CHAPTER XXVII
TROUBLED WATERS
Ted Holiday drifted into Berry's to buy floral offerings for thereigning goddess who chanced still to be pretty Elsie Hathaway. Thingshad gone on gayly since that night a month ago when he had stolen thatimpudent kiss beneath the crescent moon. Not that there was anything atall serious about the affair. College coquettes must have lovers, andTed Holiday would not have been himself if there had not been a prettysweetheart on hand.
By this time Ted had far outdistanced the other claimants for Elsie'sfavor. But the victory had come high. His bank account was again sadlyhumble in porportions and his bills at Berry's and at the candy shopswere things not to be looked into too closely. Nevertheless he was in agala humor that November morning. Aside from chronic financialcomplications things were going very well with him. He was working justhard enough to satisfy his newly-awakened common sense or conscience, orwhatever it was that was operating. He was having a jolly good time withElsie and basket ball and other things and college life didn't seem quitesuch a bore and burden as it had hitherto. Moreover Uncle Phil had justwritten that he would waive the ten dollar automobile tax for December inconsideration of the approach of Christmas, possibly also inconsideration of his nephew's fairly creditable showing on the new leafof the ledger though he did not say so. In any case it was a jolly oldworld if anybody asked Ted Holiday that morning as he entered Berry's.
He made straight for Madeline as he invariably did. He was alwaysfriendly and gay and casual with her, always careful to let no onesuspect he had ever known her any more intimately than at present--notbecause he cared on his own account--Ted Holiday was no snob. But becausehe had sense to see it was better for Madeline herself.
He was genuinely sorry for the girl. He could not help seeing how herdespondency grew upon her from week to week and that she appearedmiserably sick as well as unhappy. She looked worse than usual to-day, hethought, white and heavy-eyed and unmistakably heavy-hearted. It troubledhim to see her so. Ted had the kindest heart in the world and alwayswanted every one else to be as blithely content with life as he washimself. Accordingly now under cover of his purchase of chrysanthemumsfor Elsie he managed to get in a word in her ear.
"You look as if you needed cheering up a bit. How about the moviesto-night? Charlie's on. He'll fix you."
"No, thank you, I couldn't." The girl's voice was also prudently low,and she busied herself with the flowers instead of looking at Ted asshe spoke.
"Why not?" he challenged, always impelled to insistence by denial.
"Because I--" And then to Ted's consternation the flowers flew out of herhands, scattering in all directions, her face went chalky white and shefell forward in a heavy faint in Ted Holiday's arms.
Ted got her to a chair, ordered another clerk to get water and spirits ofammonia quick. His arm was still around her when Patrick Berry strayedin from the back room. Berry's eyes narrowed. He looked the girl overfrom head to foot, surveyed Ted Holiday also with sharp scrutiny andknitted brows. The clerk returned with water and dashed off for theammonia as ordered. Madeline's eyes opened slowly, meeting Ted's anxiousblue ones as he bent over her.
"Ted!" she gasped. "Oh, Ted!"
Her eyes closed again wearily. Berry's frown deepened. His bestcustomer had hitherto in his hearing been invariably addressed by thegirl as Mr. Holiday.
In a moment Madeline's eyes opened again and she almost pushed Ted awayfrom her, shooting a frightened, deprecating glance at her employer asshe did so.
"I--I am all right now," she said, rising unsteadily.
"You are nothing of the sort, Madeline," protested Ted, also forgettingcaution in his concern. "You are sick. I'll get a taxi and take youhome. Mr. Berry won't mind, will you Berry?" appealed the bestcustomer, completely unaware of the queer, sharp look the florist wasbending upon him.
"No, she'd better go," agreed Berry shortly. "I'll call a cab." He walkedover to the telephone but paused, his hand on the receiver and lookedback at Ted. "Where does she live?" he asked. "Do you know?"
"Forty-nine Cherry," returned Ted still unconsciously revelatory.
The big Irishman got his number and called the cab. The clerk came backwith the ammonia and vanished with it into the back room. Berry walkedover to where Ted stood.
"See here, Mr. Holiday," he said. "I don't often go out of my way to givecollege boys advice. Advice is about the one thing in the world nobodywants. But I'm going to give you a bit. I like you and I liked yourbrother before you. Here's the advice. Stick to the campus. Don't getmixed up with Cherry Street. You wanted the chrysanthemums sent to MissHathaway, didn't you?"
"I did." There was a flash in Ted's blue eyes. "Send 'em and send a dozenof your best roses to Miss Madeline Taylor, forty-nine Cherry and mindyour business. There is the cab. Ready, Madeline?" As the girl appearedin the doorway with her coat and hat on. "I'll take you home."
"Oh, no, indeed, it isn't at all necessary," protested Madeline. "Youhave done quite enough as it is, Mr. Holiday. You mustn't bother." Thespeaker's tone was cool, almost cold and very formal. She did not knowthat Patrick Berry had heard that very different, fervid, "Ted! Oh, Ted!"if indeed she knew it had ever passed her lips as she came reluctantlyback to the world of realities.
Ted held the door open for her. They passed out. But a moment later whenBerry peered out the window he saw the cab going in one direction and hisbest customer strolling off in the other and nodded his satisfaction.
Sauntering along his nonchalant course, Madeline Taylor already halfforgotten, Ted Holiday came face to face with old Doctor Hendricks, arosy cheeked, white bearded, twinkling eyed Santa Claus sort of personwho had known his father and uncle and brother and had pulled himselfthrough various minor itises and sprains. Seeing the doctor reminded himof Madeline.
"Hello, Doc. Just the man I wanted to see. Want a job?"
"Got more jobs than I can tend to now, young man. Anything the matterwith you? You look as tough as a two year old rooster."
The old man's small, kindly, shrewd eyes scanned the lad's faceas he spoke.
"Smoking less, sleeping more, nerves steadier, working harder, playingthe devil lighter," he gummed up silently with satisfaction. "Good, he'llcome out a Holiday yet if we give him time."
"I am tough," Ted grinned back, all unconscious that he had beendiagnosed in that flitting instant of time. "Never felt better in mylife. Always agrees with me to be in training."
The old doctor nodded.
"I know. You young idiots will mind your coaches when you won't yourfathers and your doctors. What about the job?"
"There's a girl I know who works at Berry's flower shop. I am afraid sheis sick though she won't see a doctor. She fainted away just now while Iwas in the store, keeled over into my arms, scared me half out of mywits. I'm worried about her. I wish you would go and see her. She livesdown on Cherry Street."
"H-m!" The doctor's eyes studied the boy's face again but with lesscomplacency this time. Like Patrick Berry he thought a young Holidaywould better stick to the campus, not run loose on Cherry Street.
"Know the girl well?" he queried.
Ted hesitated, flushed, looked unmistakably embarrassed.
"Yes, rather," he admitted. "I ran round with her quite a little thefirst of the summer. I got her the job at Berry's. Her grandfather, apious old stick in the mud, turned her out of his house. She had to dosomething to earn her living. I hope she isn't going to be sick. It wouldbe an awful mess. She can't have much saved up. Go and see her, will you,Doc? Forty-nine Cherry. Taylor is the name."
"H-m." The doctor made a note of these facts. "All right, I'll go. Butyou had better keep away from Cherry Street, young man. It is not theenvironment you belong in."
"Environment be--blessed!" said Ted. "Don't you begin on that sort ofrot, please, Doc. Old Pat Berry's just been giving me a lecture on thesame subject. You make me tired both of you. As if the girls on CherryStreet weren't as good any day as the ones on the campus, just becausethey wo
rk in shops and stores and the girls on the campus work--us," heconcluded with a grin. "I'm not an infant that has to be kept in a Kiddiecoop you know."
"Look out you don't land in a chicken coop," sniffed the doctor. "Verywell, you young sinner. Don't listen to me if you don't want to. I know Imight as well talk to the wind. You always were open to all the foolgerms going, Ted Holiday. Some day you'll own the old Doc knew best."
"I wouldn't admit to being so hanged well up on the chicken-roostproposition myself if I were you," retorted Ted impudently. "So long. I'mmuch obliged for your kind favors all but the moral sentiments. You canhave those back. You may need 'em to use over again."
So Ted went on his way, dropped in to see Elsie, had a cup of tea andinnumerable small cakes, enjoyed a foxtrot to phonograph music with therug rolled up out of the way, conversed amicably with the Ancient HistoryProf himself, who wasn't such a bad sort as Profs go and had the merit ofbeing one of the few instructors who had not flunked Ted Holiday in hiscourse the previous year.
The next morning Ted found a letter from Doctor Hendricks in his mailwhich he opened with some curiosity wondering what the old Doc could haveto say. He read the communication through in silence and tucking it inhis pocket walked out of the room as if he were in a dream, paying noattention to the question somebody called after him as he went. He wenton to his classes but he hardly knew what was going on about him. Hismind seemed to have stopped dead like a stop watch with the reading ofthe old doctor's letter.
He understood at last the full force of the trouble which engulfedMadeline Taylor and why she had said that it would have been better forher if that mad joy ride with him had ended life for her. The doctor hadgone to her as he had promised and had extracted the whole miserablestory. It seemed Madeline had married, or thought she had married,Willis Hubbard against her grandfather's express command, a few weeksafter Ted had parted from her in Holyoke. In less than two monthsHubbard had disappeared leaving behind him the ugly fact that he alreadyhad one wife living in Kansas City in spite of the pretense of a weddingceremony which he had gone through with Madeline. Long sincedisillusioned but still having power and pride to suffer intensely thelatter found herself in the tragic position of being-a wife and yet nowife. In her desperate plight she besought her grandfather's clemencyand forgiveness but that rigid old covenanter had declared that even asshe had made her bed in willful disobedience to his command so sheshould lie on it for all of him.
It was then that she had turned as a last resort to Ted Holiday thoughalways hoping against hope that she could keep the real truth of herunhappy situation from him.
"It is a bad affair from beginning to end," wrote the doctor. "I'd liketo break every rotten bone in that scoundrel's body but he has takenmighty good care to effect a complete disappearance. That kind is neverwilling to foot the bills for their own villainy. I am telling you thestory in order to make it perfectly clear that you are to keep out of thebusiness from now on. You have burned your fingers quite enough as it isI gather. Don't see the girl. Don't write her. Don't telephone her. Lether alone absolutely. Mind, these aren't polite requests. They areorders. And if you don't obey them I'll turn the whole thing over to youruncle double quick and I don't think you want me to do that. Don't worryabout the girl. I'll look after her now and later when she is likely toneed me more. But you keep hands off. That is flat--the girl's wish aswell as my orders."
And this was what Ted Holiday had to carry about with him all that bleakday and a half sleepless, uneasy night. And in the morning he wassummoned home to the House on the Hill. Granny was dying.