XXI
It was Jim Wheeler's turn to take up the shuttle. A girl met insome casual fashion; his own youth and the urge of it, perhaps theunconscious family indulgence of an only son--and Jim wove his bit andpassed on.
There had been mild contention in the Wheeler family during all thespring. Looking out from his quiet windows Walter Wheeler saw the youngworld going by a-wheel, and going fast. Much that legitimately belongedto it, and much that did not in the laxness of the new code, he laid tothe automobile. And doggedly he refused to buy one.
"We can always get a taxicab," was his imperturbable answer to Jim. "Ipay pretty good-sized taxi bills without unpleasant discussion. I knowyou pretty well too, Jim. Better than you know yourself. And if you hada car, you'd try your best to break your neck in it."
Now and then Jim got a car, however. Sometimes he rented one, sometimeshe cajoled Nina into lending him hers.
"A fellow looks a fool without one," he would say to her. "Girls expectto be taken out. It's part of the game."
And Nina, always reached by that argument of how things looked, now andthen reluctantly acquiesced. But a night or two after David and Lucy hadstarted for the seashore Nina came in like a whirlwind, and routed thefamily peace immediately.
"Father," she said, "you just must speak to Jim. He's taken our cartwice at night without asking for it, and last night he broke a spring.Les is simply crazy."
"Taken your car!" Mrs. Wheeler exclaimed.
"Yes. I hate telling on him, but I spoke to him after the first time,and he did it anyhow."
Mrs. Wheeler glanced at her husband uneasily. She often felt he was toosevere with Jim.
"Don't worry," he said grimly. "He'll not do it again."
"If we only had a car of our own--" Mrs. Wheeler protested.
"You know what I think about that, mother. I'm not going to have himjoy-riding over the country, breaking his neck and getting into trouble.I've seen him driving Wallace Sayre's car, and he drives like a fool ora madman."
It was an old dispute and a bitter one. Mr. Wheeler got up, whistled forthe dog, and went out. His wife turned on Nina.
"I wish you wouldn't bring these things to your father, Nina," she said."He's been very nervous lately, and he isn't always fair to Jim."
"Well, it's time Jim was fair to Leslie," Nina said, with familyfrankness. "I'll tell you something, mother. Jim has a girl somewhere,in town probably. He takes her driving. I found a glove in the car. Andhe must be crazy about her, or he'd never do what he's done."
"Do you know who it is?"
"No. Somebody's he's ashamed of, probably, or he wouldn't be soclandestine about it."
"Nina!"
"Well, it looks like it. Jim's a man, mother. He's not a little boy.He'll go through his shady period, like the rest."
That night it was Mrs. Wheeler's turn to lie awake. Again and again shewent over Nina's words, and her troubled mind found a basis in factfor them. Jim had been getting money from her, to supplement his smallsalary; he had been going out a great deal at night, and returning verylate; once or twice, in the morning, he had looked ill and his eyes hadbeen bloodshot, as though he had been drinking.
Anxiety gripped her. There were so many temptations for young men, somany who waited to waylay them. A girl. Not a good girl, perhaps.
She raised herself on her elbow and looked at her sleeping husband. Menwere like that; they begot children and then forgot them. They neverlooked ahead or worried. They were taken up with business, and alwaysthey forgot that once they too had been young and liable to temptation.
She got up, some time later, and tiptoed to the door of Jim's room.Inside she could hear his heavy, regular breathing. Her boy. Her onlyson.
She went back and crawled carefully into the bed.
There was an acrimonious argument between Jim and his father the nextmorning, and Jim slammed out of the house, leaving chaos behind him. Itwas then that Elizabeth learned that her father was going away. He said:
"Maybe I'm wrong, mother. I don't know. Perhaps, when I come back,I'll look around for a car. I don't want him driven to doing underhandthings."
"Are you going away?" Elizabeth asked, surprised.
It appeared that he was. More than that, that he was going West withDick. It was all arranged and nobody had told her anything about it.
She was hurt and a trifle offended, and she cried a little about it.Yet, as Dick explained to her later that day, it was simple enough. Herfather needed a rest, and besides, it was right that he should know allabout Dick's life before he came to Haverly.
"He's going to make me a present of something highly valuable, youknow."
"But it looks as though he didn't trust you!"
"He's being very polite about it; but, of course, in his eyes I'm acommon thief, stealing--"
She would not let him go on.
A certain immaturity, the blind confidence of youth in those itloves, explains Elizabeth's docility at that time. But underneath hersubmission that day was a growing uneasiness, fiercely suppressed.Buried deep, the battle between absolute trust and fear was beginning, abattle which was so rapidly to mature her.
Nina, shrewd and suspicious, sensed something of nervous strain in herwhen she came in, later that day, to borrow a hat.
"Look here, Elizabeth," she began, "I want to talk to you. Are you goingto live in this--this hole all your life?"
"Hole nothing," Elizabeth said, hotly. "Really, Nina, I do think youmight be more careful of what you say."
"Oh, it's a dear old hole," Nina said negligently. "But hole it is,nevertheless. Why in the world mother don't manage her servants--but nomatter about that now. Elizabeth, there's a lot of talk about you andDick Livingstone, and it makes me furious. When I think that you canhave Wallie Sayre by lifting your finger--"
"And that I don't intend to lift my finger," Elizabeth interrupted.
"Then you're a fool. And it is Dick Livingstone!"
"It is, Nina."
Nina's ambitious soul was harrowed.
"That stodgy old house," she said, "and two old people! A generalhouse-work girl, and you cooking on her Thursdays out! I wish you joy ofit."
"I wonder," Elizabeth said calmly, "whether it ever occurs to you thatI may put love above houses and servants? Or that my life is my own, tolive exactly as I please? Because that is what I intend to do."
Nina rose angrily.
"Thanks," she said. "I wish you joy of it." And went out, slamming thedoor behind her.
Then, with only a day or so remaining before Dick's departure, andJim's hand already reaching for the shuttle, Elizabeth found herselfthe object of certain unmistakable advances from Mrs. Sayre herself, andthat at a rose luncheon at the house on the hill.
The talk about Dick and Elizabeth had been slow in reaching the houseon the hill. When it came, via a little group on the terrace after theluncheon, Mrs. Sayre was upset and angry and inclined to blame Wallie.Everything that he wanted had come to him, all his life, and he did notknow how to go after things. He had sat by, and let this shabby-genteeldoctor, years older than the girl, walk away with her.
Not that she gave up entirely. She knew the town, and its tendencytoward over-statement. And so she made a desperate attempt, thatafternoon, to tempt Elizabeth. She took her through the greenhouses, andthen through the upper floors of the house. She showed her picturesof their boat at Miami, and of the house at Marblehead. Elizabeth waspolitely interested and completely unresponsive.
"When you think," Mrs. Sayre said at last, "that Wallie will have toassume a great many burdens one of these days, you can understand howanxious I am to have him marry the right sort of girl."
She thought Elizabeth flushed slightly.
"I am sure he will, Mrs. Sayre."
Mrs. Sayre tried a new direction.
"He will have all I have, my dear, and it is a great responsibility.Used properly, money can be an agent of great good. Wallie's wife can bea power, if she so chooses. She can look after t
he poor. I have a longlist of pensioners, but I am too old to add personal service."
"That would be wonderful," Elizabeth said gravely. For a moment shewished Dick were rich. There was so much to be done with money, andhow well he would know how to do it. She was thoughtful on the waydownstairs, and Mrs. Sayre felt some small satisfaction. Now if Walliewould only do his part--
It was that night that Jim brought the tragedy on the Wheeler house thatwas to lie heavy on it for many a day.
There had been a little dinner, one of those small informal affairswhere Mrs. Wheeler, having found in the market the first of the broilingchickens and some fine green peas, bought them first and then sat downto the telephone to invite her friends. Mr. Oglethorpe, the clergyman,and his wife accepted cheerfully; Harrison Miller, resignedly. Then Mrs.Wheeler drew a long, resolute breath and invited Mrs. Sayre. When thatlady accepted with alacrity Mrs. Wheeler hastily revised her menu,telephoned the florist for flowers, and spent a long half-hour withAnnie over plates and finger bowls.
Jim was not coming home, and Elizabeth was dining with Nina. Mrs.Wheeler bustled about the house contentedly. Everything was going well,after all. Before long there would be a car, and Jim would spend moretime at home. Nina and Leslie were happy again. And Elizabeth--not agood match, perhaps, but a marriage for love, if ever there was one.
She sat at the foot of her table that night, rather too watchful ofAnnie, but supremely content. She had herself scoured the loving cupto the last degree of brightness and it stood, full of flowers, in thecenter of the cloth.
At Nina's was a smaller but similar group. All over the village at thattime in the evening were similar groups, gathered around flowers andcandles; neatly served, cheerful and undramatic groups, with the housedoors closed and dogs waiting patiently outside in the long springtwilight.
Elizabeth was watching Nina. Just so, she was deciding, would she someday preside at her own board. Perhaps before so very long, too. A littleseparation, letters to watch for and answer, and then--
The telephone rang, and Leslie answered it. He did not come back;instead they heard the house door close, and soon after the rumble ofthe car as it left the garage. It stopped at the door, and Leslie camein.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but I guess Elizabeth will have to go home. You'dbetter come along, Nina."
"What is it? Is somebody sick?" Elizabeth gasped.
"Jim's been in an automobile accident. Steady now, Elizabeth! He's hurt,but he's going to be all right."
The Wheeler house, when they got there, was brightly lighted. Annie wascrying in the hall, and in the living-room Mrs. Sayre stood alone, astrange figure in a gaudy dress, but with her face strong and calm.
"They've gone to the hospital in my car," she said. "They'll be therenow any minute, and Mr. Oglethorpe will telephone at once. You are towait before starting in."
They all knew what that meant. It might be too late to start in. Ninawas crying hysterically, but Elizabeth could not cry. She stood dry-eyedby the telephone, listening to Mrs. Sayre and Leslie, but hardly hearingthem. They had got Dick Livingstone and he had gone on in. Mrs. Sayrewas afraid it had been one of Wallie's cars. She had begged Wallie totell Jim to be careful in it. It had too much speed.
The telephone rang and Leslie took the receiver and pushed Elizabethgently aside. He listened for a moment.
"Very well," he said. Then he hung up and stood still before he turnedaround:
"It isn't very good news," he said. "I wish I could--Elizabeth!"
Elizabeth had crumpled up in a small heap on the floor.
All through the long night that followed, with the movement of feetthrough the halls, with her mother's door closing and the ghastlysilence that followed it, with the dawn that came through the windows,the dawn that to Jim meant not a new day, but a new life beyond theirliving touch, all through the night Elizabeth was aware of two figuresthat came and went. One was Dick, quiet, tender and watchful. And onewas of a heavy woman in a gaudy dress, her face old and weary in themorning light, who tended her with gentle hands.
She fell asleep as the light was brightening in the East, with Dickholding her hands and kneeling on the floor beside her bed.
It was not until the next day that they knew that Jim had not beenalone. A girl who was with him had been pinned under the car and haddied instantly.
Jim had woven his bit in the pattern and passed on. The girl wasnegligible; she was, she had been. That was all. But Jim's death addedthe last element to the impending catastrophe. It sent Dick West alone.