The Strange Proposal (19 page)

Sam was standing on the grass beside the path and regarding her with deep anxiety. Mary Elizabeth looked at him and began to laugh again.

“Sam,” she said when she could speak, “
what
did you do with the gentleman’s liquor?”

Sam looked sheepish and slowly began to grin.

“Put it where it can’t do any harm!” he said laconically.

“Where Sam? Where did you put it?”

“Down the drain!” he said, eyeing his cousin keenly to see if she was going to make him confess and apologize.

But Mary Elizabeth was laughing again. Somehow she had to laugh or cry, and she chose laughing. For Boothby Farwell had managed to unnerve her, as she knew he knew he would.

Sam stood still and regarded her with a half-fearful little grin. He wasn’t just sure of this cousin since those “city bums,” as he chose to call their recent guests, had been here. He couldn’t tell just how much Mary Beth thought of that poor fish Farwell. Maybe she was engaged to him after all, as his mother had once intimated, and if that was so, he was done with her. A girl who could have Mr. Saxon for a friend to go and get engaged to a rotten egg like that Boothby Farwell—well, if she was, he would go back to the city tomorrow. He wouldn’t stand for it, not a minute!

But he had seen a look of weariness and defeat in her eyes when she looked up through her laughter, and he sensed that something had happened more than he knew. He felt troubled for Mary Elizabeth. He was there to protect her, and what could he do?

So he stood on one cold foot after the other, beginning to shiver a little now. A strong breeze was coming up, and he was turning blue around his mouth and his teeth were chattering, but he stood there puzzling what to do.

Then Mary Elizabeth looked up again, saw him there, and stopped laughing.

“You’re a dear!” she suddenly said earnestly. “But you are catching cold, Buddie. Run up and change quickly, and you and I will take a run together on the sand and get the day out of our system!”

So Sam hurried off to his room, and in a very short time appeared reasonably attired, his hair giving evidence of having received what is known as a lick-and-a-promise, but his face full of eagerness.

They had quite a run on the sand and came back shining and a bit breathless.

“Did you get the afternoon mail from the box, Buddie?” asked Mary Elizabeth. “Dad said he was going to write me about that electrical work.”

“Why, no,” said the boy and sprang away to get it.

He came back with several letters in his hand and eagerness written all over him.

“Oh, gee!” he said. “There’s one for me from Mr. Saxon. That’ll be the new lesson. Won’t that be great! Now we can do some of it this evening, can’t we?”

“We surely can,” said Mary Elizabeth, looking up from her own handful of mail and giving a wistful glace at the address on Sam’s letter then turning back to her own and sorting it over, hoping there might be one for her also, though she knew there had been scarcely time since she had written.

They settled down on the piazza to read their letters, Mary Elizabeth lifting a furtive glance to the boy at her feet in his usual place on the top step. She watched his face change from bright eagerness to dismay. Then he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh gosh!
Good night!
Read that, Mary Beth!” And springing up, he cast his letter in her lap and dashed away up to his room.

W
ith consternation in her eyes and a great fear clutching at her heart, Mary Elizabeth stared after the excited boy. He leaped up the stairs three steps to a bound and banged his door after him. Then she picked up the letter and began to read.

Mary Elizabeth read the letter through twice that she might not miss anything. Then she put it in her lap and sat looking off at the sea, but seeing a little house in a Florida grove and a man carrying a heavy burden of sorrow and doing everything alone.

No, he wasn’t alone, either! There was God! His God!

Mary Elizabeth wished she knew God. How she would pray!

But not knowing God, what was there else that she could do? John Saxon had not yet had her letter when he wrote this one to Sam. It might not reach him till today. If he had to go to the post office for it, he might not get it even then. He had not asked her to pray. Perhaps he suspected she did not know how. And anyhow, until he got her letter, he would not know whether he had the right to call upon her. His letter to her had made it plain that he was not counting on her now that he knew who she was.

But, oh, there must be some way she could help! Doctors and nurses were what he needed! Money could bring them to him in a few hours by airplane! Perhaps he would not like her to help that way, but one could not stop on a matter of that sort when a life was at stake! She sat several minutes thinking rapid thoughts, making quick plans, unhampered by any question of cost. Then she got up and tiptoed upstairs to Sam’s door, intending to tap and ask him to come out, but when she reached the door she found he had banged it so hard after him that it had not latched and had sprung back again. It was open several inches, and she could see Sam kneeling beside his bed, burrowing his nose into the pillow and praying in a half-audible murmur. He evidently thought himself shut in alone with God.

“Oh, God! You promised! Anybody who abides could ask what he would and You’d do it. Mr. Saxon does that. You know he does! I’m not much at it, but I’m reminding You of Your promise. Do it for him, won’t You? Make his mother well! And You said if we ask in Christ’s name, You would do it for His sake! I’m reminding You! I’m not much good to You myself. I snitched those bottles and threw out that stuff. I hated those folks, too! But do it for Christ’s sake, please!”

The pleading voice was smothered in the pillows again, and Mary Elizabeth tiptoed away to her own room with a mistiness in her eyes.

She sat a long time listening to the stillness in the house and thinking out a plan that had come to her with breathtaking vividness. Dared she?

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, thinking out the details, weighing the possibilities. Perhaps he would not like her to meddle. Perhaps the plan was on too large a scale. And yet, if God were going to answer that prayer, He would have to do it through some individual, wouldn’t He? But she! She was in a rather awkward position. It might hurt John Saxon unnecessarily, as if she were flaunting her wealth and influence. Could it be done without her? She turned the question this way and that, all the time feeling more and more that the time was short and knowing that somehow she was going to do it. And then she thought of the boy, and after a moment called him softly.

There was silence for a moment, and then she heard a stirring, and presently he came in the dusk of the hall and stood by her door.

“Did you call, Mary Beth?” he asked in a subdued tone.

“Yes, Buddie! I’ve been thinking. How would you like to help answer those prayers?”

“Oh, boyyy!” came the answer in a long-drawn-out, wistful voice.

“Come here and sit down.” She drew a low hassock near the window, and he came and sat in the shadow, but his whole attitude was eagerness.

“I think we ought to get a doctor and a nurse down there just as quickly as possible, don’t you?”

“Sure! But how could we?”

She was still a minute, and then she said, “Sam, if you had a lot of money, what would you do with it?”

“Why, take a doctor and a nurse down there in an airplane,” answered the boy, without an instant’s hesitation.

“Exactly!” said Mary Elizabeth with a quick breath of satisfaction. “Well, I’m going to give you the money. He wouldn’t probably take it from me. I’m rather a stranger, you know, but if you did it, that would be different. You could say when it came to the questioning that you had some money that you were free to use, see?”

“I see! Oh, gee! Mary Beth, you’re a peacherine! Oh, gee!”

“Well, Buddie, we’ve got to work fast! Sickness doesn’t wait on time. The first thing is to get the right doctor. I don’t suppose you know who that doctor was that he mentions, do you?”

“Sure I do!” said Sam, on the alert at once. “He told us a lot about him down at camp. Told about his operations and all that, and how he had learned more from him than any other teacher in medical college. His name is MacKelvie, Martin MacKelvie. But the college would be closed now; it’s vacation time.”

“Still, it oughtn’t to be so hard to trace him, if he hasn’t gone abroad. That’s a rather unusual name.”

Mary Elizabeth was writing the name on a pad from her bedside table.

“Now, Bud, do you know the directions for getting there? Were you ever at Mr. Saxon’s house?”

“Sure thing,” said Sam eagerly, “so was Jeff! He stayed down and worked with Mr. Saxon after camp a lot.”

“Well, write out the directions and everything you know while I go telephone New York.”

Mary Elizabeth hurried down to the telephone booth and did some pretty good detective work for the next half hour. She was rewarded by discovering that Dr. Martin MacKelvie was at his summer cottage on Lake George. A little more clever work, assisted ably by the telephone operator, and Dr. Martin MacKelvie was on the wire.

Sam was just outside the booth listening, his heart in his eyes, and Mary Elizabeth would perhaps never feel a thrill more triumphant than when the doctor’s vibrant voice spoke: “Dr. MacKelvie speaking.”

Mary Elizabeth caught her breath and tried to steady her voice.

“Dr. MacKelvie, I’m a friend of John Saxon, who once was in your class at medical college. Do you remember him?”

“I certainly do!” came the ringing answer. “One of the best men I ever had the honor of instructing.”

Mary Elizabeth drew another breath tinged with relief and went on eagerly.

“John Saxon’s mother is very critically ill in Florida. He feels that you could save her life. We’re taking you and a nurse down in an airplane tonight if you’ll go, and we’ll gladly pay whatever fee you ask. Will you go?”

“What’s the matter with her?” came the crisp, keen question.

“We don’t know. He spoke of an operation he had seen you perform. That’s all we know about it. He is out in the country on his own, and the best doctors have all gone north. He said there was no one near whom he could trust.”

“Yes, I’ll go!” came the answer after an instant’s deliberation. “If John Saxon wants me, I’ll have to go, but I won’t charge him a cent.”

“That’s all right, Doctor,” said Mary Elizabeth with a ring in her voice. “We want to pay it for him.”

“We’ll talk about that later. How soon do we start, and where do I meet you?”

“As soon as we can get a plane. I’ll telephone at once and make arrangements. Wouldn’t it be better for the plane to pick you up? Where shall I tell them to come?”

A few minutes more of careful directions, telephone numbers exchanged, and the matter was arranged.

“Will you get a nurse, or shall I?” she asked.

“I’ll look after that! I’ll be ready inside of an hour. Let me know if you can’t secure a plane, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oh, I’ll get a plane,” said Mary Elizabeth with a lilt in her voice. “I know a pilot in New York. I’ll call you again as soon as I get him.”

“Oh, boy!” said Sam softly, out in the hall. Then he tiptoed into the dining room and suppressed the dinner bell that Susan was about to ring, while Mary Elizabeth called up the flying field. Now, if her man was only there!

Fifteen minutes later she came out of the telephone booth triumphant.

“He says he’ll go. He gave orders to have his plane ready inside half an hour. I heard him. Now, Sam, we’ve got to work fast. I’ll have to call Dad and Uncle. Do you want to go? Will Uncle Robert stand for it?”

“Do I wantta go?” echoed the boy. “Do I
wantta
go? But I don’t know about Dad. Do we havta tell him?”

“Yes, we have to tell him, Buddie. I couldn’t take that responsibility. Perhaps we’d better get it over with before we eat.”

So Mary Elizabeth went into the booth again and called her home, getting her father on the wire.

“Dad, I’m taking a doctor and a nurse in an airplane down to Florida tonight to a very sick friend. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Why can’t the doctor and nurse go by themselves?” asked her father.

“Because they can’t! There are circumstances that make it impossible. The sick friend is poor and might not accept the help if I didn’t go and engineer it. Dad, I haven’t time to explain. It’s a matter of life and death and I must go. The woman will die! I’ll write you all about it.”

“Whose plane are you going in?”

“Cousin Richie Wainwright’s.”

“Oh, well, that’s different. Why didn’t you tell me that before? All right, but wire me the minute you land?”

“Yes, Dad. And Dad, I’d like to take Sam. Do you think Uncle would mind? He’s crazy to go.”

“Well, ask him. I don’t know what he’ll say. You say there’s a nurse going along? And who’s your doctor?”

Mary Elizabeth answered his questions and then called her uncle.