The Strange Proposal (31 page)

The clerk gave a quick, startled look at Sam, met a deadly wink that only Sam’s eye knew how to give, and sauntered back slowly, answering, “Couldn’t say. There might be, and there might not be. You’d havta go and see.” Slowly he went at the work of preparing the drink and looked back where Sam had been standing. But Sam had made good his escape, out the back door.

Good night! thought Sam again. I can’t get out there ahead of him on this bike. I gotta do something! If he gets there before we get started, he’ll gum the works entirely! Good night!

He gave a quick look at the big blue car with its silver trim, took in its direction from the window by the soda counter, and ventured forth furtively.

Darting out into the road opposite the car, he stooped down, his bicycle leaning against his back as if he were doing something to its pedals, and reaching out a quick hand back of him, he turned a tiny cap on the rear tire of the big blue car. A soft whistling sound ensued. Sam slid a length to the front wheel and did the same thing to that. Then with a furtive glance toward the drugstore window, noting that the enemy was still standing with his back to the window, sipping his drink in a leisurely way, Sam slid his wheel around behind the car and doctored the other two tires, in spite of having to struggle with one cap that resisted.

He caught up his own wheel then and whirled out of sight, taking a shortcut through the woods, which, though bad for bicycling, would at least hide him from immediate view.

Sometimes he had to jump down and run beside his bicycle to make any time at all, until he came into the road again and could take the rickety boardwalk. Then he raced along madly. How long would it take for that dumb fish to find a garage and get his tires pumped up again? Could he make it to the house and get the folks to start at once?

The alcohol bottle, in its thin paper wrapping, bumped around in the wire basket that was fastened to the front of the wheel. He must look out. If he broke the bottle, there would be more delay.

The last half mile he was puffing like a porpoise, and he looked like anything but a neat boy prepared to go on a journey.

Sam arrived just as they were carrying Mrs. Saxon across from the house on a mattress. John was carrying the head, Cousin Richie the foot, the nurse and Mary Elizabeth on either side.

Sam held his breath till they had lifted her up and carried her into the plane. Then he slid the old bicycle into its place in the garage and came on the run to help Mr. Saxon, who was trying to get along by himself to save trouble.

As he upheld Father Saxon he cast a furtive glance down the road, looking for a flashy blue car with silver edges, but all was quiet and empty on the highway so far.

“Is there anything else in the house to go?” he asked Cousin Richie when he had seated his passenger comfortably. “There’s some poor fish down at the village on his way to find Mary Beth, and I happen ta know she don’t want him. Can’t ya get started before he gets here?”

Cousin Richie cast a speculative eye at Sam, a keen glance at Mary Elizabeth, who was smiling down and giving some direction to John, and then said, “Sure thing, son. Run after John and help him bring the rest of the things. There aren’t many, and I’ll get the engine ready.”

Sam scuttled off, his eye down the road again.

Three minutes more and they were back with the last load, and nobody in sight yet. John was lingering to say a few last words to Eric Tanner. Would he never be done?

At last they were off. Sam felt the smooth vibration of the engine, the slow movement that seemed to be scarcely motion at all, for the ride was to be a quiet one, not to excite the invalid. And now at last they were rising, a little, and a little, and now the ground was really quite far below them. Sam drew a deep breath.

Then, looking down the road from the height that gave him a better view, he saw a great blue car flash into view, its shining trim casting sharp brightness in the sun. Sam looked down and grinned.

He cast one more look at the ground, measured the possibilities of turning around and going back again for callers and decided they were nil, then he slid over to Mary Elizabeth’s side, pointing down.

“There goes that poor fish of a Farwell, coming to call. Do you wantta go back and entertain him?” he said into her ear.

Mary Elizabeth gave a quick glance back and saw the bright car slowing down before the bungalow, saw Eric Tanner coming out to meet it, and a look of amazement grew upon her face. It couldn’t be that Boothby had found out where she was and had dared to follow so far! It must be another car, like his, of course.

“What makes you think that is Mr. Farwell, Sam?” she asked.

“Because I saw him down at the village when I went after the alcohol. He was getting a drink and asking the way out here! He wanted to know if the Saxons had company, a girl and a red-haired boy!”

Sam’s face and voice expressed the scorn and disgust he did not put into words.

“But I don’t understand,” said Mary Elizabeth. “Why didn’t he get here before you did? It’s a long way into the village, and you had only a bicycle!”

“Sure, I fixed him so he couldn’t. I let the air out of his tires!”

“Sam! You didn’t! Not
really?
”

“Sure I did! I wasn’t going to have the poor dumb fish coming here, gumming things all up just as we were getting off.”

Suddenly Mary Elizabeth put her head down and laughed and laughed. Then she said, “Sam, there are a great many things I have to thank you for, and this is not the least of them. Oh, Sam, Sam, for a person who knows as much about the Bible as you do, you certainly are the limit!”

Then Mary Elizabeth’s eyes turned and rested with great tenderness on John Saxon, who was bending over his mother, smiling and holding her hand, helping her through the first startling idea of riding in the air.

The great bird lifted and soared aloft, smoothly, evenly, and suddenly the young man who had come out seeking a wild free thing, to bind and bend it to his will, found that his bird had flown away, and wildly he lifted a futile shout and raised his hand in a gesture of command. Then he ran with all his might forward toward where the plane had been, dashing into the deep untrodden sand without looking where he stepped, and wallowed along, screaming and shaking his fist up toward the vanishing plane. Suddenly his head and shoulders were going faster than his feet could get there, and the inevitable happened. Boothby Farwell went down ignominiously in the sand and literally bit the dust, sand in his eyes and sand in his ears and sand in his mouth, a sorry figure, stunned, and blinded, and so angry he was stupefied for the instant.

And the girl he was chasing did not even see him. She had eyes for only one man, and he was up in the air with her.

Only Sam saw the downfall of his enemy and sat grinning with all his might and finally laughing aloud in a great boy roar, but the engine drowned the sound, and nobody was the wiser.

T
he great plane came to earth on the smooth, broad beach almost exactly in front of the Wainwright summer estate, taxiing over the hard white sand as lightly as over a marble floor, and the invalid who had been greatly intrigued and unexpectedly invigorated by her flight scarcely knew she had lit upon earth yet.

Almost at once, there appeared around the plane, Mary Elizabeth’s father, Sam’s father, Frank Bateman wheeling a gurney, and Susan Bateman, her hands wrapped in a neat white apron, standing respectfully in the background. It had the air of an occasion, almost of a celebration, and Mary Elizabeth’s eyes shone with satisfaction as she looked upon the group. Not one of them was missing! Dad had been equal to the occasion, as she knew he would be, as he always had been since she could remember, and Uncle Robert Wainwright was right behind him. They were great brothers, those two, of the House of Wainwright, and Mary Elizabeth was proud of them.

Then her glance went to John Saxon, who had suddenly straightened up from assuring his mother they had landed, and was taking in the situation. His face was tense with a dawning comprehension of what all this might mean, suffused suddenly with deep embarrassment and then a quick misty realization of the kindness that had prompted it all.

Oh, he had met them both, those Brothers Wainwright, at the wedding; big, successful, kindly, blustering, but polished men of the world. Under the guise of a best man he had shaken their hands and let their hearty greetings at introduction roll off from his consciousness as something that didn’t mean a thing to him personally, being only a part of the wedding ceremonies.

But now, suddenly brought face-to-face with them in a personal way, with the weight of a great debt of gratitude to them hung about his neck, John Saxon was overwhelmed.

Mary Elizabeth saw and understood. It was like Mary Elizabeth to understand, even if he hadn’t been John Saxon, and dearly beloved. Mary Elizabeth had an understanding mind. And quickly she moved over to stand beside him and share the meeting, share the experience of whatever her man was passing through and take the sting with him, protect his pride with her own hands and her own smiles, so that its brave plumage should not be permanently damaged.

“It’s Dad and Uncle Bob!” she exclaimed, sliding her hand into John’s. “Oh, aren’t they the old darlings, John! They would leave their business and rush down to have fun with us when we arrive! They’re just like kids! They couldn’t wait to see you and to help all they could!”

Somehow her words, and her shining eyes that she lifted to John’s face, took the sting from the mortification and suddenly put him and his honored father on a level with the whole Wainwright tribe. It made him forget that he was poor and struggling and utterly presuming to dare to have aspired to the hand of Mary Elizabeth Wainwright, heir to millions, and choice of the whole universe of women.

Suddenly his hand folded the hand of Mary Elizabeth close in his own, and looking down into her shining, happy eyes, he felt for the first time utterly that he and she were one and that it didn’t matter if those two relatives out there on the sand had been a whole battalion of royal soldiers come out to battle with him for a princess. She would never leave him, nor would he have to let her go, for they belonged together, now and through eternity.

It was Sam who alighted first and did the honors of the ship as if he had been commander.

“Well, here we all are!” he announced importantly. “How are ya, Dad? Hello, Uncle Sam! All ready for us, aren’t ya? Well, we’re all okay!”

His father enveloped him quickly in a strong, possessive arm and said with a relieved voice, “Sure! I knew you would be! Great son you are, kid! I’m proud of you. How’s the invalid?”

“Oh, she’s fine. The doctor says it did her good! She’s a good sport, she is!” swaggered Sam, as if Mrs. Saxon were a protégée of his.

Then all was quiet orderliness. Mary Elizabeth’s father came forward and grasped John Saxon’s hand as he alighted from the ship.

“Glad to see you! So good you could bring your mother right here. Nothing like sea air. Now, here’s the stretcher. Think this will be comfortable for her? Get her right up to the house in a jiffy and into her bed. How do you want the stretcher set? Head this way? Frank can wheel it and we’ll steady it, or we could carry it if necessary. This the doctor? Glad to meet you, Doctor. Great work you’ve been doing, I hear. Now, we’re here to serve, just tell us how to move to cause the least excitement. And we’ve brought a wheelchair for Mr. Saxon—”

Quiet, pleasant, businesslike voice, steady, composed air as if they were all one family bent on doing the very best for the invalids. He was perfect, thought his daughter, listening with overflowing heart of joy. Dear Dad!

With the least noise and fuss possible, the little procession formed, bearing the invalid gently, steadily up the beach, into the great grilled gateway, under the whispering pines, and into the hospitable old-fashioned mansion.

“I’m Mary Elizabeth’s father,” said Samuel Wainwright to the invalid just before they started, “and we’re very glad to welcome you. Now we aren’t going to bother you with any more introductions today, till you’re rested from your journey!” Mother Saxon lifted her sweet eyes and smiled, and the brothers dropped behind to escort Father Saxon in his wheelchair as if he were a king among his subjects.

So they came down from the sky and went up from the sea, and the old Wainwright summer home came to life after many years of quietness.

Before she could possibly realize what was happening, Mother Saxon was tenderly lifted and laid in the softest bed on which she had ever been and was swallowing a glass of orange juice in a fragrant darkened room, with flowers dimly lifting fairy faces in quiet corners. There was the dull gleam of old mahogany, the smooth feel of linen sheets and pillowcases, the soft murmur of whispering pines above, the deep undertone of the ocean not far away, all mingling softly into a delicious, sleepy atmosphere, with the memory of Mary Elizabeth’s soft lips brushing her forehead, and her boy John’s tender pat on her hand. Could a mortal happy woman keep awake under those circumstances?

The doctor tiptoed in, touched her wrist, and her brow, winked in satisfaction at the nurse and nodded his approval, tiptoed out again, and she never knew it.

Out around the side of the house, Mother Saxon’s beloved sat in a deep, comfortable chair with his hurt foot on a cushion and enjoyed a real old-time talk with men of his own age and education, discovering mutual friends, similar experiences, and links of their younger days that made them friends at once. Till Mary Elizabeth and his son, John, suddenly descended upon him and swept him off to the little room adjoining the invalid’s room and made him take a nap.

Cousin Richie had taken the doctor up the beach fifty miles or so in his plane to visit a convalescent patient about whom he was a bit anxious, Mary Elizabeth and John had gone off down the beach hand in hand, and it was then that young Sam had his innings, sitting on the side steps with his father and his uncle Sam, who were lying back in two big old beach chairs, listening to him proudly.