The Street of the City E-Book

Grace Livingston Hill

• Herausgeber: Classica Libris
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

When a handsome young man comes to tell Frannie that her mother is very ill, she wants nothing more than to go home. But her kind messenger assures her that he will take care of everything. Touched by his concern and sensitivity, Frannie’s love for him begins to grow. There is only one problem: He is from the wealthy side of the river, and she is from the poor side. Will the jealousy and schemes of their friends pull them apart—or show them the road to faith and love?

Leseprobe

Grace Livingston Hill

THE STREET OF THE CITY

Copyright

First published in 1942

Copyright © 2019 Classica Libris

Chapter 1

1940s

The river wound like a crystal ribbon at the foot of the hill below the house, a clear, shining pathway of solid ice, blue as the sky above it, until it curved around the hemlock bluff where the tall, feathery trees cut it sharply with dark, delicate points against its shining surface. Then beyond, the gleaming pathway swept toward the town and on to the dingy group of munitions plants, then farther to the open spaces banked by the buildings where airplanes were made.

The old lady was sitting in her sunny window with a bit of sewing, now and again glancing out the window and following the bright course of the river. She had been watching the river for years, in all seasons, but she loved it best in this shining garb of winter, with its solid pavement of bright ice in its soft, white setting of snow.

Lady Winthrop, as her friends called her, had come to the house as a bride. It was a pleasant house on the hillside with the river at its feet, and she had had long years to get acquainted with her river. She knew and loved every phase of it. How it had been with her in every change of her life. How she had communed with it during the early days of her young wifehood, shyly watching, learning slowly its quiet moods—singing with it when there were twinkling sparkles on its bosom; gathering comfort from its steady peace when there was sorrow in the house, sadly, patiently waiting when gray skies spread gloom over its stolid surface; or, in times of storm and stress, watching its steady strength, hurrying on angrily, as if so much depended upon its haste.

And sometimes when her life had been quiet, a space for thoughtfulness, she had seen in that river as it were a way into the Heavenly City. Especially was this so in the winter evenings at sunset, when the sun, a great ball of fire, was going down in the break of the distant mountains and casting ruby light over the ice like flaming gold. Often taking a moment out of her busy life she would stand at her window watching it, and would repeat softly to herself, “ ‘And the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass.’”

Or later, when the sun was slipping over the rim of the world and its last brilliancy flared over the ice like a great blaze, she would murmur, “‘And I saw as it were a sea of glass mingled with fire.’”

But today Lady Winthrop was not seeing fire in her river. It was early morning, and she was watching for her day’s parade of people passing by on that pathway of ice. Groups of workmen walking by the river because it shortened their way, rather than going around by the bridge and the road. Bevies of laborers hurrying to their tasks, rough clad, striding along at the edge of the stream with grim, set faces, or bandying rough jokes with raucous laughter. Some wore the hard, determined look of men who were in this war fight to make the most out of it; and others bore themselves as men who had sacrificially laid aside their work in their chosen field of labor to do what was to be done for right’s sake and for loyalty to their country.

But there was one young man who had been going by for several days now, in fact ever since the fierce cold came that locked the river into a deep floor of crystal. He had appeared that first morning after word had gone out that the skating was fine, and he had come sailing smoothly into view with gleaming skates that almost seemed to be tipped with silvered magic. He had glided by with quick, firm strokes, and such assurance and grace as only a natural gift can acquire.

He was young, yet not a boy, for his movements had that control that belongs to maturity.

Lady Winthrop had watched him every day, wondering who he was, where he came from, and what was his place in this new world that the war had brought suddenly into being.

Lady Winthrop liked to watch his tall, straight form moving with such easy precision down the bright ice. She had been watching him morning after morning now, since the ice had been so fine. She felt glad and comfortable in looking for him because the cold had been so steady. The ice would not be gone, nor spoiled by rain or a heavy snowfall—not today, anyway. The sky was clear. There would perhaps be several days yet when he could go down this same way to wherever it was he went in the morning, and he would probably return the same way in the evening. Each day she studied him from her post in the window, caught a glimpse now and then of his vivid young face with the determination of manhood in its lines, and liked it, wished she might see it nearer by. She had even climbed to the attic and searched in an old trunk till she found an old pair of field glasses that she had not used since Judge Winthrop died, a relic of their happy days together and the summer and winter trips they used to take.

She studied him one night as he came back from his day’s work, and after that keen look put down her glasses, quite satisfied that he was worth her interest.

And so this morning she had settled down by her window, field glasses on the table beside her, watching for him. It was almost the time he usually came by, and she wanted another good look at him to be sure he wasn’t someone she used to know a few years ago. She was lonely and sad. Her own two boys were long since grown up and away at the war, one a naval commander in the Far East, the other an officer in the army. She had given them freely and would not spend her days in sighing for them, but she was trying to get all the cheerful interest she could find in the things around her.

And now suddenly there came into view another skater, a young girl, so tiny she almost seemed a child. She had seen her two or three times before, skating almost uncertainly the first time, as if somehow her skates were unused, or perhaps rusty and had been idle a long time. But here she was again like a little bird, flying along as if she had wings. The skates looked brighter now, or did she imagine that? She had probably been polishing them up. At any rate she seemed to make swifter progress than the first times. And she was a fine skater, very graceful, like a bird of swift wing. Lady Winthrop might be old, and she no longer took frequent trips by herself down the slope of the hill, but she could remember the feel of her own skates long ago when she, too, used to glide down that long smooth stretch of ice, and she felt the swing of her body as if she were out there skimming along. She felt the exhilaration of the keen, bright air, the cut of steel on ice, and drew a deep breath of wistfulness. Oh, for the days when she could skate! How great it would be if even just for one day she could have her young skill and strength back and go down that bright path toward the city herself!

And then suddenly she laughed aloud at herself, a sweet old trill of a laugh. She was actually envying that young girl!

Who was she? A student? Or perhaps a teacher in one of the city schools. But she looked so young, and why had she never seen her before? She might be a worker in some defense plant, a secretary or typist. They gave good salaries in some of those places she had heard. She hoped her salary was adequate for her needs. It was not many times she had seen this girl go down her Crystal Street, as she called it, and yet here she was thinking of the child as if she were a friend!

The girl wore such a look of steady purpose, the look of a worker, not just a girl out for fun or exercise. Ah! Here was another skater of whom she would like to know more. She must find out who she was if possible. Perhaps she came from one of those new houses across the river, the small ones built alike up around the bend of the hill. She could see them from her kitchen windows; they were small frame houses, high on the bluff. She must find out about her. Perhaps the servants could discover who she was.

And that young man must be a stranger in the neighborhood, too. Did his people live up in that new suburb farther up the river, the place they called Cliveden?

How well those two skaters would look together! Did they know one another? Strange thoughts for the dear old lady to have about two young people who were utter strangers to her, two people she had only seen from a distance a few times!

She watched the girl go gliding down the river, till she disappeared at Hemlock rocks, and a moment later reappeared beyond them again and skimmed away into the silvery distance. A mere little speck of a girl in simple garb, with a graceful motion. That was all she could see even with the glasses.

But she could not help thinking again how well those two skaters would look together. If they only knew each other. Both of them living up in the same direction, perhaps they did, and perhaps someday she would see them come down by her house together.

But where was the young man? It was almost five minutes past his usual time for going by. She hoped nothing would hinder him. It would seem as if the day held a big disappointment for her if he didn’t come. It would be something left out from what she had come to expect of a day, not to see him. And that was silly, of course, because it had been only four or five days that she had been seeing him at all. She couldn’t expect it to go on forever. There would soon come a thaw and spoil the ice, or a snow storm and spoil the skating—unless a crowd came out and swept it clean, and that would hardly be likely, sweeping the whole way to town!

Then suddenly she heard footsteps crunching hastily through the crusty snow up the hillside. Young, hurried, frightened footsteps; a quick, insistent pounding on the door beside her window; and a little girl’s voice full of fright calling wildly, “Oh please, please, won’t you help me? Please won’t you come quick and open your door? Something has happened to my mamma!”

Lady Winthrop hurried to open the door.

“Why, my dear!” she exclaimed. For there stood a little girl about five or six years old, a very tiny little girl, with no hat or coat on, and shivering, with her small, red, cold hands clasped tightly and tears flowing down her cold, round cheeks. Her large, beautiful eyes were full of terror.

“What is the matter?” asked the old lady tenderly. “Come into the house and let me close the door. It is very cold!”

“Oh no, I can’t come in,” said the child excitedly. “I must go to my mamma! Won’t you come with me quick?”

“Why, you poor child! You are trembling with cold. You poor little thing! Who are you, and what is the matter with your mother?”

“I’m Bonnie Fernley,” wailed the child frantically, “and I don’t know what is the matter. My mamma just dropped down on the floor with her eyes shut, and she didn’t answer me when I called her. She was clearing off the table and all the dishes she was carrying are broken on the floor! Oh, won’t you come quick and make my mamma wake up?”

“Oh, my dear! I’m lame and I can’t come myself, but I’ll send somebody! Where do you live?”

“Right across the river in that redbrick house. Come out here and I’ll show you.”

“Wait, child! Who is your doctor? I’ll telephone him.”

The child began to cry again.

“We haven’t got any doctor. We just moved here! Oh, I must go quick! My mamma is all alone!”

“Wait!” said Lady Winthrop sharply. “You can’t go that way! You have no coat on, and it is very cold!”

“No! No!” said the child, jerking away. “I can’t wait!”

The old lady reached to the couch and grabbed a soft, bright knitted afghan, wrapping it quickly around the little shaking shoulders. Then she swung the door wide and looked out on the white morning scene and her shining glass pathway. And then straight into the scene at the upper bend of the road wheeled the tall skater coming at full speed.

The old lady did not pause to consider. She lifted her soft, frail hands, hollowed them around her lips, and made a deep sound like a big boy calling to his mates, a sound that boomed out and became a far-reaching “Halloo! Halloo!” and then turned sharply into another syllable, “Help! Help!”

The skater looked up sharply as the word rang out with a carrying quality that an old lady would not have been supposed to be capable of sending out.

“H-ee-lp!” cried Lady Winthrop with all the power of her frail little body thrown in to the cry.

And now she was standing out in the center of her porch, her little lavender shawl fluttering wildly, with bright strands of her lovely silver hair caught by the sharp morning breeze. She was waving her hands frantically as she cried.

The skater threw up his head attentively and faced her, whirling almost in a circle and coming about in front of the old house on the hill and the pretty old lady.

“Are you calling me?” he shouted, coming to a halt on his shining blades and looking up.

“Yes!” answered the old lady, nodding her white head excitedly.

“What’s the matter?” called the young man.

“Woman in trouble!”

“Where? Up there?”

“No, over across the river. This child will show you.”

She put the little girl before her, pointing to her, and the child started to plunge into the snow and come to him.

“Wait!” shouted the young man, “I’ll come up and carry you. There’s a big drift there!” and he swung to the edge of the river deftly and began breaking a way for himself up the crust of the snowy hillside.

Lady Winthrop took her handkerchief out of her pocket and softly, swiftly, wiped the little tear-wet face of the child and tucked the afghan closer around her shoulders. Then she lifted her head and watched the strong, firm steps that broke into the white crust of the hill. The young man was looking up now, taking the hill in great strides, studying the two on the porch.

“I’ll carry that child,” he announced as he arrived. “Sure, I can manage that all right. Are you coming, madam?”

“No,” said the old lady sadly, “I have a sprained knee, and I’m very unsteady on my feet. I’m afraid I couldn’t make the grade. Both my servants are out on errands. I’m here alone.”

“Well, can you tell me where I am going, and what I am to do when I get there?”

“This child’s mother has been taken sick. She will tell you. They are strangers to me, have just moved into that redbrick house across the river. She says her mother is lying on the floor. That she fell.”

“She wouldn’t answer me,” said the child, catching her voice in a sob. “Her eyes were shut tight!”

A tender, pitying look came over the young man’s face.

“And what is their name?” he asked. “I imagine there ought to be a doctor at once.”

“Yes,” said Lady Winthrop. “I was just going in to telephone my doctor. His office hours will be over, but I think I can catch him. The name is Fernley, isn’t that right, dear?”

The child nodded.

“It’s number ten Rosemary Lane,” she added. “It’s the old brick house. We just moved there last week. Our things haven’t all come yet.”

“I see,” said the young man. “Well, let’s get going. Lady Winthrop, you had better go inside. The wind is pretty sharp this morning. Better get warm at once or there will be two sick ladies instead of one.”

“You know me?” she asked.

“Sure,” said the young man with a pleasant grin, “go in and get warm!” He plunged sharply down the crusty hill with the child held firmly in his arms. He landed in a smooth glide on the ice and flew away upstream.

The old lady watched for an instant to make sure the child would be all right with this engaging young stranger, and then turned swiftly in to her telephone, not even stopping to shiver, though it was a good many years since she had permitted herself to be as cold as she was now. There had always been that afghan to throw around her if anyone came to the door and she had to stand a moment talking to them. But she wasn’t thinking about being cold now. She was thinking of that little child and a poor mother lying unconscious on the floor. She must get the doctor before he started on his rounds!

She waited frantically as it rang, wondering what to do if the doctor was gone. Was there some other doctor she would feel like sending in his place if her doctor was not available? Then she was relieved to hear the doctor’s voice answering.

“Yes, Mrs. Winthrop? You’re not ill, I trust? Yes, of course I recognized your voice. There isn’t another voice like yours. You see, I sent Miss March out on an errand, and I was just leaving myself—that’s how I happened to be taking the call. Is anything the matter?”

“Not with me, Doctor, but I am afraid there is terrible trouble across the river from me, and I don’t know what to do about it. I sent the servants to the city shopping for me, and I’m here alone for the moment. They have a lot of errands and will be some time, I’m afraid, and this may be a matter of life and death. Doctor, could you possibly go right away and see? A little child came rushing across the ice to my door screaming for help. She said her mother had fallen down on the floor and wouldn’t answer her when she called. She was half frightened to death, nearly frozen, and crying bitterly. She had come across the river without hat or coat and was blue with cold and shivering. Perhaps the woman has only fainted, but you know I can’t walk over, and I thought someone ought to investigate at once, for maybe she is dying. The child said they had just moved here and didn’t have a doctor. Can you take the time to go?”

“Of course. I’ll go at once. Where is it?”

“Number ten Rosemary Lane, a little, old redbrick house across the river from our house. The name is Fernley.”

“All right, I’ll go at once. And I’ll be reporting back to you afterward. Don’t you worry, and don’t think of going out yourself. It would be suicidal for you. There is a glare of ice everywhere, and the wind is bitter. Good-bye! I’m leaving immediately.”

She turned from the telephone and hurried over to the window again, but the skater and the child had disappeared. She stood there a moment watching to see if the young man would be coming back, but the river was empty, no skater in sight either way.

With a sigh she turned away from the window, suddenly aware that she was very cold. She went to the hall closet and took out a warm, soft, old-fashioned shawl, wrapping it close around her, remembering the little shivering child who had come crying for help.

Back at the window there was still no sign of anyone. If only Joseph and Hannah would come she would have them drive her over at once to find out what this was all about anyway. It was hard to have to be helpless and wait. And that poor woman over there dying perhaps. Was the young man staying in the house all this time, or could he possibly have gone by while she was getting her shawl? She could see the river perfectly from the telephone, and she had been watching the window every minute. She hadn’t been a second getting that shawl. Probably he was doing something for the sick woman. Of course. Reviving her perhaps, if it was a faint. But would he know how? Not every young man was versed in first aid in such an emergency. This young man was at the age when he would have recently been away to college. They didn’t have much time to study first aid in college, did they? Although if they were in athletics they might have some experience.

Of course her own boys, if they had been here, would know what to do; at least enough to keep the woman alive if she was still living. And this young man looked like a wise fellow. He had intelligent eyes. Who was he, anyway, and how had he happened to know her name? Had she ever seen him before? The boys nowadays grew up so fast. And then, of course, she hadn’t been around the young people of the neighborhood as much as she used to be when her own boys were at home and had the house full of friends all the time.

How the years raced by her in panorama as she anxiously watched the icy pathway of the river! Oh, if only she hadn’t sent Hannah and Joseph off this particular morning! They could have gone later just as well. What could that skater-boy do anyway for a desperately sick woman, even if he did know enough to bring her back to consciousness?

She wished she could see the little brick house more clearly. The big elm tree in her back yard almost hid its front door. Was that somebody coming out now? Probably if she went out on the kitchen porch the view would be clearer. But no, she mustn’t; the wind was very sharp. She shivered now at the thought of facing it again as when she had called the young man. She mustn’t risk getting bronchitis again. No, she couldn’t go outside without dressing very warmly, and that would take a lot of time. Likely she would fail to see the young man if he came back. But that surely was a car parked by the side of the little brick cottage. Probably the doctor had arrived. And, ah—there was the young man, coming cautiously down the snow toward the river, just as he had walked up her lawn. And now he was dashing out on the ice and skimming along. Probably she had made him late to something, asking him to help. He might be a worker in one of those munitions places and would be late arriving, maybe be docked in his pay or even lose his job. But what else could she have done? She had to call someone, and he was the only one in sight. And he was a gentleman, she was sure of that. He had it written all over him, even in a leather windbreaker. He would never let her know she had inconvenienced him.

If he was late he wouldn’t likely stop to speak to her now, though he had said he would be back. But perhaps the doctor had understood and promised to stop and let her know.

Then she saw him coming, and suddenly he whirled to face her house and came dashing up, stepping in his same footprints as if they were stairs.

She opened the door and stepped out anxiously, but he called, “Don’t come out, Lady Winthrop. The cold is something fierce. I’ll come in. The doctor sent you a message.”

She stepped back into the house, and he was beside her almost at once, taking care, she noted, to keep his skate-shod feet on a rough mat at the door.

“She’s a pretty sick woman,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “It took me some time to bring her to, but the little kid brought some water and told me where to find aromatic ammonia and a few drops of that revived her. I got her on the bed and covered her warmly, rubbed her hands and feet. They were like ice. We put a hot blanket around them. They had a good, warm radiator in the room. That helped to heat the blanket. But we couldn’t find a hot water bag. The doctor said, did you have one or two you could lend him and a couple more blankets? Their goods haven’t all come yet. And the doctor asked if you would please telephone his office boy and ask him to bring over his other medicine bag and get hold of Nurse Branner and bring her right over to the house?”

“Why surely. There’s the telephone; suppose you call the office and talk with the boy while I get the blankets and things. The number is by the phone.”

As she hurried away she heard the young man’s efficient voice giving directions to the doctor’s office boy and rejoiced that she had so able a helper. This young man was going to stand right by as long as he was needed. Then she heard him coming down the hall after her, walking very carefully, not to damage her floor.

“Can’t I help you?” he asked, and he stepped gingerly up and took the blankets from her, then reached for the two hot water bags that were set so neatly together on a high shelf in the bathroom.

“Thank you,” said the old lady. “And now suppose we fill these bags from the teakettle in the kitchen. I happen to know it is full of hot water and standing over the burner. You can wrap the blankets around the bags and that will keep them hot and save a lot of time.”

“That’s a good idea!” said the young man. “You’ve been through a lot of sickness in your lifetime and you know what to do.”

“Well, I couldn’t have done much if you hadn’t responded to my call. And it couldn’t have been easy walking up that hill with skates on, either.”

The young man grinned and, turning, was soon plunging down the hillside, the big blanket-wrapped bundle held firmly as he sprang out on the ice and went skimming away again. What a fellow he was! How wise and brisk and efficient!

Lady Winthrop found she was quite weak with excitement when he was gone, and she sat down suddenly to rest and get her breath.

“Well,” she said aloud to herself, “to think all this would happen the first time when I was alone. If Joe were only here with the car I’d have been over there myself long ago seeing what I could do to help that poor woman. And now here I am, just a go-between. But perhaps that’s needed just now more than anything else, to do the telephoning.”

Then she got to thinking about that little brick house up the river and the people who had just moved in. Would they have plenty to eat? Food fit for a sick woman? The sick mother and the little girl who had come across the icy way alone. She must see what food was quickly available in the refrigerator, in case somebody came back again. At least she could send it over by Joseph when he got back. Neither the woman nor the little girl would be able to do any cooking, of course.

There was a good bowl of chicken soup Hannah made last night. She always made enough for two or three days. And there would be some chicken breast, of course; there always was. She decided to fill one Thermos bottle with the hot soup, and the other with hot coffee. So she went to work, making delicate little chicken sandwiches, heating the soup and the coffee, and working happily in her own kitchen, where her faithful servants had not allowed her to lift a finger to work for years. It was fun, she told herself.

Yet all the time she was watching out the kitchen window, looking for somebody to come down the river. She worked swiftly to be ready if anyone came. And then she saw her young knight come out of the brick cottage and down the icy pathway, and she hurried into the living room to be ready to open the front door for him in case he came up again.

He came. With that grave, competent smile on his face.

“She’s recovered consciousness fully now,” he announced as he stepped inside the room and shut the door after him. “The doctor isn’t sure yet how serious it is, but at least she is able to speak. He says it looks to him as if it might be merely a case of exhaustion from having worked too hard on too little food. Of course the heart might be more affected then he can tell at present, but he hopes it isn’t serious. And the first thing that woman said when she came to herself was, ‘Don’t let my daughter know I fainted. Please don’t! She’ll be so worried, and she mustn’t lose her job! I’ll be all right now.’ The nurse is going to try to make something for her to eat, but there doesn’t seem to be much that’s suitable in the house. The doctor told me to ask if you can spare a little milk for immediate use. The child says her mother ate no breakfast this morning.”

“Milk? Why certainly! Here’s a whole bottle. Wait, I’ll get a basket. I have some other things ready. Coffee and chicken soup in Thermos bottles, and some chicken sandwiches. I thought that mother had been too used up to do much cooking. And here, put in a loaf of bread and a carton of butter. Some oranges, too, might come in handy.”

“That’s great, Lady Winthrop, I’m sure they’ll all come in for use and everybody grateful, including the nurse and doctor. I don’t think the people are exactly poor, just pretty hard up for the present, moving expenses and the like. The daughter has a job down at the first munitions plant. She hadn’t had it but a week or so, and I judge from the few words the mother said that she’s afraid she might lose it if she came home to look after her mother.”

“Poor child!” said the old lady. “I wish I might go over and help. I will when my car gets back. You see, I had a bad fall and sprained my knee and strained my ankle and I can’t walk very far, especially on snow and ice. I have to go everywhere in my car. It is providential that you came along. You’ve been wonderful!”

“Oh, I haven’t done much. I’m glad you called me.”

“Yes? Well, you see, I was watching for you. I’ve seen you go skating by on the river for several days. I knew you hadn’t gone by yet but it was your usual time, so I just watched for you. I hoped maybe you’d come. Who are you, anyway? Ought I to know your name? You seem to know mine.”

The young man smiled.

“No, you wouldn’t remember me. I’m Mrs. Haversett’s nephew, Val Willoughby. I stayed here with my aunt Mrs. Haversett for a year when I was a kid, while my mother was receiving treatment with a specialist in Vienna. I’ve been here several times since for a few days at a time. But I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me. It was a good many years ago. When Mother came back we went to the West Coast to live, and my trips east since have been brief and hurried.”

Lady Winthrop was studying the young man’s face, and gradually comprehension came to her eyes.

“Willoughby! Oh, you were little Valiant Willoughby, weren’t you? Yes, I remember the sturdy little boy with the round eyes and wide grin. It was your eyes and your grin that made you seem familiar when you came up the hill. And what are you doing here now? Visiting your aunt again?”

“Well, not exactly visiting. I’m staying at my aunt’s, of course, but I’m here for work now, not fun. I have a job down at the airplane factory.”

“Oh, you have! Well, aren’t you going to be very late to it? And it’s all my fault, of course.”

“Well, yes, I’ll be later than usual. But I’m in a way my own boss. Nobody will say anything. I’ll explain, of course, that it was an emergency, though I’m not really answerable to anyone but myself. But I guess I had better get going. They’ll be needing these things across the river, and then the doctor thought I had better stop and tell the daughter. She might blame us for not letting her know. The doctor feels it might be serious later, perhaps, although he thinks when the woman gets something to eat she may rally and be really on the mend. He says she’s probably been going on her nerve for several days. Perhaps longer. Well, so long! I’ll be seeing you again. I’ll let you know tonight how things go.”

She watched the young man striding down the snowy way on those treacherous-looking skates. How nimbly he trotted down that crusted slope! How skillfully he skimmed out upon the glassy surface of the river and went on his way with the basket balanced so easily on one arm.

She watched him out of sight, till presently she saw him returning, and when he neared the foot of the hill he lifted his cap in a courteous bow and pointed on down the stream. He was hurrying now to the city.

She opened her door and waved a frail hand in acknowledgment and got another wave from the cap in his hand as he turned and sailed off toward Hemlock Rocks.

Chapter 2

When Frances Fernley was ready to go to her job that morning she turned back and looked at her mother.

“Oh Mother, I wish you’d promise me something. Promise me you won’t do a bit of work until I get back. There are hardly any dishes, and Bonnie can do those. I promised her she might, and you know she’s very careful handling them. Besides, the ones we are using are just the old cracked ones anyway, and even if one broke it wouldn’t be much loss. Now Mother, you will go right upstairs and lie down and get a real sleep, won’t you? I’m so worried about you. And you know I can’t keep my mind on my work when I’m worried. If you would just promise me I know you wouldn’t break your word. Please, Mummie!”

“All right,” said the mother with a weak shimmer of a smile on her tired, worried face.

“You know the rest of the goods will probably come late this afternoon,” went on the girl, “and we all want to be fresh and rested to get things in apple pie order before we sleep. You know you can do a lot more if you are really rested, Mother. And there isn’t so much that needs doing now before the other furniture gets here. You take a good long nap on your bed, and then about eleven o’clock you and Bonnie run over to the store and get what we’ll need for dinner. That’s enough for you to do today. Will you really do that, Mother?”

“Why yes, surely I’ll rest. Now run along quick, Frannie, or you’ll be late for your work.”

So the girl had stooped and kissed her mother, and then gone carefully down the wooden steps to the ice, stopping to make sure the lacing of her skates was fastened firmly, then went skimming off down the ice, looking back to wave good-bye and blow a kiss to Bonnie at the window.

As she went skimming along in the bright morning air her thoughts were with her white-faced mother whom she realized was working too hard. It was all too evident. She tried to think how she might make these few hard days at the beginning easier for her. Of course, she could have stayed at home today and helped more, but she had a good job with an amazing salary for such a young beginner as she was, and both she and her mother felt they must not trifle with it, especially not now right at the beginning of things. A little later when she was sure of herself and could take some time to help get settled, perhaps she could find a young girl who would come in to do some of the heavier work, or a stronger, older woman to take the burden from her mother. For the mother had warned her that they must not spend any more of their tiny capital in hiring help until it was absolutely necessary, and until Frannie was sure she was going to be satisfactory to her boss and that her job was dependable. She must not take success as an assured thing until she had been tried out by her superior.

So, against her strong intuitions she had gone away that morning, hoping that all would be well until she got back and resolving to inquire around and find out whether there was a woman she could get who would be right for them. Maybe some of the women who lived in those smaller houses over in that far row. And yet those houses must, of course, be filled with people who had money, for they had to be bought. They were not for rent. And that took money, more down payment than they owned. The little tumbledown brick where they lived was quite old and just ready to fall apart or they would not have been able to rent it.

Another thing that worried her was that they had no close neighbors. Those houses in that far row were at such a distance that she was not sure if they were even finished. Maybe nobody lived in them yet. That made her a little uneasy to leave her mother and sister alone all day. Suppose something happened! There would be nobody nearby to go to for help. But of course nothing would happen. Not in the daytime. And pretty soon they would get a telephone so Mother wouldn’t have to go to the store for groceries. The store was five blocks away. But they had been so delighted at the idea of living near the river. It would be so lovely in the summer. And now, too, all frozen this way, it was wonderful, and it was saving her carfare, too. She was going to get Bonnie a pair of skates and teach her to skate. She was not too young to learn. When she got home this evening she would look in some of the big boxes that had come yesterday and see if possibly her own first skates weren’t there somewhere. The ones her dear father had taught her to skate on so very long ago.

So she hurried along, over the smooth ice, so glad the way was clear, so glad it had not snowed in the night. It was wonderful weather; five whole days, ever since they had moved, there had been clear, cold weather. Of course it couldn’t last much longer, and then she would have to start earlier to walk to the bus that would take her to the plant.

She sighed at the thought. It was so much pleasanter going this way—no crowded buses, no stuffy air. Just this grand cold snap in the tingling crisp air and sunshine. It made the blood simply dance in her cheeks and gave her such a free feeling, almost as if she were really happy again, the way she used to be before her father died and there were not so many burdens to bear. Mother looking so worn and sad, so worried at her having to go off into the world and work. Oh, of course Mother didn’t mind her working. But she did hate to have her go off into conditions that were all strange and new to her. Mother had old-fashioned, sweet ideas that a girl ought to be guarded and not have to go and work in offices among men. Mother wanted to know the people herself among whom her daughter worked all day. Someday, perhaps she would understand that it wasn’t bad. It was really very nice and orderly, and the men among whom she worked were kind and pleasant. And then there were a number of boys, just like the high school boys with whom she had so recently been associated. Some young college men, too, who had been debarred from military service because of some physical defect or weakness. They were fine and kind, and she had a feeling that everybody in the plant was wonderful.

She had come out into the world of business with the idea that she must be on her guard wherever she went. But she was gradually coming to feel that attitude had been a mistake. All the men she met were so helpful, so ready to tell her what to do when she asked a question, that she gave her sweet, shy smile in return. It gave her a happy, satisfied feeling. She must make her mother understand how kind and in earnest everyone was, and that perhaps would keep her from her constant worrying.

So it was with an almost light heart that Frannie sat down on the snowy bank to remove her skates and slip on her other shoes for the day, and then tucking her skates into the ample pockets of her old coat, she ran lightly up the steps that led to the door of the building where she worked.

As she went toward her desk, two young men stood at the end of the room and talked, watching covertly the different people in the room.

“There she comes,” said one with a weak face and pale eyes. “Isn’t she a honey? Gosh, she’s a sight for sore eyes. And look how she walks. She arrives on skates by the river! And can she move? Just like some little bird! Boy! I’m telling you.”

“Yes, she sure is a smooth little number,” said the other, who went by the name of Spike Emberly, “I think I’ll make a date with her for tonight and try her out as a dancer.”

“Not on yer life you don’t,” growled the other. “She’s my find. You keep hands off or you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, will I?” leered the boy with the mop of dark, curly hair and bold eyes. “How do you know but you’ll be the sorry one? Well, here goes! Watch me!”

He strode ahead and fell into step with Frannie as she walked toward her desk. She looked up, startled, into the bold black eyes.

“Hello, beautiful!” He greeted her with the kind of grin that did not belong in her social stratum. “I’ve been waiting for you. Want to make a date? How about going places tonight? Take you to a swell joint for dinner. Good eats, good drinks, and then we’ll go dancing. That okay with you?”

Frannie gave him a frightened look and lifted her chin gravely.

“Thank you, no!” she said with finality. “I am busy this evening.”

“Then how about tomorrow evening? That’ll give me more time to make arrangements.”

“Thank you, no. My evenings are all occupied!”

“Say, now, that’s too bad. You really ought to take a day off now and then. Your health won’t stand that kind of life. A little fun now and then is what you need. Tell me where you live and I’ll call for you. You wouldn’t know what you’re missing till you try it. Come on, you try me out once and see if you don’t have the time of your life. Where do you live? I’ll call for you about seven-thirty or eight. How’s that?”