Read Substitute Guest Online

Authors: Grace Livingston Hill

Substitute Guest (21 page)

BOOK: Substitute Guest
6.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

All the rest of the day Alan kept watching Daryl, their eyes now and then meeting, each thinking that the other did not know that something strangely pleasant and happy and exciting was between them, something they had bidden be crushed, but which both were glad to know had not died in spite of their best efforts.

They went sledding in the afternoon when the dishes were done, on the old bobsled, down the hill behind the barn, and all of them forgot the cares and perplexities of their young lives and were wildly happy, cheeks tingling with the cold, eyes shining, hands clasping helping hands, strong arms holding on the swift beautiful way down the hill.

After the delicious supper, which they all made together, just as if none of them were company at all, they had a little Bible study before they did another jigsaw puzzle.

And when the puzzle was put away Ruth sat down at the piano and Daryl brought her violin, and they had lovely music again. Alan, as he sat back in the comfortable chair, watching the lovely face of Daryl as she played her violin, thrilled anew at the charm of her. After all, that Harold person hadn’t turned up all day, and his roses hadn’t been in evidence. They seemed to have forgotten them completely. Was he so much to her as they had made him feel?

And then, right in the middle of the lovely strains of the most exquisite part of the
Messiah
, there came a loud knocking on the front door, a screaming of the doorbell and a thumping with the brass knocker. The music stopped suddenly, while they gave startled looks at one another and came swiftly back to earth, considering what possibility was before them now. Daryl’s first thought was that Demeter Cass had come back to get Alan, and that this time she would succeed in carrying him away from them.

But it was Father Devereaux, grave and sweet, who went to the door and ushered in the handsome renegade, Harold Warner.

He came frowning into the room as if they were the recalcitrant ones and glowered around upon them, selecting Daryl out of the group.

“Hello, folks,” he said to them all casually, while looking straight at his girl. “I couldn’t get here sooner, Daryl, but I’ve come after you now! Hurry up and get your togs on! I’ve got a sleigh out here, and I’m taking you to a dance. It’s swell. Get on your best bib and tucker and be snappy about it! It’s miles away, and I don’t want to miss anything.”

It was Ruth who slipped out to the refrigerator room and gathered the crimson roses from their seclusion, putting them into a big silver pitcher, and sliding them unobserved into the room on a little table near the dining room door. Ruth did thoughtful things like that.

But Daryl didn’t even know she had done it. She was staring white-faced, wide-eyed at the young man who had been her beau, seeing him as she had never seen him before.

Chapter 13

A
lan had not needed the belated introduction to tell him who this good-looking, arrogant youth was. He had recognized the voice at once, and suddenly the evening and all its quiet delight was dashed in a thousand pieces. He wished he had gone home, gone anywhere, even out into a snow-drifted world, so that he might have missed meeting this young man.

Then he looked at Daryl and his heart was wrung. She stood there white and unsmiling, looking steadily at the young man.

“Hurry up, Darrie!” commanded the young autocrat. “I’ll give you five minutes!” And he pulled back the sleeve of his handsome fur overcoat and glanced at his wrist watch. “Can you make it in that?”

Daryl’s chin was lifted just the least bit haughtily, and her voice was very cool as she answered.

“No!” she said. “Even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I have guests here, Harold!”

“Guests?” His quick eyes went swiftly around the room, passing over Ruth and fastening on Alan. His brows drew down in a frown, and he flashed Alan a contemptuous, annihilating glance.

“Guests?” His eyebrows lifted questioningly. “I’m quite sure your guests would be willing to excuse you. This is an unusual opportunity for you to meet important people, Daryl, and give you an entrée into a new circle. But you’ll have to hurry. I promised I’d be right back.”

“Promises have been broken before this.” Daryl managed a light laugh. “No, Harold. It is quite impossible. I really don’t care to go, even if I could. An entrée into that kind of a social circle wouldn’t interest me in the least.”

“But you don’t understand,” said the young man, vexed, flashing a glare of annoyance at Alan. “For sweet pity’s sake, isn’t there some place we can go by ourselves for a minute? I want to explain!”

But he had scarcely finished before he discovered that the others had fairly melted away, and they were alone. Still Daryl did not move.

“You are acting like a naughty child!” said the young man angrily. “I haven’t time to argue with you, and I ought to go off and leave you and let you bear the consequences. If it weren’t that this means a lot to me in a social way I would. But if you are to be tied up with me”—he gave a quick glance around to make sure no one was listening and lowered his voice a trifle—“don’t get on your high horse just because of a silly fanatical idea you have—”

“Please don’t consider yourself tied up in any way,” said Daryl haughtily.

“Now listen, Daryl—!” He strode over to where she stood. “Don’t be a fool! Go upstairs and get into your things, quick! We can talk this out on the way! It’s a lot of silly nonsense anyway, and you might as well learn now as any time that people have to do as the world does or—!”

“You’re wasting your time, Harold, I’m
not going!”

“But Daryl, you see this means a lot to me financially.”

“Then you’d better hurry along,” said Daryl decisively. “I shouldn’t be an asset at all in a thing like this. I’m positively not going!”

Angrily he strode to the door; then he paused and gave a quick, searching look around, his eyes resting perplexedly on the silver pitcher of crimson roses glowing in the doorway.

“Didn’t my roses get here?” He frowned, fairly glaring at her.

“Oh yes, they came,” said Daryl sweetly, suddenly realizing the roses by her side. “Yes, they came Christmas night. The man nearly froze to death getting them here, but
they came!
They’re very beautiful! Thank you!” She said it most formally.

“Those aren’t the ones I ordered!” he growled. “I told him pink ones. I insisted on pink ones. He promised to get them.”

“They couldn’t get pink ones,” she said, still composedly. “He sent the best he had. He had trouble to find anybody who was willing to bring them out here. His own boy is sick and the drifts were awful!”

“I
hadn’t any trouble getting here. The way from Collamer is perfectly clear.”

“Yes?” said Daryl. “But the snowplow has been out here twice since then. Besides, you are in a sleigh. The boy was
walking!”

“Walking?” he said incredulously. “Seems to me that’s not very great efficiency in a florist.”

Daryl said nothing, and he stood a moment looking at her.

“Come on, Daryl, be a good sport and come! I came all this way after you!”

“No,” said Daryl firmly. “I don’t wish to come!”

“Mad yet? Oh, very well!” And he turned on his heel and stormed out the door, slamming it after him. Daryl could hear him whistling a jazzy song as he sprang into the sleigh and drove noisily away, the sleigh bells jangling irregularly in thin notes far apart. They were an ancient string of bells with some missing.

The house was very still for a moment after he had gone, as if the rest of the family had suddenly been spirited away, although in reality each individual member was awaiting developments, ready to efface themselves if that seemed the thing to do at that critical moment.

Then Daryl’s voice rang out clear and steady, under perfect control.

“Come on, folks, where are you? Are we going to finish our music or not?” And her violin swelled out in the tender melody.

“He shall feed His flock like a shepherd—”

They all trooped back smiling with relief and took their places, and Mother Devereaux with fine intuition slyly slipped the crimson roses into the dark dining room out of sight.

It was a rare evening, even happier than the day before. All the happier for the events that had threatened to wreck it. Twice that day alien forces had appeared and nearly overwhelmed them, but they had risen above them. Alan, as he stood near to Daryl singing while she played her violin, watched furtively her lovely profile and exulted in the way she was bearing herself. How she had risen to the occasion and put that fellow in his place! How coolly she had spoken, how clear-cut her sentences! There had been no hesitation. And he hadn’t been so cocksure of himself when he went away either! One could tell that by the very slam of the door as he left.

Oh, he would likely come back and make it up. Daryl was too lovely a girl to be dropped so easily! Perhaps he would learn his lesson for a time, perhaps not, but anyway he would make her think he had, and probably get her in the end, more the pity. But tonight, at least she was theirs, head held high, lips smiling, forced perhaps, but nonetheless lovely, thrilling in the music she was playing! She was riding on the top wave of victory, and Alan was glad and proud of her.

This one evening he would have to remember! He did not stop to think that she might have practically said the same thing of him, and that their experiences had been almost identical that day. Each had turned away an invitation in order to stay by the old farm and the little group, who because they had lived through fear and peril, and almost death together, seemed to have a closer bond between them than any of these others could offer.

The father and mother sitting back in the shadows listening and watching, realized it all, and prayed and trusted as they watched their girl tenderly. Lance as he sang cast now and then a veiled glance at his sister, wondering if she had got some sense at last. His indignation boiled at the thought of the great big handsome bully blowing in there and ordering his sister to get dressed and go with him without a moment’s notice, just as if he owned her! He was glad she had some spunk and refused to go. And to a dance, too! When he must know Daryl didn’t dance. Maybe she’d got her eyes opened at last, and seen that he wasn’t the angel from heaven she had supposed. Maybe Alan had been sent here to show her what a real man could be! But then he had a girl, too!
Some girl!
Red lips as if they were bleeding! Lighting a cigarette in their house without as much as by-your-leave! Why were people all mixed up this way? Well, Alan had given her the slip anyway. He was thankful for that!

And then his eyes dropped to the pretty brown head just below him. What a prize his girl was! Nobody in the world like Ruth! What a blessing God had given him in her! How every other young man was to be pitied that he didn’t have a girl like Ruth!

But nobody knew just what Daryl was thinking as she kept her eyes alight and her lips smiling, a bit of color, too, in her cheeks, playing on tirelessly whatever they asked her to play, as if she were enjoying it and could not get enough. And now and then meeting the light in Alan’s eyes with her own! How much was real and how much was forced in it all? Nobody quite knew. They were happy, glad that they were together, that neither outside influence had prevailed. Loyal friends they were, and this was their night.

It was late when they finally broke up and went to bed. Christmas was over for another year. The morning would bring changes they did not like to face tonight. Father Devereaux’s prayer was peculiarly tender as they knelt around the fire before saying good night.

Perhaps the watches of the night brought saner, sadder thoughts to some of them, but if so there was no sign on their faces the next morning when they gathered for breakfast.

Then after breakfast there was another reprieve. Bill Gates telephoned that Alan’s car was not quite ready, as they had been delayed so many times to go to the rescue of cars stalled in the storm. It would not be ready until late in the afternoon.

They tried again to persuade Alan to stay one more night, but he had been in telephone communication with his partner and felt he must go as soon as the car was ready.

BOOK: Substitute Guest
6.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Honeydew: Stories by Edith Pearlman
Aftersight by Brian Mercer
Alexandra, Gone by Anna McPartlin
Conceived in Liberty by Murray N. Rothbard
Once a Land Girl by Angela Huth
Sourdough Creek by Caroline Fyffe
Two Bar Mitzvahs by Kat Bastion with Stone Bastion