Martha By-the-Day

by Julie Mathilde Lippmann

  CHAPTER X

  Through all the days of suspense and doubt, Claire swung like a faithfullittle pendulum between home, the Shermans, and the hospital.

  Then, as hope strengthened, she was the bearer of gifts, flowers, fruit,toys from Mr. Ronald and his sister, which Martha acknowledged in herown characteristic fashion.

  "Tell'm the Slawson fam'ly is bound to be _in it._ It seems it's thewhole style for ladies to go under a operation, an' as I ain't eggsacklygot the time, Francie, she's keepin' up the tone for us. If you wanterfolla the fashions these days, you got to gather your skirts about you,tight as they are, an' run. But what's a little inconvenience, comparedwith knowin' you're cuttin' a dash!

  "Tell'm I thank'm, an' tell Lor'--Mister Ronald, it's good of'm to betryin' to get damages for Francie out o' the auta that run her down, an'if there was somethin' comin' to us to pay the doctors an' suchlike,it'd be welcome. But, somehow, I always was shy o' monkeyin' with thelaw. It's like to catch a body in such queer places, where you'd leastexpect. Before a fella knows it, he's _up_ for liable, or breaches o'promise, an' his private letters to the bosom of his fam'ly (whichnowadays they're mostly ruffles), his letters to the bosom of his fam'lyis read out loud in court, an' then printed in the papers next mornin',an' everybody's laughin' at'm, because he called his wife 'My darlin'Tootsie,' which she never been accustomed to answer to anythin' but thename o' Sarah. An' it's up to him to pay the costs, when ten to one it'sthe other party's to blame. I guess p'raps we better leave good enoughalone. If we begin to get the l'yers after us, no tellin' where we'llend. Who knows but they might find the accident injured the auto, 'steado' Francie. If we work hard, an' they give us time, me an' Sammy can,maybe, make out to pay the doctors. But add to that, to have to buy abrand-new machine for the fella that run over Francie--that'd be sorterdiscouragin'."

  She paused, and Claire began to pull on her gloves.

  "By the way," said Martha, "how's things down to the Shermans'? Seemslike a hunderd years since I was there. The las' time I laid eyes onEliza, she was in excellent spirits--I seen the bottle. I wonder ifshe's still--very still, takin' a sly nip on the side, as she calls it,which means a sly nip off the sideboard. You can take it from me, if shedon't let up, before she knows it she'll be a teetotal wrack."

  "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Eliza," observed Claire, smiling.

  "Why, of course, you haven't, which it wouldn't be a pleasure, anyhow.But what I reely want to know is, how you makin' out with Radcliffe? Ibeen so took up with Francie all this while, I clean forgot to askbefore. Is he behavin' all right? Does he mind what you say? Does he dohis lessons good?"

  Claire's brows drew together in a troubled little frown, as she laboredover the clasp of her glove.

  "O, Radcliffe," she let fall carelessly. "Radcliffe's an unruly littleHessian, of course, but I suppose all boys are mischievous at times."

  Martha pondered. "Well, not all boys are mischievous in just the sameway, thank God! This trouble o' Francie's has threw me all out in moreways than one. If everything had 'a' went as I'd expected, I'd beenworkin' at the Shermans' straight along these days, an' you wouldn't 'a'had a mite o' trouble with the little fella. Him an' I understands eachother perfeckly, an' with me a loomin' up on the landscape, he kindersees the sense o' walkin' a chalk-line, not kickin' up his heels toofrisky. I'd calculated on being there, to sorter back you up, till you'dgot uster the place, an' made 'em understand you mean business."

  Claire laughed, a quick, sharp little laugh.

  "O, I think I'm gradually making them understand I mean business," shesaid. "And I'm sure it is better, since I have to be there at all, thatI should be there without you, independent of any help. I couldn't makeRadcliffe respect my authority, if I depended on some one else toenforce it. It's just one of those cases where one has to fight one'sown battle alone."

  "Then it _is_ a battle?" Martha inquired quietly.

  "O, it's a battle, 'all right,'" laughed Claire mirthlessly, and beforeMrs. Slawson could probe her further, she managed to make her escape.

  She did not wish to burden Martha with her vexations. Martha hadtroubles of her own. Moreover, those that were most worrisome to Claire,Martha, in the very nature of things, would not understand.

  Claire's first few weeks at the Shermans' had been uneventful enough.Radcliffe had found amusement in the novelty of the situation, haddeigned to play school with her, and permitted her to "make believe" shewas "the teacher." He was willing to "pretend" to be her "scholar," justas he would have been willing to pretend to be the horse, if he andanother boy had been playing, and the other boy had chosen to be driverfor a while. But turn about is fair play, and when the days passed, andClaire showed no sign of relinquishing her claim, he grew restless,mutinous, and she had all she could do to keep him in order.

  Gradually it began to dawn upon him that this very little person, kindand companionable as she seemed, suffered under the delusion that he wasgoing to obey her--that, somehow, she was going to constrain him to obeyher. Of course, this was the sheerest nonsense. How could she make himdo anything he didn't want to do, since his mother had told her, in hispresence, that he was to be governed by love alone, and, fortunately,her lack of superior size and strength forbade her _love_ fromexpressing itself as, he shudderingly remembered, Martha's had done onone occasion. No, plainly he had the advantage of Miss Lang, but untilshe clearly understood it, there were apt to be annoyances. So, withouttaking the trouble to make the punishment fit the crime, he casuallylocked her in the sitting-room closet one morning. She had steppedinside to hang up her hat and coat as usual, and it was quite easy,swiftly, noiselessly, to close the door upon her, and turn the key.

  He paused a moment, choking back his nervous laughter, waiting to hearher bang on the panel, and clamor to be let out. But when she made nooutcry, when, beyond one or two futile turnings of the knob, there wasno further attempt on her part to free herself, he stole upstairs tothe schoolroom, and made merry over his clever exploit.

  For a full minute after she found herself in darkness, Claire did notrealize she was a prisoner. The door had swung to after her, shethought, that was all. But, when she turned the knob, and still it didnot open, she began to suspect the truth. Her first impulse was to callout, but her better judgment told her it would be better to wait withwhat dignity she might until Radcliffe tired of his trick, or some oneelse came and released her. Radcliffe would tire the more quickly, shereasoned, if she did not raise a disturbance. When he saw she was not tobe teased, he would come and let her out. She stood with her hot cheekpressed against the cool wood of the closet-door, waiting for him tocome. And listening for his steps, she heard other steps--other stepswhich approached, and entered the sitting-room. She heard the voices ofMrs. Sherman and Mr. Ronald in earnest conversation.

  "If I thought such a thing were possible I'd send her away to-morrow,"Mrs. Sherman was saying in a high-pitched, excited voice.

  "Why such delay? Why not to-day?" inquired Mr. Ronald ironically.

  "But, of course," continued his sister, ignoring his interruption, "Iknow there's nothing to be really afraid of."

  "Well, then, if you know there's nothing to be afraid of, what _are_ youafraid of?"

  "I'm not really afraid. I'm just talking things over. You see, she's souncommonly pretty, and--men are men, and you're no exception."

  "I hope not. I don't want to be an exception."

  "Don't you think she's uncommonly pretty?"

  "No, I don't think I should call her--_pretty_," said Mr. Ronald with anemphasis his sister might well have challenged, if she had not been sopreoccupied with her own thoughts that she missed its point.

  "Well, _I_ do. I think she's quite pretty enough to excuse, I mean,_explain_ your having a passing fancy for her."

  "I haven't a passing fancy for her."

  "Well, I'm much relieved to hear you say so, for even if it were only apassing fancy, I'd feel I ought to send her away. You never can tell howsuch thing
s will develop."

  "You certainly can't."

  "And you may rest assured mother and I don't want you to ruin your lifeby throwing yourself away on a penniless, unknown little governess, whenyou might have your choice from among the best-born, wealthiest girlsin town."

  "Miss Lang is as well-born as any one we know."

  "We have only her word for it."

  "No, her nurse, an old family servant, Martha Slawson, corroboratesher--if you require corroboration."

  "Don't you? Would you be satisfied to pick some one off the street, asit were, and take her into your house and give her your innocent childto train?"

  "My innocent children being so extremely vague, I am not concerningmyself as to their education. But I certainly accept Miss Lang's word,and I accept Martha's."

  "You're easily satisfied. Positively, Frank, I believe you _have_ afancy for the girl, in spite of what you say. And for all our sakes, formother's and mine and yours and--yes--even hers, it will be best for meto tell her to go."

  "I rather like the way you rank us. Mother and you first--then I come,and last--_even_ the poor little girl!"

  "Well, you may laugh if you want to, but when a child like Radcliffenotices that you're not indifferent to her, there must be some truth init. He confided to me last night, 'Uncle Frank likes Miss Lang a lot. Iguess she's his best girl! Isn't she his best girl?' I told him_certainly not_. But I lay awake most of the night, worrying about it."

  Mr. Ronald had evidently had enough of the interview. Claire could hearhis firm steps, as he strode across the floor to the door.

  "I advise you to quit worrying, Catherine," he said. "It doesn't pay.Moreover, I assure you I've no _passing fancy_ (I quote your words) forMiss Lang. I hope you won't be so foolish as to dismiss her on myaccount. She's an excellent teacher, a good disciplinarian. It would bedifficult to find another as capable as she, one who, at the same time,would put up with Radcliffe's waywardness, and your--_our_--(I'll put itpicturesquely, after the manner of Martha) our indiosincrazies. Take myadvice. Don't part with Miss Lang. She's the right person in the rightplace. Good-morning!"

  "Frank, Frank! Don't leave me like that. I know I've terribly annoyedyou. I can't bear to feel you're provoked with me, and yet I'm onlyacting for your good. Please kiss me good-by. I'm going away. I won'tsee you for two whole days. I'm going to Tuxedo this morning to stayover night with Amy Pelham. There's a man she's terribly interested in,and she wants me to meet him, and tell her what I think of him. He'sbeen attentive to her for ever so long, and yet he doesn't--his name isMr. Robert--" Her words frayed off in the distance, as she hurriedlyfollowed her brother out into the hall and downstairs.

  How long Claire stood huddled against the closet-door she never knew.The first thing of which she was clearly conscious was the feel of a keystealthily moved in the lock beneath her hand. Then the sounds offootsteps lightly tiptoeing away. Mechanically she turned the knob, thedoor yielded, and she staggered blindly out from the darkness into thesunlit room. It was deserted.

  If Mrs. Sherman had been there, Claire would have given way at once,letting her sense of outraged pride escape her in a torrent of tears, astorm of indignant protest. Happily, there being no one to cry to, shehad time to gather herself together before going up to face Radcliffe.When she entered the schoolroom, he pretended to be studiously busiedwith his books, and so did not notice that she was rather a long timeclosing the door after her, and that she also had business with the lockof the door opposite. He really only looked up when she stationedherself behind her desk, and summoned him to recite.

  "I do' want to!" announced Radcliffe resolutely.

  "Very well," said Claire, "then we'll sit here until you do."

  Radcliffe grinned. It seemed to him things were all going his way, thisclear, sunny morning. He began to whistle, in a breathy undertone.

  Claire made no protest. She simply sat and waited.

  Radcliffe took up his pencil, and began scrawling pictures over bothsides of his slate, exulting in the squeaking sounds he produced. Still_the teacher_ did not interfere. But when, tired of his scratching, heconcluded the time had arrived for his grand demonstration, his crowningdeclaration of independence, he rose, carelessly shoved his books aside,strode to the door, intending masterfully to leave the room,and--discovered he was securely locked and bolted in. In a flash he wasacross the room, tearing at the lock of the second door with franticfingers. That, too, had been made fast. He turned upon Claire like alittle fiend, his eyes flashing, his hands clenched.

  "You--you--you two-cent Willie!" he screamed.

  Claire pretended not to see or hear. In reality she was acutelyconscious of every move he made, for, small as he was, his pent-in ragegave him a strength she might well fear to put to the test. It was thetug of war. The question was, who would be conqueror?

  Through the short hours of the winter forenoon, hours that seemed asinterminable to Claire as they did to Radcliffe, the battle raged. Therewas no sign of capitulation on either side.

  In the course of the morning, and during one of Radcliffe's fiercestoutbreaks, Claire took up the telephone instrument and quietlyinstructed Shaw to bring no luncheon-trays to the schoolroom atmid-day.

  "Two glasses of hot milk will be all we need," she said, whereuponRadcliffe leaped upon her, trying to wrest the transmitter from herhand, beating her with his hard little fists.

  "I won't drink milk! I won't! I won't!" he shouted madly. "An' I'll_kill_ you, if you won't let me have my lunch, you--you--you_mizzer'ble_ two-cent Willie!"

  As the day drew on, his white face grew flushed, her fevered one white,and both were haggard and lined from the struggle. Then, at about threeo'clock, Mr. Ronald telephoned up to say he wished Radcliffe to go for adrive with him.

  Claire replied it was impossible.

  "Why?" came back to her over the wire.

  "Because he needs punishment, and I am going to see that he gets it."

  "And if I interfere?"

  "I resign at once. Even as it is--"

  "Do you think you are strong enough--strong enough _physically_, tofight to the finish?"

  "I am strong enough for anything."

  "I believe you. But if you should find him one too many for you, I shallbe close at hand, and at a word from you I will come to the rescue."

  "No fear of my needing help. Good-by!"

  She hung up the receiver with a click of finality.

  Outside, the sky grew gray and threatening. Inside, the evening shadowsbegan to gather. First they thickened in the corners of the room; thenspread and spread until the whole place turned vague and dusky.

  The first violence of his rage was spent, but Radcliffe, sullen andunconquered still, kept up the conflict in silent rebellion. He had notdrunk his milk, so neither had Claire hers. The two glasses stooduntouched upon her desk, where she had placed them at noon. It was sostill in the room Claire would have thought the boy had fallen asleep,worn out with his struggles, but for the quick, catching breaths that,like soundless sobs, escaped him every now and then. It had been dark along, long time when, suddenly, a shaft of light from a just lit windowopposite, struck over across to them, reflecting into the shadow, andmaking visible Radcliffe's little figure cowering back in the shelterof a huge leather armchair. He looked so pitifully small and appealing,that Claire longed to gather him up in her arms, but she forebore andsat still and waited.

  Then, at last, just as the clock of a nearby church most solemnly boomedforth eight reverberating strokes, a chastened little figure slid out ofthe great chair, and groped its way slowly, painfully along until itreached Claire's side.

  "I will--be--good!" Radcliffe whispered chokingly, so low she had tobend her head to hear.

  Claire laid her arms about him and he clung to her neck, trembling.