CHAPTER X
A MAN OF STRAW
The shower had lifted and was moving away down the valley, a gray mistof rain with a slowly following flood of sunshine. Oliver got up andsaid without enthusiasm:
"We must go now, we have an errand we must do. Come along, Janet."
She rose to go with him but looked back wistfully several times as shewent, with lagging feet, down the hill. She had wished that the storymight last forever, so that she need not face Anthony Crawford at theend of it.
They said nothing to each other as they climbed into the car andthreaded the twisting lanes and byroads that would take them to thehouse they sought. Oliver was rehearsing within himself what he shouldsay when they presented the picture. "My sister carried this away bymistake, we thought that we should return it to you as soon aspossible.
"And then he will say something sharp and unkind, and I won't knowwhat to answer," he reflected drearily. "I will want to say that I amsure it isn't his anyway and that Janet did well to take it, even byaccident. But what is the use of stirring up more trouble? Well, I canonly explain and then get away as quickly as we can."
It is probable that Janet, who sat by him in low-spirited silence, wasreally suffering less than he. Oliver had undertaken theresponsibility of returning the picture, and Oliver was a dependableboy who could manage it far better than she could. She thought littleof what was to be said or done and was only anxious to have the affairover.
They left the car in the lane and walked together toward the sagginggate. A man was just coming through it, who proved, as they came near,to be John Massey. His good-natured, friendly face was pale under itssunburn and drawn into unfamiliar lines of anger and despair.
"Mr. Peyton sent me the money to settle up my rent," he told them,"and I came up here to pay it and arrange about leaving. Crawfordwants me to stay until the first of the month, but I am going to-day.He has never stocked the farm with the tools and machinery a landlordis supposed to furnish, so I've bought them myself, what I could, andnow he says they are his. He wants to know how I can prove that I paidfor them, when every one knows that it was his place to do it. Helaughed at me when I said it would ruin me entirely. He said one man'sgain was always from another man's loss. I vow there is the spirit ofa devil in him."
He looked back at the house among the trees, clenching his big handsand muttering to himself in helpless fury.
"He just stood there grinning, even guessing my thoughts, for he said,'You could knock me down, I know, but it would be no satisfaction toyou, for I would get back at you through the law. It would cost youmore than it is worth, John Massey.' It was what I knew was truemyself, so I kept my hands off him and came away."
Janet and Oliver stood looking at him miserably, knowing that therewas nothing to be done.
"Get into the car and wait for us," Oliver directed at last. "We willtake you home when we have finished here. We won't stay long."
"You won't want to," observed John Massey bitterly. "He is in a famousbad temper."
They went through the gate with Janet's steps lagging more than ever.There was something almost uncanny about a man who could cause suchmisery to other people and yet go unscathed himself. They saw himalmost immediately as they came up the path. He had been cutting downsome weeds in the neglected field and was standing in the middle ofit, close beside the scarecrow. He did not move, but waited for themto come close, evidently meditating what he could say that would hurtand anger them the most. He began to speak the moment they came near,giving Oliver no opening for what he had meant to say:
"So Jasper Peyton, having sent one of you to steal my picture, haslost courage and sent two of you to bring it back again. Very clever,very clever of him indeed!"
"He knew nothing about it," Janet was beginning passionately, whenOliver silenced her by a touch on her shoulder.
"He knows that," he reminded her calmly; "he is only trying to makeyou angry."
He caught a look of smoldering fury in Anthony Crawford's eye and anote of surprised irritation in his voice.
"Well," the man snapped, "am I to have my property or not?"
"You are to have it. We will not keep anything that you even claim asyours," returned Oliver.
He felt hot rage surging up within him, yet he strove to keep it down.He had realized, of a sudden, that this man who could hurt his CousinJasper so deeply, who could ruin John Massey, could harm neither himnor Janet in the least. Oliver had felt real dread as he came throughthe gate, he had been haunted by the vague terror of what AnthonyCrawford might be able to do, but he looked upon him now withdisillusioned eyes, knowing him for nothing but a small-minded,selfish, spiteful man whose power over them was nothing at all.
"If I can only keep as calm as he can, he will never get the better ofme," the boy thought desperately as he struggled with his own risingtide of anger.
"Perhaps you would be glad to have me establish my real rights," saidCrawford. "You would like to have it brought up in court, perhaps, howyour sister was found going through my possessions, and how shehappened, quite by chance, of course, to select the most portable andvaluable article in my house and carry it away with her. She wouldlike, I am sure, to have public opportunity to make all that quiteplain."
Oliver heard Janet's gasp of panic-stricken horror, but he still, by agreat effort, retained his own presence of mind.
"We are not afraid of you," he asserted, looking straight into theother's narrow, shifting eyes. "I am nearly as big as you and I couldroll you over and over in the mud of this wet field, only that wouldgive you the legal hold on me that is just what you wish. You can't dous any real harm, no matter what you pretend. I don't believe you haveanything behind those threats you make to Cousin Jasper, I don't thinkyou believe in your claims yourself. You're a bluff; like thisscarecrow here, you're nothing but a bogy man, stuffed with straw!"
He caught the scarecrow by the shoulder, venting his rage upon thehelpless bundle of rags, shaking it even out of its ridiculousresemblance to its master, until it fell to bits about his feet. Heflung down the miniature upon the heap of rags and, followed byJanet, walked away across the field. Anthony Crawford stood lookingafter him, never offering a word. When Oliver reached the path hebecame aware that John Massey was leaning over the gate, grinning inhalf-terrified delight. The rain was beginning to fall steadily againas they came out into the lane and climbed into the car.
It rained all of the afternoon, but ceased at nightfall, just in time,so Janet said, "to keep Mrs. Brown from nervous prostration." Olivercould not quite understand how plump, comfortable Mrs. Brown could bethreatened with such a malady, for he had forgotten that next daythere was to be a much heralded outing for all the members of CousinJasper's household. The occasion was a celebration at the nextvillage, a glorified edition of the ordinary country fair in whichfarmers, summer visitors, and the residents of the bigger estates wereall accustomed to take part. A magnificent affair it was to be withexhibitions, merry-go-rounds, peanut and lemonade stands, motor races,a horse show--something to please the taste of every variety ofperson. It was Cousin Jasper's custom to give the whole staff ofservants a holiday for the festival, although the cook usually waitedto serve an early lunch and Mrs. Brown came home before the others, toset out a late supper. No influence on earth could ever persuadeCousin Jasper to attend one of these merrymakings, but every otherperson under his roof was absorbed in looking forward to the greatday of the summer. Elaborate preparations had been made and all thatwas now in question was the weather, for to make such an event asuccess it seemed absolutely necessary to have one of those clear,blazing-hot days that seem specially to belong to circuses, fairs, andmidsummer festivals.
Janet was to go under the safe, but excited, wing of Mrs. Brown, andOliver, also, was looking forward to the day with some anticipation.
"I wonder if the Beeman and Polly will be there," he thought, and wentoff into further speculation as to what the Beeman would look like inthe more civilized clothes that suc
h an occasion would demand. "Imight not even know him," he reflected.
When the day came, however, cloudless, hot, just what such a dayshould be, Oliver suddenly announced that he was not going.
"I don't like to leave Cousin Jasper all alone when he is so worried,"he said to Janet, but could not explain why there should be any causefor misgiving. "I didn't care a great deal about going anyway." Herefused to listen to her suggestion that she should stay also.
Lines of motors were rolling down the road from early morning onward,filled with flannel-coated or befrilled holiday makers or laden withfarmers and farmers' wives and farmers' children. Janet and Mrs.Brown, the one an excited flutter of white organdie skirts, the othera ponderous rustle of tight brown taffeta, departed at ten o'clockand by one the great house was empty of all save Oliver and CousinJasper.
The afternoon seemed very still and very long, as one hour followedanother. Oliver strolled out to the gate and stood looking down theroad, but the procession of motors had long since come to an end, sothat the highway stretched, white and empty, to the far end of thevalley. Yet as he stood, idly staring out in the hot quiet, he thoughtthat he saw a small, dilapidated vehicle come round a distant turn andadvance slowly toward him. When it was near enough for him torecognize the old white horse, the driver pulled up suddenly, turnedthe cart sharply about in the road, and rattled away in the directionfrom which he had come. Could it be that he had seen the boy there inthe open gate, and therefore had decided not to come in? Oliver couldscarcely believe that this was the reason.
An hour later, when he had gone back to the house, he saw a ragged,barefoot youth in faded overalls come shuffling up the drive. Hedelivered to Oliver a letter addressed to Cousin Jasper and said itwas "from Mr. Crawford and he was to be sure to get an answer."
Oliver carried it away to the study and stood waiting, looking outthrough the window, while Cousin Jasper should read it and write areply. The brightness of the holiday weather seemed to be growing dimsomehow; the sun was still shining but with a touch of greenish,unreal light.
"I hope there isn't going to be a storm," he thought. His reflectionswere interrupted by a sound in the room behind him; Cousin Jasper wastearing the letter sharply to pieces.
"Anthony has sent what he calls an ultimatum," he said, trying tosmile and not succeeding. "Tell the boy there is no answer."
The messenger, on being so informed, seemed reluctant to believe it.
"He said I must have one, not to come back without it," he keptinsisting.
How Anthony Crawford had found any one to carry his letter on this daywhen Medford Valley seemed quite emptied of inhabitants seemed rathera mystery, yet he had not only found one but had impressed himforcibly with the necessity of fulfilling his errand. It was onlyafter he had received a coin from Oliver's pocket and a large applefrom the fruit dish in the dining room, that the shabby youth finallydecided to go away.
"He said I wasn't to come back without an answer, so if I haven't oneI needn't go back at all." He seemed to find this solution of thedifficulty an excellent one and went striding away, whistlingcheerfully.
Whatever final threat Anthony Crawford's letter had contained, itseemed to be unusually disturbing to Cousin Jasper. Having evidentlymade up his mind to ignore it, he seemed, just as plainly, to be ableto think of nothing else. He seemed unwilling to be alone, and yet tobe very bad company, for he was restless, silent, and, when Oliver,with an effort, tried to talk of cheerful things, was completelyinattentive. They went into the garden at last to see how the flowerswere faring. The sunshine was more unreal than ever, and sudden,fitful gusts of wind were beginning to stir the trees. They hadinspected the flowers and were halfway across the lawn on their way tothe house when the sun vanished, the wind rose to a roar, and, beforethey could reach the steps, the blinding rain was upon them.
It was not an ordinary thunderstorm, but one of those sinistertempests that occasionally break the tension of a hot summer day.Oliver, inside the hastily closed windows, could see the trees lashinghelplessly, and could hear them groaning and snapping as one greatbranch after another came crashing to the ground. It was only a fewminutes that the furious wind lasted, as it swept across the garden,but it left destruction in its wake. The beds of lilies were drenchedand flattened, the smooth lawn was strewn with twigs and brokenboughs, half a dozen trees were split, and one huge Lombardy poplar,with a mass of earth and roots turned upward, lay prone across thedriveway.
It was half past six by Oliver's watch, then seven, then eight. No onehad come home. Cousin Jasper was growing more and more restless andoverwrought, Oliver was anxious--and hungry. He saw his cousin gatherup the fragments of the letter, piece them together for rereading,then fling them from him once more. The boy wandered about aimlesslyin the solitude of the big house, wishing that this long miserable daywould reach an end and that Janet and Mrs. Brown would come home. Itgrew dark and no one returned, although, after a long time, thetelephone began to ring.
It was Mrs. Brown's voice, nervous and only half audible, that soundedat the far end. Yes, she and Miss Janet were quite safe, they had beenunder shelter during the storm, but there had been such damage by thewind that both the railway and the road were blocked. They would notbe able to get home for some hours, she feared.
"Could you, Mr. Oliver, just slip down to the kitchen and make poorMr. Peyton a cup of tea and some toast? It is so bad for him to waitso late for his dinner. You will find the tea in the right-handcupboard and the butter----"
The unsatisfactory connection cut her off, leaving Oliver standingaghast at her suggestion. "Just slip down to the kitchen," indeed,when he did not even know the way to that region of the house. Andmake tea! It seemed an utterly impossible task.
Through the long vista of rooms he could see Cousin Jasper in hisstudy, sitting before his desk, and, fancying himself unseen,suddenly bowing his head in his hands.
"It won't do," thought Oliver determinedly, "he must have some one tohelp him, some one that knows more about this wretched business. Thereis that Cousin Tom he talks about, Eleanor's father. I can't think ofany one else. I will send for him."
If he could only have found the Beeman! He even searched the telephonebook for the name of Marshall, but found none. And he had neverdiscovered where the Beeman and Polly lived. Yes, the only choice wasCousin Tom.
He got the connection with some difficulty and asked for Mr. Brighton.
"Mr. Brighton is at dinner," returned the smooth voice of awell-trained servant; "he cannot be interrupted."
"But this is very important," insisted Oliver. "I am quite sure thatif he knew----"
"My orders are that he is not to be disturbed," was the politely firmanswer while the boy raged and fumed impotently.
"Then tell him," Oliver directed, "that his cousin, Mr. Jasper Peyton,is in very great trouble and needs to see him as--as soon as he findsit quite convenient."
His voice was trembling with anger and he slammed down the receiverwithout waiting for a reply.
"There was no use sending for him, after all," he reflected in blackdiscouragement. He was not used to such treatment nor did he thinkthat a man should surround himself with so much ceremony that he couldnot hear a plea for help. "He is just what Cousin Eleanor's fatherwould be," was his disgusted verdict. "I was a fool to hope for anyhelp there. If it had been the Beeman----"
Never had the house seemed so enormous or so silent as it wasto-night. He went out through a swinging door, attempting to find thekitchen, fumbling down a passage, feeling in likely places forelectric buttons, and not discovering them. He bumped his head againstunexpected doors and cupboards, he upset something with a horrifyingcrash in the butler's pantry. At last he found the right door and theproper light switch, and stood in the big, shining white kitchen,looking about him helplessly at all the complicated apparatus ofcookery, clean, polished, and complete, and utterly useless to him.
"This is no place for a boy," he exclaimed stormily after he hadpinched his finger
s in a drawer, spilled the water, and produced aroaring, spitting flame in the gas burner that blew up in his face andthen went out. After fifteen minutes of miserable effort he at lastheard the water boil noisily in the kettle where he had placed waterand tea together. He poured out a cupful of the poisonous brew andstood regarding it in despair.
"I wish Mrs. Brown would come home," he groaned. "I'd be glad of anywoman, any girl, even Cousin Eleanor."
He had opened a window, for the place was hot and close and throughthis he could hear, of a sudden, the sound of an automobile coming upthe drive. He dashed through the dark passage, hurried to the greatfront door, and flung it open. There was a crunching of big wheels onthe gravel and the snorting of an engine checked suddenly to a stop.It was not Mrs. Brown and Janet, for, though he heard voices, theywere not theirs. The car had stopped beyond the fallen tree and someone was coming across the grass--two people, for the voices were aman's and a girl's. Apparently Cousin Tom had not stopped to finishhis dinner, after all, and he had brought Cousin Eleanor.
"Yes, I'll be glad to see even her," he thought desperately.
The two came nearer, a man in white flannels, but bareheaded in thehurry of his coming, and a girl in white also. There was somethingfamiliar in the swing of those broad shoulders, in the tone of thatvoice. Yet Oliver stood, blinking stupidly, holding to the side of thedoor, too dazed to speak when the two stepped out of the dark and cameup the steps--the Beeman and Polly.