She dreamed her daydreams as she rode, studying interestedly the people who were her fellow travelers, till by and by they all got off, and then the car wound around between pleasant houses, large lawns, smooth roads, and an occasional gateway covered with ivy; it was pretty out this way, but of course it might not be beautiful like this in Lynwood.
Suddenly the conductor came to her and told her that Lynwood was the next stop. She got off, her heart beating as wildly as if she were about to seek her fortune.
There was no one about at Lynwood Station, a little vine-covered stone structure pretty as a picture. There were woods all about and a road that wound across the tracks, down into the woods and up a hill. She wondered which was Rosedale Lane. Then she spied a flagman and went to ask him. He pointed her down the hill and through the woods, and she started out half fearfully. Perhaps she ought not to do this all alone. Perhaps she should have waited for Melissa. Nevertheless, she hurried on. She crossed a little rustic bridge and passed the more closely wooded district, and now she came out on a broad way with high hedges on either side that almost hid the houses behind them. The road wound on, and presently there was a sign at the turning, Rosedale Lane, and she knew that she was right. But there were no numbers. How would she know when she came to the right house? In fact, she must be out of her way somehow, for these were all large, fine houses. Probably estates.
And now the way wound up a hill, decidedly up and up. Her city-bred feet were tired, and her back ached. The sun was growing warm, and perhaps she was going the wrong way after all, who knew?
She heard a car coming and, stepping aside to let it pass, looked at the driver with a half-hesitant appeal. Dared she ask the way?
It was a young man driving a smart little roadster. He wore no hat and had the air of a college boy. She ventured, and he slowed down and looked at her interestedly.
"Would you tell me if I am on my way to the Forsythe house?"
"The Forsythe house? Sure. You're right. I'm going right there. I live across the road. Hop in and I'll take you. This hill isn't so good on a hot day."
Phyllis hesitated.
"Oh, is it far? I needn't trouble you. You're very kind, I'm sure."
But the youth had jumped out and was opening the other door of the car for her. Phyllis was troubled. Ought she to get in? Wasn't this exactly the same thing that Melissa had done and got into loads of trouble? Getting into a car with a strange young man? Why, it wasn't respectable. It was what they called being "picked up." Still, he said he lived across the road, and if he was to be a neighbor, why, it was probably different.
"It's about a quarter of a mile farther," said the youth with another engaging smile. "Better hop in. I'll have you there in a second."
And against her worst convictions she got in. She wondered as she did so whether all the Challengers were weak-minded when it came to refusing rides in beautiful cars. It couldn't be that this young man had told her the truth, for he looked far too opulent to live across the road from any house the Challengers would be likely to inherit.
But by this time they were whizzing up the hill in great shape, and the engaging smile was turned on her again.
"Are you one of the Forsythes?" he asked.
"Why, no, not exactly," said Phyllis. "We're relatives."
"Say! That's great! It's been closed so long I certainly would like to see that house open."
"Did you know the Forsythes?" she asked timidly.
"No, I was just a kid when that house was built, but I remember my mother watching it and talking about the time when the people would come there. She wanted some neighbors. She was awfully lonesome here."
They topped the hill, and he pointed to a large light-gray stone house, ornate and lovely, set on the top of a little hill, its lawn sloping down to a miniature lake at the foot that Phyllis suspected was a swimming pool.
"That's where I live," said the boy, pointing with a wave of his hand. "It's still lonesome. "Nobody in it but me and my kid brother now. And the servants, of course."
"Oh, isn't your mother--" she stopped, dismayed. She ought not to ask personal questions.
"No, she's dead," said the boy gloomily. "Died three years ago. I haven't been here much except vacations since. I've been mostly in prep schools, and college. I've been one year to college. But I don't like where I was. I'm thinking of staying home this winter and going into the city to the university. My dad doesn't care what I do. He's in Europe. He got married again, and they live abroad. I don't like her, so I stay here."
Phyllis looked at him in dismay.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said. "I don't see how you do without a mother or a father, either! I have both, and they're wonderful!"
"Say! That must be great!" said the boy. "I'd like that. I haven't really had a home since Mother died. Say, you're different from most girls I see. Are you coming out here to live? I wish you would. We could have some great times. But then if you've got a father and mother like that, they wouldn't let you have a look at me. You see, my father was divorced from my mother when I was only a kid. That's not so good, you know. But I can't help it."
The boy settled into gloom for a moment again but then roused to point to the other side of the road at a stone house, long and low, with wide arched stone porches, set against a background of hemlock and plumy pines.
"There's the Forsythe place!" he said. "I'll drive you up to the door. It's always been kept up pretty well. I know the caretaker, but he's away in the city today. I took him down to catch the trolley. Have you a key?"
But Phyllis was looking in dismay.
"Oh, there must be some mistake. That couldn't be the house. It's only a small house, I'm very sure. That's an estate. The lawyer distinctly said it wasn't an estate."
"Oh, no, that's not an estate. That's just a house. There aren't more than three acres there. That's the house all right. You see, I was born right here and I know."
"Oh, but--why, it can't be. There must be some other Forsythes. Perhaps down at the other end of the road. Doesn't Rosedale Lane go over the other side of the tracks? I must have turned the wrong way."
"No, it just starts by the station and comes up here. And there isn't another Forsythe family within miles around here that I ever heard of. Why, here, didn't you say you have a key? Well, the proof of the pudding's in the eating, isn't it? Go try your key and see if it fits. If it opens the door, it's your house, isn't it?"
"Well, but," said Phyllis, quite bewildered, "I was only looking for a little house. I was afraid it wasn't going to be big enough for our family. There were only two of them in the Forsythe family, you know. They wouldn't have had a great big house like this, would they?"
"Why sure, why not? They must have had money enough to make it just as they wanted it. They're the right Forsythes, all right. They had only one son, and he was killed in the war. That was just when they built this house. They were expecting him home, and then when he got killed they went abroad and never did come back. Mrs. Forsythe died, and he stayed over there. That's the last I heard of them. Nathan O. Forsythe, that's the name. Same people, aren't they?"
"Yes, that's the name, but it doesn't seem possible."
"Do you know if Forsythe is coming back?" asked the young man.
"Oh, he's dead," said Phyllis sadly. "He's left the house to my mother."
"Great!" said the boy. "Are you coming here to live?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Phyllis. "It seems too wonderful. My father is a college professor. We haven't usually lived in such large houses. But it would be--well, I can't tell anything till Mother comes back."
"Say, I hope you do come here to live," said the boy wistfully. "It would make life less lonesome just to see some lights on the other hill. I stay home at night sometimes and wander around the rooms and think what it would be like to have folks, and then I look out the window. There's a game room down in our basement, and the swimming pool, and the tennis court, but somehow I hardly ever use them. You don't do things
like that alone. Once in a while I get some of the fellows from college to stay a day or so, but they think it's slow out here."
"Oh, how can they?" she said. "I think it's the most beautiful place I ever saw."
"Well, what do you say? Want to try your key?"
"Oh, I'd like to see in there, but it seems almost like housebreaking."
He laughed and swung his car into the drive. They swept up under a porte cochere to a wide oak door set about with many thick hemlocks.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Phyllis got out and whirled around on the landscape, looking off to the beautiful hills and then to the great massive stone house across the way, quite on the other little hill by itself.
"It would be wonderful to live here and look over to a great beautiful palace like that," she said.
"Palace nothing, but I hope you do. I like you. If the rest of your family is just half as good, it would be wonderful!"
"We've all been praying for a house in the country," mused Phyllis, almost forgetting the presence of this nice boy, "but we never expected to have God hand us out a place like this. I can't believe it!"
The boy stared at her.
"Do you pray? Do you believe in praying?"
Phyllis brought her gaze back from the scenery and looked at him thoughtfully.
"I didn't till lately. But we had a lot of trouble, and--well, somehow we got started to praying through my little sister. We all prayed and----things happened. This is one of them. I couldn't help believing in it now."
The boy continued to stare.
"I never did care for girls much," he mused. "But--well----I certainly hope you come here to live! What do you say, shall we go in now?"
Phyllis took out her keys, and the young man opened the door. It let them into a wide hall, oak paneled and floored. There was a glass door at the other end through which the sunlight poured, and the grass crept close to a wide stone paving just beyond.
On either side of the hall were two wide oak-beamed, paneled rooms, reaching comfortably the depth of the house, and arched windows with deep window seats that suggested cushions and a book. The room to the left had an immense fireplace and bookcases from floor to ceiling with glass doors across the whole outside wall, except for the windows. The room to the right had two great windows with another fireplace between, and at its end a wide arch gave a view of a dining room with its built-in china closets and bay window.
Phyllis lifted her eyes to a noble oak staircase sweeping up a wide curve.
"This is perfect!" she breathed. "But--it looks as if somebody was just moving in."
"That's it," said the boy gloomily. "They were when they went away. All these are their things."
"I know," said Phyllis softly. "It seems too bad."
She walked quietly up the stairs, touching the dusty handrail and marveling at its beauty of line.
There were six bedrooms on the second floor, besides a room that the boy designated as the servant's room, though it looked palatial to Phyllis. They all had views that were breathtaking in their loveliness. Phyllis looked and at last covered her face with her hands and rubbed her eyes.
"I just can't think it's real!" she said, her eyes shining. The boy beamed also.
"Say, it's great having you like it that way. My, I'm glad I met you on the road. I wouldn't have missed this for anything. Say, how about coming over to my house and having a bite to eat? We always have plenty of cake on tap."
"Oh, no, thank you," said Phyllis in alarm. "I must go right home now. It's time to get dinner, and my sisters will wonder where I am."
"Have you sisters? Are they like you?"
"I have two, but they're not like me. They're both pretty and have golden hair, especially Rosalie, the youngest. I'm the dark one."
"Pretty! Oh!" he said in a tone that made Phyllis's cheeks glow at his admiration. Then he asked, "Is your name Forsythe?"
"Oh, no, my name is Challenger, Phyllis Challenger."
"That's a storybook name. I like it. I never knew a girl named Phyllis. Well, my name's Garrison, Graham Garrison. Say, come on over and see my house."
"Oh, I really couldn't this time," said Phyllis. "I'd love to, but I know Mother wouldn't think I should. Perhaps, if we come out here to live, sometime when Mother gets here I could come. But now I must hurry right back to Melissa."
"Who is Melissa? Your sister? And Rosalie you said your little sister was. Well, why don't you bring the whole bunch out, then?"
"I'm not sure," said Phyllis. "We may have to wait till Mother gets back. She went to see my brother who is in college. He got hurt in an accident--has a broken leg--and she went last night. I don't suppose we can do anything till she gets here."
"Say, I hope she comes back soon. How about letting me take you back to the city?"
"I mustn't," said Phyllis, shaking her head. "I've got to be square with what Mother would like. If she were here, it would be different. She might say yes, but as it is, I can't."
"Well, I'm taking you down to the trolley anyway. I'm sure she wouldn't want you to walk alone." He grinned, and Phyllis said: "Well, perhaps."
When Phyllis was back on the trolley speeding toward the city, she began to wonder at the ease with which she had conversed with the attractive young stranger. Wasn't that just what Melissa had done and got into trouble? Yet he seemed only a nice boy. Well, anyway, he hadn't done or said a thing out of the way except to try and tell her she was pretty, and that of course was only kidding. She put any uneasiness she had felt out of her mind and began to work out a plan of action.
Melissa had not come back yet when she reached home, and it was not quite time for the children to come from school. She got herself a bit of lunch and sat down to write to her mother:
Dear Mother,
I went to see Father yesterday, and he was delighted to see me. I was surprised how well he looks. Isn't it going to be wonderful to have him home again?
When I got home, Melissa and Rosalie had the dishes all washed--we had slept late, so dinner was late--and Mr. Jenifer was there with his car. He has a nice car. And he stayed to supper with us and took us all to his church. We liked the minister very much. Bob liked him, too.
This morning I went out to see your "inheritance" house. I think it would do very nicely for us for a while. It has a fireplace and bedrooms enough so we could all get along, and there is a nice room for Father to rest. There would be room enough for a garden, too.
I was thinking, Father says he will soon be allowed to come home, perhaps sooner than you expected. Would you like it if Melissa and I were to go out and clean the house and get things in some shape so we could go there in a hurry in case Father is ready to come home sooner, or in case Steve has to come home? We could do that, and then if you didn't like it, we could look around for something else later. There seems to be beds and things enough for us to get along awhile without getting the storage ones. Let me know at once if you would like us to dust it up a little in case of an emergency.
We all miss you very much, but we hope you are having as happy a time as you could under the circumstances, and we send Steve our love and hope he is much better. Father says don't mind him, he is almost well, and he's glad for Steve to have you for a while. He says to tell Steve it's tough luck, but it will all come out right pretty soon he hopes.
Lots of love. I must put the potatoes on for hash now.
Lovingly,
Phyllis
P.S. Rosalie has just come in from school. She got a hundred in her spelling. She sends you a hug.
Melissa and Bob came in soon, and as they were all hungry they decided to have dinner as soon as they could get it on the table; but they had scarcely got seated before Jenifer arrived.
"I'm going to try not to be a pest," he said, "but I had to go out to one of the suburbs to leave some blueprints for a man and I thought perhaps you folks would like to go along, seeing you are all alone. I haven't anything else to do this evening, and we can stay out till you g
et sleepy, ride as far as you please. Perhaps you'd like to stop at a roadhouse somewhere and get a drink?" He looked at Melissa and grinned mischievously.
They all laughed and accepted the invitation with delight.
It was Phyllis who proposed that they leave the dishes and go at once while it was still daylight.
"Yes, it will be dark soon tonight. March is almost over, you know. It is spring," said Jenifer. "It couldn't be better weather for a ride. But get your coats. It may be cool before we get back. There's going to be a wonderful moon. Is there any place you'd like especially to go? I don't have to be five minutes in Glen Park, and then we can tour anywhere."
"Oh, anywhere will be lovely, it doesn't matter," said Melissa happily.
"But, yes, there is," said Phyllis. "There's a place I very much want to go. I was wondering how I was going to get you all there. It's a house I heard of."
"Oh, Phyllis," said Melissa, "don't let's go house hunting the only chance we have to take a ride!"
"That's all right; we'll get the ride in, too," said Jenifer, smiling assurance at Phyllis.
"That's all right," said Phyllis with a toss of her head and a grin. "It's a pretty ride all right. I've been there! No, I'm not going to tell you where it is. I'll tell Mr. Jenifer alone, and he can be the judge whether we shall go or not."
They hurried upstairs for their coats, and Phyllis had a moment's conference with Jenifer. Then they all piled out into the car joyously, just as if there never had been a time a few short days ago when they were almost starving and some of them were sick and all of them were sad.
Jenifer had Melissa beside him; Phyllis and Bob with Rosalie between them were in the backseat, and Phyllis was dimpling and smiling to herself as they skimmed along the road out of the city and into a beautiful countryside. Occasionally she slipped her hand into her bag to make sure a couple of keys were quite safe, but she said nothing more about house hunting.
"Isn't it wonderful here!" exclaimed Melissa as they drove along into the finer suburbs and delved down into a road that went straight through the woods. "Oh, I love it here!"