CHAPTER XX
MUTUAL CONFIDENCES
"Betty! Oh, Betty! _Betty!_" Bob Henderson's familiar, friendlyvoice rose to a perfect crescendo of delight, and several passengersin the elevator smiled in sympathy.
Bobby Littell, who had entered the car, backed out hastily and thegate closed.
"Bobby, this is Bob Henderson," Betty performed a hastyintroduction. "And, Bob, this is Roberta Littell, always called Bobby."
The latter held out an instant cordial hand to Bob.
"I know about you," she proclaimed frankly. "Betty thinks you arefine. We ought to be good friends, because our names are almost alike."
"I must talk to you, Bob," said Betty hurriedly. "Where are yougoing? Have you heard from Bramble Farm or Uncle Dick? How long haveyou been in Washington? Did you get out to Oklahoma?"
Bobby laughed and touched Betty on the arm.
"There's a seat over by the elevator," she suggested. "Why don't yousit there and talk? I'll come back and get you at a quarter to five--Iwant to get some new hair-ribbons for Esther."
"But you wanted to go up on the roof!" protested Betty, longing totalk to Bob and yet mindful of Bobby's first plans.
"Plenty of other days for that," was the careless response. "See youquarter to, remember. Good-by, Bob--though I'll see you again, ofcourse."
She disappeared into a down elevator, and Betty and Bob sat down onthe oak settle in the corridor.
"Wasn't it lucky we met you!" exclaimed Betty, getting a good lookat the boy for the first time. "Seems to me you're thinner, Bob. Areyou all right?"
"Couldn't be better!" he assured her, but she noticed there wererings under his eyes and that his hands, white enough now in contrastto the tan which still showed at his wrists, were perceptiblythinner. "Fact is, I work in this building, Betty. Kind of juniorclerk for a man on the fourth floor, substituting while his clerksare away on vacation. Hale got me the place."
Betty told him of her interview with the old bookshop man, and Boblistened intently.
"So that's how you heard about Oklahoma," he commented. "You couldhave knocked me down with a feather when you said it. I guess Haleforgot I was working here--he really is dreadfully absent-minded--orelse he thought you weren't to be trusted with so important a secret.He's as queer as they make 'em, but he was very good to me; couldn'tseem to take enough pains to trace out what he knew of my mother'speople."
Bob went on to explain that his money had given out and that he hadto work in order to get together enough to pay his fare out to theWest and also to board himself and pay for some new clothes. Bettyguessed that he was scrimping closely to save his wages, though shedid not then suspect what she afterward learned to be true, that hewas trying to live on two meals a day, and those none too bountiful.Bob had a healthy boy's appetite, and it took determination for himto go without the extra meal, but he had the grit to stick it out.
"When Bobby comes back you must go with us and meet Mrs. Littell,"observed Betty. "She'll want to take you home to dinner. Oh, Bob,they are the loveliest people!"
Bob shifted his foot so that the patch on one shoe was hidden.
"I'll go with you to meet her on one condition," he said firmly. "Iwon't go to dinner anywhere to-night--that's flat, Betty. My collarisn't clean. And who are the Littells?"
That led to long explanations, of course, and Betty told in detailhow she had left Bramble Farm, of the mix-up at the Union Station,and her subsequent friendship with the hospitable family. She alsotold him of Mr. Gordon's sudden trip to Oklahoma and his almostinexplicable silence, but kept to herself her worry over this silenceand as to her own future if it continued. She gave him the latestnews of the Benders and the Guerins and handed over the two lettersfrom these friends she happened to have in her purse that he mightread and enjoy them at his leisure. In short, Betty poured out muchof the pent-up excitement and doubt and conjecture of the last fewweeks to Bob, who was as hungry to hear as she was to tell it.
"They certainly are fine to you!" he exclaimed, referring to theLittells. "There isn't another family in Washington, probably, whowould have been as kind to you. I think you'll hear from your unclesoon, Betty. Lots of times these oil wells, you know, are miles froma railroad or a post-office. You take that Mr. Littell's advice--hesounds as if he had a heap of common sense. And whatever they've doneto you, you're looking great, Betty. Pretty, and stylish and--anddifferent, somehow."
Betty blushed becomingly. She had brightened up amazingly during herstay in Washington, despite her anxiety about her uncle and, lately,Bob, The serene and happy life the whole household led under the roofof "Fairfields" had a great deal to do with this transformation, forthe bickering and pettiness of the daily life at Bramble Farm hadworn Betty's nerves insensibly. She tried to say something of this toBob.
"I know," he nodded. "And, Betty, what do you think? I met the oldmiser right here in Washington!"
Instinctively Betty glanced behind her.
"You didn't!" she gasped. "Where? Did he--was he angry?"
"Sure! He was raving," replied Bob cheerfully. "What do you think heaccused me of this time? Stealing an unrecorded deed! Did you knowanything about that, Betty?"
Betty described the incident of her delayed letter and told of themorning she had picked it from the floor and hung up Mr. Peabody'scoat.
"He insists you took it, but I never believed it for one moment,"she said earnestly. "I'm sure Mrs. Peabody doesn't either; and Ididn't think Mr. Peabody really thought you took it. You know how heflies into a temper and accuses any one. But if he came down toWashington and said pointblank to you that you took it, it looks asif he thought you did, doesn't it?"
"You wouldn't have any doubts if you had heard him," Bob saidgrimly. "He had me by the coat collar and nearly shook my teethloose. Perhaps he expected to shake the deed out of my pocket. Whaton earth does he think I could do with his old deed, anyhow?"
Betty explained the transaction of the lots as Mrs. Peabody hadexplained it to her, and Bob understood that the farmer, basing hisreasoning on his own probable conduct under similar conditions,suspected him of intended blackmail.
"How did you get away from him?" asked Betty presently. "Where didhe shake you? Couldn't you call a policeman?"
"He wanted a policeman," said Bob, chuckling. "He walked me abouttwo blocks, hunting for a cop. Then a crowd collected and I decidedit was better to wriggle out, and I did, leaving the only coat Iowned in his hands. But I never go out without looking up and downthe street first. I don't want to be arrested, even if I didn't stealanything. Besides, with Peabody, I have a feeling that he might beable to prove whatever he wanted to prove."
"You've bought a new suit," said Betty irrelevantly. "You don'tsuppose Mr. Peabody will stay in Washington, hunting for you, do you?"
"If he doesn't have to pay too much for board he will," said Bob."That deed evidently means a lot to him. I wish I could find it, ifonly to send him back to the farm. I'll bet a cookie it's in some ofhis coat pockets this minute, and he hanging down here to nab me.Sure, I bought a new suit--had to, before I could get a job. By theway, Betty, if you need some cash--" He patted his pocket invitingly.
"Oh, I have enough," Betty assured him hastily. "I'd feel better ifthe Littells would only let me spend a little money. Why, what's this?"
For Bob had put a small white envelope into her reluctant hands.
"That's the loan," he said gravely. "I've carried it just like thatfor days, ready to give you the first time I saw you. You're a greatlittle pal, Betty. If it hadn't been for you, I never should have gotto Washington."
Betty put the money away in her purse, conscious that it meant self-denialon the lad's part, but knowing that she would hurt his pride irreparablydid she refuse to take it.
"Have you written to Mr. Bender?" she prodded gently. "You promisedto, Bob."
The police recorder had taken a warm interest in Bob, and Betty knewfrom his wife's letters that he was anxious to hear from him.
"I wi
ll write," promised Bob. "I'm tired at night, Betty, and that'sthe truth. I never seem to get enough sleep. But I will write,perhaps this Sunday."
"Well, folks, all talked out?" called Bobby's gay voice, and shecame smilingly up to them. "Betty, mother and the girls aredownstairs in the car. I met them on the way and they know all aboutour meeting with Bob. Mother wants him to come home to dinner."
Bob replied that while he appreciated Mrs. Littell's kindness, hecould not come that night, and, as he followed Bobby to the elevator,gave Betty a significant glare which, correctly interpreted, read:"Don't forget what I told you!"
Mrs. Littell took to Bob at once, and the bevy of girls, simple andfriendly and delightfully free from selfconsciousness, adopted him atonce as Betty's friend and theirs. When the mother found that hecould not be persuaded to come home with them that night--and Bettyloyally supported him, mindful of the collar--she would not besatisfied until she had arranged for him to spend the next Saturdayafternoon and Sunday with them at "Fairfields," promising to send thecar in for him at noon, so that he might have lunch with them.
"Betty hasn't tried her riding habit on once," said Mrs. Littellwhen Bob had promised to come. "Perhaps when you come out the girlswill find time to give her, her delayed riding lesson. They've beendoing Washington pretty thoroughly."
This reminded Betty of Bobby's plan to visit the roof of the officebuilding, and Bob had the same thought.
"Couldn't you all come in to-morrow morning and let me take you upon the roof?" he asked them. "The view is really worth while, and I'mup there anyway half the morning looking after my employer'sexperiments. He is head of a dye house, and is always trying theeffect of sunlight on new shades."
So it was decided that the girls should come in again in themorning. Then they drove away home, and Bob went on his errand.Luckily he had been told that he need not return to the office thatafternoon after its completion, or he might have found himselfinvolved in a maze of explanations and excuses for his lengthy absence.