But presently the telephone rang and she hurried to answer it. It was Curlin again.
“Well, I got Link,” he said, “and he’s going to hunt him up. He thinks he knows where he may be, and he’ll do his best. Besides Link has Paul and Luther with him, and that will have a lot of influence with Steve. He’s devoted to Lute especially.”
“Oh, I’m glad! Well, come over early, Curlin. We want you all in time for dinner. Mother has a big ham in the oven, and a great pan of rich baked beans with lots of ’lasses in them. The kind you like, you know. And there’ll be bound to be some pies of some sort—maybe à la mode! I don’t know all the details yet. I’ve just got home, but mother’s been home all day fixing up for such a possibility as tonight. Nothing fancy, just good old-fashioned things, you know, the way mother makes them.”
“The best ever!” said Curlin. “I’ll be there, lady, and I thank you kindly for the invitation.”
It was more than an hour after that when the telephone rang again and this time it was Link.
“That you, Rae? Well, we’re just starting. Be there in half and hour if traffic doesn’t get in the way. I’m bringing Paul, Luther, and Steve!”
“Oh, did you find Steve?” she said breathlessly. And there was that in her brother’s voice as he answered her that gave her pause for more thought.
“Yes, I found him!” he said gravely, “and I’m bringing him. It almost had to be at the point of a gun, but I’ve got him! Good-bye. See you shortly!”
She took a deep breath as she hung up the receiver, and stood thoughtfully a moment, deciding that definitely something had to be done about Steve.
Then she had a flash of gratitude for her brother. How was it that Link always had to go after everybody, always be the goat, and carry burdens? Yet he was usually successful in such errands. But it wasn’t fair to Link that his life should always have to be cluttered up with other people’s mistakes and wrong doings, and laxities. She still felt a little sore over the fact that it had been Link who had had to take that outrageous Minnie away from the bride’s dinner, and see that she would stay away. She wondered how he had done it. She mustn’t forget to ask him after they were all gone. But then Link always had a way with him, and his friends knew it. They had fallen into the habit of putting everything hard off onto Link! And how everybody loved him! Well, she was thankful anyway that Link had succeeded in bringing Steve with him. Frannie was awfully fond of Steve, and he seemed to enjoy her a lot. Perhaps that would help. Then she went back to the girls who were hurrying into festive array.
They were putting handsome perms into lovely order, donning becoming sports garments, and all talking at once. Each one was planning some new game for the program of the evening.
Sue and Betty had got dressed in a hurry and retired to a corner where they had a lot of little boxes, a cake of paraffin, a box of wooden toothpicks, and a collection of bits of silk and calico and colored paper. From these each guest was to fashion little creatures in significant attire, representing famous personages. Then the rest were to guess their identity.
Even good old-fashioned charades were coming in for a place on the program, and lists of adaptable words were selected by leaders of two groups.
Yet through it all, while she provided pencils and paper and toothpicks and wax and scraps of silk for workers, and answered questions, and answered the telephone, and ran errands for her mother, Rae Silverthorn was thinking about her old playmate Steve, and feeling a strange worry about him. Bright funny Steve. Was there going to be something the matter with Steve, some danger threatening his fine young life?
Rae had never thought much about Steve before, had just taken him for granted, like her brother Link, or like Curlin. They had all been children together. But now suddenly she found herself considering Steve. Thinking how his gold hair waved back from his forehead, one or two recalcitrant locks standing away from the rest and foaming out into stubborn curls. No matter how roughly Steve was dressed, for work or for play, he always looked well-groomed. But there had never been anything of the dandy about Steve. He was just a nice happy-go-luck, easy-going, grinning boy. That was the way she had always thought of him. And now could it be possible there was some weakness behind all his liveliness, some tendency to be lazy? Was he just seeking a good time out of life?
It troubled Rae as she went about her preparations for the evening and she kept looking anxiously down the road. Surely, since Link had said he was bringing him back nothing could hinder him now! Yet, who was that girl who had put such a grim sound to Curlin’s voice when he talked about her? Yes, and a grim sound in her brother’s voice when he spoke of having found Steve? And where had he found him?
Then the girls wanted to go down to the piano and rehearse a song they planned to use in a charade that evening and as she was the only one who could play it for them without music she had to go down and preside at the piano.
When Link drove in they all scattered out to give them welcome, and there was Steve swinging out of the front seat beside Link, grinning and waving his hands in the old way, twinkles in his eyes, good-natured and happy and handsome as always. She drew a sigh of relief and smiled.
But afterward, when Steve came in and began to get around among them, waiting on everybody with his old graceful ease, taking extra chairs out of the girls’ hands and carrying them to the dining room, he came to her and took a chair she was carrying, and suddenly she caught a whiff of his breath. Liquor! She had never got that odor on his breath before, and she gave him a quick searching look.
Did he understand? He backed off from her laughing and went out into the kitchen hastily declaring he wanted a drink of water.
Her heart gave a quick lurch and fear came into her eyes. Had Steve been drinking? Oh, was that what Curlin had been afraid of?
Then the merry company swarmed into the dining room, and there was no further time to think. They were sitting down at the long table, and it seemed all at once as if it were just the wedding party over again. For a little while Rae forgot her worries.
Now and again her eyes would glance down and sweep the friendly laughing faces, Steve with the rest, and a quiver of worry would go over her. Not Steve! Surely Steve wouldn’t be caught by liquor. He had been brought up so strictly! He had been taught from babyhood, just as they all had! Was Steve easily led? She had never thought about that.
Her uneasiness stayed with her all the evening, while the singing and the games were going on. Now and then she would look at Steve. He seemed to be just as cheerful as usual. Had he always been like this, easily led? It didn’t seem possible that if he had been doing something wrong he could go along with them all, his accustomed friends, and not have a bit of self-consciousness upon him. Yet he was smiling and singing, getting off wise cracks and making them all laugh. Ah! That was Steve’s danger perhaps, that he was such good company, he was too popular. Had this just begun? Or had it been going on for some time? From Curlin’s tone she felt that it was not a first offence with him, not with that certain girl anyway.
Now and then her glance would meet Curlin’s eyes, and there was a sternness there that didn’t seem like Curlin’s usually genial expression. Curlin was worried.
But they were all having a delightful time. The roars of laughter that floated out the open windows made the neighbors smile and say, “What a good time they seem to be having over at Silverthorn’s. I wonder why we never seem to be able to have such good times at our house. They are not worldly people, either. You sometimes think they are rather strait-laced, and have some fanatical ideas, but there’s nothing long-faced about them, and the young people who go over there seem to enjoy themselves greatly.”
Rae thrilled to the thought that everyone was happy. She glanced at the girls. Sue Richards and Betty Patterson were comparative strangers to the rest of the crowd. Sydney herself had met them rather recently. They were obviously accustomed to fashionable amusements, and yet they seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as the rest.
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So she watched the first set of charades go off upstairs to prepare for their act which was next in order, and decided to forget her worries about Steve and just relax and have a good time herself.
Just then the telephone rang, and she slipped out into the back hall to answer it. As she picked up the receiver she noticed that her mother was out in the kitchen preparing a midnight refreshment. The door was open and mother was cutting cake, and arranging glasses of fruit lemonade on the small trays. She registered the thought that she must go out and help her as soon as this call was finished. And then her clear voice spoke into the phone:
“Hello!”
There was a moment’s confusion of sounds, different voices, and then a blatant uncultured dominant voice asked:
“Is Steve Grant there? I wantta speak to him right away. Is he there?”
Chapter 7
It was a girl’s voice, but not any girl McRae knew, and instantly she knew what girl it must be. What should she do? Call Steve and perhaps spoil all that Link had done in bringing him home? Break up the charade in which Steve was taking part, and perhaps end the pleasant party? Precipitate trouble for the Grants?
But of course she had to call Steve. She couldn’t just hang up. Besides, how did she know who this girl was and why she wanted Steve? It wasn’t her business. Should she perhaps tell Curlin? Or Link? But Link didn’t even know she knew about the girl, and Steve would certainly resent it if she drew Curlin into the matter. Anyway it wasn’t her business. She had no right to meddle with Steve’s phone calls.
All these thoughts went swiftly through her mind in that instant of pause before she answered pleasantly:
“Why—yes, Stephen Grant is here, but he’s very much occupied just now. Could I ask him to call you a few minutes later?”
There was almost an electric hush over the wire for an instant while the unknown girl considered this quiet cultured girl’s voice answering her, and then her voice boomed coarsely out again:
“Not on your life, you can’t! I want him now! I’ve waited long enough for him and I’m not waiting another minute, see? He promised to come back here within two hours, and it’s a lot more than that now. I’m not used to being left ta cool my heels an’ wait for anybody, and what’s more I won’t stand for it. You tell him to come to the phone with a hustle or I’m off him for life. He’ll be good and sorry if he keeps me waiting any longer! An’ I don’t mean mebbe!”
McRae took a quick breath to steady her voice before she answered, and the girl at the other end of the wire grew impatient!
“Hello! Hello! Where are you? Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, I heard,” said McRae quietly.
“Well then, whyn’t you do something about it? Who are you, anyway? A servant? I’ll certainly have you reported to the family if you don’t get my message to Steve Grant immediately. Who are you?”
McRae drew her breath deep, and struggled with a sense of wry mirth.
“I am Miss Silverthorn,” she said quietly, and there was something about the quality of her grave voice that created a sense of startled astonishment at the other end of the wire.
“Oh!” said the other girl, the least bit abashed at first; “Well, I wantta speak ta Steve Grant at once!” Her voice grew in arrogance and a kind of defiance with each word she spoke. “I won’t stand any more nonsense! You can tell Steve if he don’t come to the phone now he’ll be good and sorry! There’s plenty I can tell that he wouldn’t want known. You tell him that!”
McRae didn’t answer immediately, and then she fell into her natural cultured manner:
“I beg your pardon, who did you say you are?”
“I didn’t say!” said the other girl. “He’ll know who I am. But just in case, you might tell him it’s Mysie wantsta talk to him!”
“I will see if Mr. Grant is at liberty to come,” said McRae sweetly. She laid down the receiver quietly, and stood an instant trying to think what to do.
She could hear that the group who were to act the charade were coming down the stairs. A burst of laughter greeted them. They would likely be comically garbed. Fran Ferrin was in it and Fran had cute ideas.
As she turned away from the telephone and walked slowly toward the big living room where they were all gathered she heard Steve’s voice, opening the dialogue. Well, she couldn’t stop him in the middle of an act. It would be so awkward.
She went to the door and stood watching. It was a fantastic scene with improvised costumes and Steve was a dream in a long trailing evening gown composed of crimson curtains borrowed from mother’s upstairs sitting room. He had managed a bare arm and back effect, and his head wore a contrivance composed of Sue Richards’ yellow silk scarf, the fringe of which hung on his shoulders like a page boy’s hair. He was standing there with a compact in his hand, holding up a tiny mirror and powdering his nose most affectedly. The audience was howling with mirth. She had left the door open to the back hall, and she wondered if the girl who called herself Mysie could hear. But she couldn’t interrupt till the action was over.
There was quite a little dialogue between Steve and several others of the group, and then they trooped upstairs, while the audience debated loudly what the syllable could be. McRae wished she dared let this go till the word was finished. She tried to attract Curlin’s attention, but he was talking to Carey Carewe, and she could not get his eye. Perhaps anyway that wasn’t the right thing to do. Curlin would be terribly worried and perhaps overbearing with Steve, and Steve would be furious that she had told Curlin about the girl of course.
Desperately she turned and hurried up the stairs to find Steve, and suddenly met him halfway up, in the long black robe of a clergyman, the robe being her old back rubber rain coat. He was looking very solemn, and carrying a little black book, and he was followed by a wedding procession coming nimbly down after him. There was little chance of stopping him now.
But as he went by, she called softly: “Steve, Steve! The telephone!” But he only shook his head and went solemnly on, marching into the living room with stately movement that was unutterably comical. He was met with much laughter and applause, and though she really tried her best to follow him in and whisper to him to come at once, he went right on playing his part. It was so like Steve to go right on with what he was doing, regardless of anything else.
The act wasn’t long of course, and he came rushing back to the stairs, and was about to stride up to get ready for the next act. But this time Rae caught him firmly by his sleeve.
“Steve!” she said urgently, “you simply must come! There’s a—a—” she hesitated. She had been going to say “lady” but that didn’t seem to fit the occasion, and she finished “girl.” “She says her name is Mysie, and she is very much excited to speak to you at once. You’d better come right away. I’ll explain to the rest.”
Steve’s eyes suddenly became blank and then he gave Rae a quick searching look as she uttered the name “Mysie.” A flood of crimson swept over his white sensitive skin. She could see he was wondering what she thought. Then suddenly he frowned.
“To heck with the girl!” he said furiously. “Tell her I’m busy!”
“But she says she is waiting for you somewhere, and she must speak to you at once.”
“Well, she can’t!” said Steve firmly. “Just tell her I can’t come back and I can’t speak to her at present!” Then he dashed up the stairs and there was nothing for McRae to do but go back to the telephone and give the message as coolly as was possible.
“I’m sorry!” she said and her voice was a bit haughty. “It is quite impossible for Mr. Grant to come at present. He asked me to tell you that he finds it impossible for him to return tonight. He sent word for you not to wait for him any longer.”
“Can you tie that?” said the raucous voice of the infuriated girl. “Well, you can just go back and tell that insufferable boy that he will come, and right away too or I’ll make him plenty sorry. Tell him he knows I have ways of making it very unp
leasant for him, and I’m counting the minutes. See?”
McRae was quiet for a moment thinking, and then she said in her gentle voice, “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t give Mr. Grant a message like that. You’ll have to excuse me. He said that he definitely cannot come at present.”
Firmly she hung up the receiver and walked back to the living room.
She was not surprised to hear the telephone ringing furiously again in a minute or two and it kept on ringing insistently and briskly, till suddenly she saw Link get up and hurry out to answer it.
She slipped through the door after him hoping to get a chance to explain to him what was going on, but Fran Ferrin came rushing up to her.
“Give me a spoon and a glass, Rae. I need it for the next act,” she whispered. “Quick! They’re coming down!”
Rae turned and reached the required spoon and glass from the shelf beside her, and Fran rushed away.
As she turned back she heard her brother’s voice.
“Yes? Who is this? Oh! You are the young woman who was at the night club this evening, aren’t you? But you are mistaken in thinking that Mr. Grant promised to return to you this evening. I was with him and heard what he said. He told you in answer to your request that he would return if he found it was advisable to do so, but he was almost certain that it would not be possible. And now he has found that it is not advisable. You will have to excuse him. No, I do not think it will be possible for you to speak with him now. He is very much engaged at present. A friend of his? I must say you certainly don’t sound like a very good friend. I should call that a threat of blackmail. I shouldn’t advise you to try any such thing as that if I were you. You will find it might react upon you in a very unpleasant way. You will have to do what you will of course, but I warn you that Mr. Grant has a good many close friends, and you wouldn’t get very far in a thing like that. Oh! You would? Well, that being the case I don’t think we care to hear anything more from you tonight. I shall tell Mr. Grant what you have said as soon as he is at liberty. He probably knows where to communicate with you if he has anything further to say. Good night!” Link hung up with a gray determined look around tired eyes, and a firm set of his lips. Poor Link! He was the goat again, thought McRae. First Minnie, and now Mysie. Why was it that Link always seemed to be the dependable one for all unpleasant matters that needed a wise head and a steady hand? And he always succeeded. That girl was not likely to call again. She must have met Link when he went after Steve, and she knew she couldn’t very well bully him.