CAUGHT
"They never will go with you in this world," declared Mrs. McAllisterfinally to the distracted grandfather, "unless you give us time to breakthe news gradually. And above all, when Violet is so ill."
"Couldn't I see them?" begged the man, almost like a boy. "I couldpretend I was a friend of yours, visiting you, who liked children. Iwould promise not to tell them until you consented."
"That might do," said Dr. McAllister. "If they grew to like you beforethey knew who you were, it would make things easier, certainly."
So James Henry Cordyce's chauffeur was sent for a gold-monogrammedsuitcase and his young man to wait upon him, and Irish Mary held up herhands in despair when she learned for whom she must cook.
"Don't you worry, Mary Bridget Flynn," said Dr. McAllister withemphasis. "You could cook for the King of England! Just make one of yourpeach shortcakes for lunch and broil a chicken, and I'll answer forhim."
When lunch time came J. H. Cordyce saw all his grandchildren exceptViolet. He smiled with delight when he saw Jess coming down the stairsin her womanly fashion. Henry shook hands with him before he sat down,but he kept glancing at the stranger all through the meal.
"Where have I seen that man before?" he thought.
Mrs. McAllister had given the children's names clearly when sheintroduced them--Jess, Benny, and Henry. Henry James, she had added. Butshe had not added the man's name.
"She forgot," thought Jess. "Because she knows him so well, she thinkswe do."
But although nameless, the stranger caught their attention. He told themwonderful stories about a steel rail which held up an entire bridgeuntil the people had time to get off, about his collie dog, about acucumber in his garden, growing inside of a glass bottle. Henry wasinterested. Benny was fascinated.
"I'd like to see the cucumber," said Benny, pausing in the middle of hisshortcake.
"Would you, indeed?" said Mr. Cordyce, delighted. "Some day, if Mrs.McAllister is willing, you and I will ride over to my garden and pickit."
"And we'll bring it to Violet?" asked Benny, waiting breathlessly for ananswer.
"We'll bring it to Violet," agreed Mr. Cordyce, resuming his shortcake.
After lunch he went to sleep in the easy-chair in the doctor's bigoffice. That is, he threw his head back and shut his eyes, and breathedvery heavily. Jess went through the room once with ice water, humming,for Violet was better. But the moment she saw the stranger asleep, shestopped her singing abruptly and tiptoed the rest of the way. Then assuddenly she turned around and came back, and very carefully shoved acushion under the man's feet. It was so gently done that even if he hadbeen really asleep, he would never have wakened. As it was, he could notresist opening one eye the slightest crack to see the bright chestnuthair as it passed out of sight.
"No," he thought to himself, "if she really hated me, she would neverhave done that."
But the children were very far from hating him. They liked himimmensely. And when at last, one day, he was allowed to see Violet, andcame softly into her room with a nosegay of fragrant English doubleviolets, for her, they loved him. He won all their hearts when he pattedher dark head and told her very simply that he was sorry she had beensick.
It would be hard to say that J. H. Cordyce ever had a favoritegrandchild, but certainly his manner with Violet was very gentle. It wasclear to every one, even to the anxious nurse, that the stranger was nottiring the sick child. He told her in a pleasant everyday voice abouthis garden and his greenhouses where the violets came from--about theold Swede gardener who always said he must "vater the wi-lets."
"I'd love to see him," said Violet earnestly.
"How long you going to stay here?" Benny piped up.
It was not altogether a polite question, but it was clear to them allthat Benny wanted him to stay, so they all laughed.
"As long as they'll let me, my boy," answered the stranger quietly. Thenhe left the sick room, for he knew he should not stay long.
But something in the man's last sentence rang in Henry's ears. Herepeated it over and over in his mind, trying to remember where he hadheard that same voice say "my boy." He made an excuse to work in theflower beds along the veranda, in order to glance occasionally at theman's face, as he sat under a tree reading.
Often Henry thought he had caught hold of his truant memory. Then theman turned his head and he lost it again altogether. But suddenly itcame to him, as the man smiled over his book--it was the man who hadshaken hands with him on the day of the race! And he had said, "I likeyour spirit, my boy." That was it.
Henry sat down out of sight and weeded geraniums for a few moments. Itis a wonder he did not pull up geraniums instead of weeds, his mind wasso far away.
"I didn't remember him at first, because I was so jolly excited when heshook hands with me," decided Henry. Then he was apparentlythunderstruck afresh. He sat with his weeder on his knee and his mouthopen. "He's the man who passed me the cup with the wings!" He stoleanother look around the corner, and this satisfied him. "Same manexactly," he said.
When he had finished the flower bed he thought he heard the young doctormoving in the office. He stuck his head in the open door. The doctor satat his desk, taking notes from a book.
"Do you know who presented the prizes Field Day?" asked Henry curiously."Know what his name was?"
"James Cordyce, of the Steel Mills," replied the doctor carelessly. "J.H. Cordyce--over in Greenfield."
Dr. McAllister, to all appearances, returned to his notes. His eyes werelowered, at any rate. But for Henry the skies were reeling. He withdrewhis head and sat still on the step. That delightful man his_grandfather_? It was impossible. He was too young, to begin with. Henryexpected a white-haired gentleman with a cane and a terrible voice. Butall the time, he knew in his soul that it was not only possible, butreally true. He recalled the man's reply to Benny's direct question--hehad said he was going to stay as long as they would let him. Could it bethat the man knew them without introducing himself? A perfect torrent ofthoughts assailed Henry as he sat crouched on the office steps. It wasclear to him now that Mrs. McAllister had failed to mention his name onpurpose. It was a wonder Benny hadn't asked what it was, long beforethis. He noticed that the man was getting out of his chair under thetrees.
"It's now or never," thought Henry. "I've got to know!"
He walked eagerly after the man who was going toward the garden with hisback turned. Henry easily caught up with him, breathing with difficulty.The man turned around.
"Are you James Henry Cordyce of Greenfield?" panted Henry.
"I am, my boy," returned the man with a long look. "Does that questionof yours mean that _you_ know that _I_ know that you are Henry JamesCordyce?"
"Yes," said Henry, simply.
The man's eyes filled with tears, and J. H. Cordyce of the Steel Millsshook hands for the third time with his grandson, H. J. Cordyce of theHome for Tramps.
The Box-Car Children Page 14
