The Strange Proposal (20 page)

“Uncle Robert, I want to ask you something very particular. I hope you’ll say yes. I’m taking a doctor and nurse down to Florida to a sick friend tonight. Cousin Richie is taking us in his big plane. I’d like to take Sam with me for company, if you are willing. He’s just crazy to go.”

Sam held his breath for the answer as he stood by the open door of the booth and waited for his father to consider. After a moment’s hesitation he answered, “Why, yes, I guess he can go, Mary Beth. A boy loves that sort of thing, I know. But Mary Beth, tell him if he wants to write to his mother—she’s in the mountains, you know—tell him to address his letter all right and then send it to me to mail. She’s rather shy about airplanes you know, and there’s no need to stir her up. And Mary Beth, wire me when you get there. Let me speak to Sam a minute!”

Sam, with a trembling hand, took the receiver and spoke in a serious grown-up voice.

“Yes sir?”

His father gave him a few general directions, bade him take care of his cousin and do just as she told him. He answered, “Yes sir!” “Yes sir!” “Yes sir!” in that grave, awed tone, and the matter was settled.

They hurried through their dinner, packed their suitcases, and drove to the nearest airport to await Cousin Richie and his plane. After arranging about the care of the car during their absence, they sat in it and talked in low tones, Sam going back over John Saxon’s stories about his wonderful doctor-teacher and friend, and Mary Elizabeth listening eagerly.

The moon rose and touched the airstrip with a silver sheen, filling the heavens with glory, and Sam sat quietly looking up into the sky, trying to realize that in a few minutes now he would be sailing along above in that sea of silver.

And at last, sooner than they had dared to hope, they saw the lights and heard the humming of the great bird that was to carry them away on their errand of mercy. As Mary Elizabeth sat there watching it arrive, she marveled that the intricate arrangements for this journey had been made so quickly and so easily. There were a thousand and one little things that might have happened to spoil it all. The doctor might not have been found, he might not have been willing to go, Sam might not have remembered his name. Some other doctor might have been difficult in more senses than one and might not have been acceptable. It was just a miracle that all had worked out as it had. That was it, a miracle, an answer to prayer! Then there were such things as answers to prayer! She would never again doubt that.

Mary Elizabeth liked the doctor’s face at once, and the nurse was a quiet elderly woman, who, it developed, often went with the doctor when he was called to very critical cases. She had a gentleness and tenderness, and strength and firmness written in her face, and the very look in her gray eyes gave Mary Elizabeth confidence.

The doctor asked a few questions, some of which Sam had to answer because he knew more about John Saxon’s affairs than any of them. Then, at the doctor’s advice, they settled down to rest.

But Mary Elizabeth, as she gave a look at the world below sailing in its silver sea and then closed her eyes, turned the page into the next day and the problems she would have to meet when she reached Florida.

And Sam, though ostensibly resting, did not take his eager, wondering eyes off that silver world below him until they actually dropped shut with sleep, and then as he slipped off into slumber, there was a prayer upon his young lips.

“Oh, God, keep her alive till we get there. Oh, God, show the doctor what to do, and save her, if it be Your will!”

I
t was after one o’clock when Mr. Robert Wainwright turned over for the thousandth time in his bed and stretched out his hand for the telephone, calling a familiar number with a sort of sheepish sound in his voice.

“That you, Sam? Well, I couldn’t sleep. Sorry to wake you up, but I thought it would be better now than to wait another hour or so. I was bound to do it before the night was over.”

“Yes, all right, Bob,” came the sleepy voice of Mary Elizabeth’s father. “I got used to that long ago. As I remember, the night you were born you began waking me in the night!”

“Shut up!” said Robert Wainwright. “You couldn’t remember that far back. You know I’m only a year younger than you are. And besides, I shall wake you if I like. I intend to keep on waking you up whenever I please the rest of my life.”

“Yes, Bob, I know I couldn’t expect anything else. What is it this time?”

“Well, it’s that pest of a Mary Elizabeth of yours. Whatever is this mad scheme she’s got up now, and pulled my Sam in with her? Where has she gone anyway?”

“Why, Florida! Didn’t she ask your permission? She said she was going to.”

“Yes, she asked it, and I said yes, he might go, but somehow since I got to bed, I got to thinking how Clarice would feel about it. She’d think of that awful wide sky and so many mountains to fall on and die, and all that bunk, you know, and I decided he’d better take the morning train back to the city and stay with me till she got back.”

“Too late, Bob, they left half an hour ago. Mary Liz’beth phoned me just before they started.”

“Yes, I found that out!” snapped his brother. “At least I was afraid I had. I called up that shore cottage of yours where they were supposed to be stopping and nobody answered. Don’t you keep any servants down there to answer the phone?”

“Why, yes, there’s the caretaker and his wife, but they likely sleep in the far corner of the house, and there isn’t any extension. But it’s too late, Bob. They’ve gone, and I wouldn’t worry. Mary Elizabeth promised to wire as soon as they arrived. And if you just turn over and snatch a nap or two, the wire will be here and the thing will be over. You can write Clarice he’s gone to Florida. She doesn’t need to know how he went. In fact you don’t need to say anything about it for a few days. She knows he’s at the shore. Why not let it go at that? Go to sleep, old man. It’s only a few hours now till they arrive.”

“Yes, but a lot of things could happen in a few hours!”

“There always could. Even if he was at home things could happen.”

“Yes, but Clarice would blame me!”

“I don’t see that. He’s half your son. Haven’t you a right to let your half go planing? He’s old enough to enjoy it. That’s the kind of thing boys like.”

“Yes, that’s what I figured when I said yes,” moaned Sam’s father.

“Well, figure it again. Richie’s along. No flier has a better record than Richie. He’ll look after them.”

“You’re sure he went?”

“Absolutely. He called me up and said he’d look out for them.”

“Well, that’s different. But all the same, that Mary Elizabeth of yours is a wild, erratic child and ought to be spanked.”

“Absolutely! Try and do it!”

“What started her off on this wild goose trip?”

“Some old lady dying for want of a special operation, and Mary Elizabeth seemed to think the people wouldn’t let the doctor in or something unless she went along. Sam seemed to be mixed in it, too, somehow, some friend of his. Saxon’s the name.”

“Saxon? Not anyone belonging to that friend of Jeff’s? Not the best man of Jeff’s wedding?”

“Might be. How should I know? Mary Liz’beth didn’t have time for details. She seemed to think your Sam was even more essential than the noted doctor they raked up.”

“Hmm! If it’s John Saxon, then I guess it’s my child that needs spanking. Thought yours was a party to it. She humors Sammy too much. He seems to be able to get anything out of her he wants. Look at the way he wheedled her into keeping him away from that lady-camp his mother wanted to send him to! But Sammy is just gone daffy about John Saxon!”

“John Saxon!” said Mary Elizabeth’s father. “She said it was a woman!”

“Perhaps it’s Saxon’s sister,” said Robert. “Likely somebody she knew in college. This Saxon is an intellectual fellow, I believe.”

“What kind of man is this Saxon, anyway? Is he down there now, do you suppose?”

“I wouldn’t be expected to know that,” said Robert, “but he’s an A-number-one lad all right, according to Jeff. Jeff thinks he’s the finest fellow he knows. That’s why he chose him for best man.”

“Hmm!” said Mary Elizabeth’s father thoughtfully. “Rich and conceited like all the rest, I suppose. I declare, I wish I could hide Mary Elizabeth away from them all. I haven’t liked any of ’em so far, but I suppose a mere father is not expected to interfere in such matters anymore. There’s that Farwell, I can’t stay in the room with him, he irritates me so. Thinks he’s the only authority on any subject you happen to mention, has a way of looking at you as if you hadn’t a right to exist, thinks all people over his own age are in their dotage.”

“Just so!” assented Uncle Robert. “I wondered what you were thinking about to tolerate that intimacy. If it were my affair, I’d read the riot act to Mary Beth, even if she is twenty-one. I wouldn’t have it! That fellow is a puppy! I could tell you some things—well—not over the phone, but I will when I see you!”

“Oh, yeah? Think I don’t know a few myself? But the thing is how to get rid of him? I’ve taken her to Europe with me twice hoping to shed him, and what does he do but trot along, or come afterward!”

“Why don’t you talk to her?”

“Well, you know Mary Elizabeth’s a chip off the old block. She’s like the rest of us. She likes to run her own affairs. I was afraid I might only make her stronger for him if I said anything against him, although she knows I don’t like him. At least, she ought to know. Man! I wish I knew where there were some real men. I’d like her to meet a few. I begin to think your Jeff is the only one left I know, and I wasn’t so sure of him awhile ago. But he seems to have settled down for sure now. What’s he going to do? Going to take him in with you?”

“That’s what I’ve planned to do, and he seems to think it’s about the best thing he knows.”

“Well, that’s great, Bob! I wish I had a son to come in and lift the burden off my shoulders. But now, how about this Saxon fellow? If he’s down there and my girl’s gone down, I suppose I’ll have to begin to worry about him. What’s he doing down there this time of year anyway? Did the sister or whoever she is get sick and they couldn’t come back north when everybody else did, or what?”

“Oh, they live down there, I understand. They have an orange grove.”

“You don’t say? I don’t see why anyone would stay so far south in the summer. What’s the idea?”

“Well, I don’t really know much about it, but I’ve surmised they couldn’t afford to travel around, and they’ve just settled there.”

“What’s the matter? Lost their money? What was it? Investment or real estate? Don’t tell me they were Florida boom people!”

“Nothing of the kind, Sam, they never had any money to lose. As I understand it, Saxon’s father is a retired minister or doctor or something professional, I’m not sure just what. They’re nice people, Jeff says. But you needn’t worry about Mary Elizabeth. This young Saxon’s poor as a church mouse and has his own way to make yet, so he’s out of the running so far as Mary Beth is concerned.”

“I don’t see why,” said Mary Elizabeth’s father, “not if she took a liking to him. She’s not a gold digger, and after all she’s got plenty of her own. But I’m not so sure I wouldn’t like him all the better for being poor. Money’s what’s spoiled most of the young men today. They’ve had too much of it, and they don’t know what it means to have to get down to hard work and earn it the way you and I did. I guess it’s a mistake to hand over a lot of money to your children before they’ve cut their eyeteeth. Your Jeff was an exception.”

“Yes, Sam, our children are always exceptions. However, you’re bearing me out in what I used to say long ago. Clarice always thought I kept Jeff on too small an allowance, but I felt with all that money coming to him from her father when Jeff would come of age, and all I would naturally leave him, he needed to get a little experience before he had the chance to handle it.”

“Well, you certainly did a good job of bringing him up,” said Jeff’s uncle heartily, “and I guess I can trust Mary Elizabeth, too, to use good common sense. And don’t you worry about Sammy. It’ll do him good to be on his own awhile. Anyway, you were going to send him to camp, what’s the difference?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” said the troubled father, “only Clarice makes such a fuss about airplanes, and if anything should happen, she’d never let me hear the last of it.”

“Well, nothing’s going to happen. Just make up your mind to that, brother. Get to sleep now and get a little rest, and by the time you wake up it won’t be long till a telegram comes. I suppose we’re a couple of old fools!”

“What! Couldn’t you sleep either?”

“No, blame it!” laughed Mary Elizabeth’s father. “But I’m going to now. Good night!”

B
oothby Farwell was exceedingly gloomy and silent as his party went on its way in search of amusement. When he spoke at all he was so disagreeable that presently the rest refrained from speaking to him any more than they could help.

At the first opportunity to quench their thirst, which by the time they had driven for an hour had become almost unbearable, the entire party indulged freely, Farwell drinking more deeply than the rest. When they arrived at the fashionable hotel a hundred miles up the coast, which was their rendezvous, he drank again and often during the evening. Also, he annexed a young woman of his acquaintance, Stephanie Varrell by name, whose startling artificial beauty was only rivaled by her daring conduct, and the whole party had a very merry time indeed. But during it all, and while he paid for most of it and was a participant in all their hilarity, he was morosely silent, glowering at them and answering only when he had to do so, with caustic sentences that might have been written with a pen dipped in vitriol.

Now Boothby Farwell was not a man who easily gave up. He had been heard to boast that he always got whatever he really went after. The only question in his mind was whether he really wanted to go after Mary Elizabeth enough to make the effort. There would be ways to get her, of course. He considered several, as he sat at tables with the happy group he was entertaining. There would be weak places in Mary Elizabeth’s armor. If money would not buy her, there were other ways. Her family was a great weakness of hers, the pride of heritage. Just how to get her through her family was not quite plain.