again, but it would not open. She couldn’t understand it, because there was a light in the car. Surely there must be somebody in there. She began to pound on the glass door and rattle the knob, to kick against the door, but the train roared on and nothing happened. She was definitely locked out, and the train was going so fast now that the dark world outside seemed to be simply flying by. Well, she had gotten away from the hospital all right. Sam had gone back and would tell how she just made the train. Nobody could very well trace her, for no conductor would remember such a passenger, as she wasn’t inside. But how long could she stand this ride? She could not endure standing up, clinging to the doorknob for very long, for she was trembling already when she got here, both from the shock of seeing Herbert and from her wild run down the platform to the train.

Carefully she tried to sit down on the top step, but it was a precarious seat, with only a slender handrail just above her head to hold on to and the danger of being thrown off whenever the train went around a swift curve, which seemed to be nearly all the time. They were plunging through the mountains now, and she could feel the depths beneath her even with her eyes shut. She might at any minute be hurled into space. She shook the door and cried out again, but no one could possibly hear in all that din and roar, even if there was anyone there to hear. The wind took her voice and tossed it in fragments from crag to crag, flinging it far into the valley below in weakly mocking sounds.

On and on they thundered, rocking and tossing. The train was like some wild beast upon whose back she clung, who wanted to rid himself of her. It appeared to plunge and rear and do its fearful best to fling her off.

It seemed hours that she crouched there, clinging to the metal doorknob, her feet braced on the doorframe, half crouching, half sitting on the cold platform. Until at last the great untamed thing on which she rode suddenly slowed down and came to a dead, lurching stop beside a wooden platform, whose shadowy outlines led to a little station.

Scarcely believing her dazed senses, she crept stiffly down the steps of her car and tried to hurry along the station platform to climb into the next car before the train started on again. But as if the train had been aware of it and would have none of her, it gave a snort of warning, grinding its wheels menacingly, and started on its way again, leaving the girl trembling, sore, chilled to the bone, and ready to sink down in the dark and die.

It was a horrible feeling, to be left alone in this wild deserted spot, she knew not where, nor how far from any human habitation, surrounded by who knew what awful perils. Yet she could not have remained any longer on that train platform. She would have lost her mind, certainly her strength, and been flung off into some ravine to die. Perhaps, after all, she had been wrong to run away. But no, there was Herbert! Oh, perhaps the doctor would have found some way to protect her if she only had had the nerve to tell him, but it would have been such shame and disgrace to have the story get out among those gossiping nurses. Not that the doctor would have told, but those nurses seemed to have uncanny ways of sensing out stories and spreading them. No, she could not have stayed. She must just be thankful that she got away so easily. But she was still fearful. Somehow she half expected to see Herbert come riding down that track in the darkness after her.

In her terror she shrank close to the silent door of the deserted station. Inside she could hear the quiet
tick, tick, tick
of the clock, the intermittent
click-click-click
of the telegraphic instrument, like two friendly watchdogs asleep and snoring. But the wind that swept down the mountainside and whirled through the railroad cut was cold, and her blue cape was thin. Moreover, her body was worn with watching and excitement and the terrible ride she had just experienced. She had had no supper but the few spoonfuls of broth before the doctor left her. She was trembling from head to foot and ready to cry, crouched down in a corner by the station door, resting her head against the overnight bag she carried.

She must have fallen asleep, for when she woke she was stiff and sore, with the full glow of a great headlight swooping down upon her. In her bewilderment it seemed a living being, an enemy come to destroy her, but as she gazed in terror her senses came back alertly and she saw it was just another train. Her heat leaped high with hope and then fell with fear. Suppose it was a freight train and it was going to stop! Suppose she should be discovered by the train hands.

A moment more and the train slowed down and she saw it was a passenger train with sleeping cars, and some people were getting off. Strange that anyone should choose to get off here! But suddenly now she became aware of a car driving up to the other side of the station, and she arose with new fears clutching at her heart. How was she going to explain her presence here alone at this hour?

This was evidently a through train that had stopped to let off some officials, or people of consequence, perhaps. It would go away at once of course, and she must get on if possible. Already the conductor was about to swing aboard when Janice hurried from her shadow and slipped like a wraith past him and up the steps of the car nearest her where some people had just gotten off. She cared not where it was going, only to get away from this dark, desolate spot. And so far she had not had to spend any money, but she prayed that she might have money enough to get away somewhere far from Herbert.

It was a long time before the conductor found her, seated in a day coach. “Where did you get on?” he asked gruffly.

“Just back there,” she said innocently, lifting frightened eyes.

“But you had no right to get on back there. This is a through train to Boston and doesn’t stop at that station.”

“But it did stop,” said Janice, with a puzzled frown.

“Yes, it stopped by special request from the president of the railroad. We have no right to take on passengers from that station.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Janice. “I didn’t know. And it was so cold and dark there, I was afraid.”

“But how in the world did you happen to come there at that hour alone? Didn’t you know there was a train an hour ago going this way?”

“I missed it,” said Janice, with troubled gaze.

“Well, where were you going?”

“Why, I was going to Boston. Doesn’t this train go to Boston?”

“Yes, but you have no right to be on this train. I’ll have to put you off, I suppose, and I really haven’t the time to back up. I’ve already lost as much time as I ought.”

“Oh, you needn’t put me off it, if you don’t mind. It’s very dark and lonely back there, and the station is closed. You see, I just came here to get the first train I could catch. I am in a great hurry. I didn’t know whether there was any train tonight or not. I just took my chances and came. I’m a stranger around here.”

The conductor eyed her keenly.