Brentwood

by Grace Livingston Hill

  They laughed and kept passing their father things, quite confusing him, but succeeding in turning his thoughts away from the new child for the moment, till he really got a bite or two swallowed.

  But he came back to realities presently.

  “But I don’t understand,” he said, looking keenly at Ted. “How did you get such a dinner as this? You didn’t go somewhere and charge all these things, did you?”

  “No, Dad. They are every one of them paid for,” said Ted as he handed out the last plate and sat down to enjoy his own dinner.

  “You didn’t do anything that I wouldn’t approve, did you, Son?”

  “Not a thing, Dad. Everything aboveboard and honorable. All the bills paid and everything going slick. Coal in the cellar, fire in the heater, gas in the range, water in the pipes, light in the wires, and the pantry full of food. Have some celery, Dad, and just be thankful.”

  “But, my son, I cannot eat until I understand.”

  “All right, tell him, Betts!” said the boy.

  “Why, Father, it’s just that we have a fairy sister with pockets full of money, and she insisted on paying everything,” said Betty.

  “Do you mean,” asked the father, laying his fork down beside his plate with a look of finality, “that we are feasting on Mrs. Wetherill’s money? I could not possibly do that, my dear.”

  There was such pain and pride in his voice that Marjorie’s heart was thrown into a panic. Was pride after all to put an end to her new hopes and plans?

  “Father,” she said earnestly, and did not realize how naturally she had called him that, “it isn’t her money at all. It is my money. It was left to me to do just as I liked with it. She even left me a letter suggesting that I would like to hunt you up and use my money in making you happy. I came here at once as soon as I heard about you. Well, I didn’t hear very much about you, only the address, and the fact that I was one of the twins, and that Mother wanted very much to see me and came after me once not so very long ago. That was about all Mrs. Wetherill knew. It was all she ever told me. And as soon as I knew I had a living own mother I came to find her. I didn’t know whether you wanted me or not, or whether anybody was alive or not, but I had to come and see. I had to find out if there was anybody who really loved me a little bit.”

  There was the catch of a sob in her voice as she finished and a mist in her eyes. Even young Bud paused in his chewing for an instant and looked at her sympathetically.

  “Tourse ve vants you,” piped up Sunny, with his mouth full of baked potato and butter.

  Then the father came out of his sorrowful daze.

  “Want you?” said he tenderly. “How we have wanted you! How we have longed for you, and talked about you, and tried not to blame one another, your mother and I, for having let you go! You will never know how we have suffered. How each of us has blamed ourselves! Your mother found out that I was desperately ill and ought not to work for a year or two, and she was weak and ill herself, and was over-influenced by Mr. Wetherill. He was kindness itself and very generous, but he was quite determined to have you. And when they came to me it was represented to me as a necessity that Betty have the care of an expensive specialist or she could not live the life of a normal, healthy child. So in a moment of weakness we both gave our consent and signed the necessary papers. But oh, how we have regretted it all these years, and we did our best to have the papers revoked and get you back.”

  “Oh, dear Father!” said Marjorie, deeply stirred, and putting out a shy hand to lay upon his. “I’m so glad it is not too late for me to try to make up just a little for your suffering!”

  He gathered her hand into his thin, nervous one and clasped it close.

  “Does your mother know?” he asked of Betty.

  “Not yet. I thought she ought to get a good sleep first before we excited her. Besides, there was so much to do to get things going right again,” explained Betty.

  “Well, this will be meat and drink to your mother,” said the father, gazing intently at the new, unknown daughter. “I’d better go right up and tell her.”

  “No, Dad! You sit still and eat your dinner. Mother’s asleep. You’ll have to wait until she wakes up. You don’t want to make her sick, you know. Come now, you’ve got to be sensible.” It was Ted who set up authority, talking as much like his father’s voice as he could, till they all laughed, even Mr. Gay.

  Then there came a moan from Bonnie in the other room and Marjorie, with a quick glance at Betty, slipped out and went to her.

  They heard the clink of a spoon in a glass as Marjorie coaxed the medicine into the child’s mouth, and then she was back almost immediately.

  “I don’t think she’s quite so hot,” she said happily.

  And then they had to tell the father about Bonnie, and the pleasant homey talk of everyday matters helped them to eat more quietly and normally than if they had had a great scene of excitement over the new-found sister.

  “Well, I’d better run down and look at the heater,” said Mr. Gay, when at last the delicious supper was finished and he drew back from the table. “I didn’t put much coal on, and I wouldn’t have it go out because we haven’t much coal, you know, nor any more kindling.”

  “That’s all right, Dad,” said Ted, putting a detaining hand on his father’s arm. “Trust me for the heater from now on. There’s a whole lot of kindling down in the cellar, besides two tons of coal, and the fire is going for all she’s worth. Don’t you feel how warm it is in here?”

  The father looked at his boy and then across to the new-found daughter. Then his eyes traveled around the rest of the group, and suddenly he bowed his head in a kind of shame.

  “I’ve failed!” he said sadly. “And my little girl had to come and put us all on our feet again.”

  “Okay, Dad. She’s put us on our feet, but you didn’t fail. It wasn’t your fault that you nearly got your death in the war and haven’t had half your health since. It wasn’t your fault that Mr. Matthews died and the firm went to the wall and there wasn’t any job for you to keep. It wasn’t your fault that the bank went flooey and took all your savings. And it wasn’t your fault that there weren’t any more positions waiting for anyone just then when you needed one.”

  “No, it wasn’t my fault, perhaps, but if I’d been half a man, I would have been able to do something.” There was dejection and bitterness in his tone. But Ted went on eagerly.

  “Look here, Dad. None of that! Look at the family you’ve raised. Wasn’t that an achievement? Aren’t we something to be proud of? Now, quit your glooming, and let’s be glad. We’re all here together, new sister and all, and we have a fire, and plenty to eat, and no bills anywhere. Isn’t that enough to smile about for one night?”

  “It is,” said the father heartily, “it is. And not the least of all that we have our other little girl here.” He gave Marjorie a loving smile, as if he was afraid even yet to let himself be happy.

  “Now, Dad,” said Ted, pushing back his chair and getting up. “You go upstairs and get to bed, see? And you’re to sleep in Betty’s bed. We’ve got things all arranged, and you can trust the whole thing to us.”

  “Oh,” said the father firmly, “I can’t go to bed yet. I want to be awake when your mother wakes up and tell her our little girl has come back.”

  “Sure, you can tell her. You ought to be the one to tell her. But we’ve all agreed it would better not be tonight. Mother needs to be perfectly quiet tonight or her fever will come up again, and you don’t want her to get pneumonia, do you, just because she gets excited? Now you go and get to bed. There isn’t a thing you can do tonight. Positively. Tomorrow we’ll talk things over and have a good time, but tonight you’re getting a good rest. Perhaps you don’t know that was the doctor’s orders. Now, scram!” And Ted led his reluctant parent toward the stairs again, and himself saw him up to bed.

  When he came down the girls were washing the dishes together and chattering as happily as if they had always done it every night of thei
r lives.

  “Betts, what shall I put on that cot to make it up for Bud?” said Ted.

  “You put that cot down here in the dining room,” said Betty, “over there beside Sunny’s crib. I’m sleeping on it tonight to keep our new sister company, and besides, we don’t want to bother to take Sunny’s crib upstairs tonight. It might wake Mother. So you just keep Bud with you tonight, and we’ll see about it in the morning. Don’t worry about bedclothes, I’ll find something that will do for tonight.”

  Ted looked at Betty, opened his lips to object, and then closed them meaningfully. And just as plainly as if he had spoken and Betty had assented, Marjorie knew that he had been about to say to Betty that there weren’t any bedclothes at all for that cot.

  Marjorie went into the dark parlor and looked out the window and off toward the city, where the sky lit up like a distant garden of bright flowers, lights everywhere. Presently she turned and went over to the little sick girl, touched her lightly with an experienced hand, then came back to the kitchen where Ted and Betty were persuading the two boys that it was bedtime.

  “Is there a place near here where I could get a taxi?” she asked.

  “A taxi?” said Betty, looking up in dismay. “I thought you said you were going to stay all night.”

  “Why, I am, of course,” said Marjorie brightly, “but I was thinking perhaps I could run back to my hotel and get my baggage. It wouldn’t take me long, and I’d like to have my toothbrush and things. If you thought you could lie down beside Bonnie for a little while I’d hurry right back. It doesn’t take so long to go places in taxis, you know.”

  “Of course,” said Betty. “I can manage nicely. Only you mustn’t go out alone. It’s pretty dark, and you might get lost.”

  “Couldn’t I go for you?” asked Ted.

  “No,” said Marjorie quickly. “I’d better go myself and pay the bill and tell them I’m checking out.”

  “Well, then, Ted had better go with you,” said Betty decidedly. “It isn’t a very nice neighborhood you would have to pass through in going to the taxi stand.”

  “You go that way when you go to the office,” said Bud, eager to please.

  “Oh well, I’m used to it. Besides, it’s night,” said Betty.

  “It isn’t very late,” said Marjorie looking at her watch. “It’s only quarter past seven. We had dinner early, remember, and besides, it’s winter. It gets dark early. I’m not afraid. Ted, aren’t you awfully tired? I hate to take you out in the cold again.”

  “Tired, nothing. Of course I’ll go. I wouldn’t let you go alone. What do you think I am? Only, maybe you’ll be ashamed of me. I haven’t anything to doll up in.”

  Marjorie laughed.

  “What do you think I am? Well, come on then. I’ll be ready in half a second. Betty, if Bonnie stirs, just give her a spoonful of her medicine. She’ll probably sleep all right. If she wakes up, have some orange juice ready and give her a few spoonfuls. Don’t you want me to fix some before I go? Mother might need some, too. You must be awfully tired.”

  “No, I’ll fix it. It will be such a pleasure to have oranges to fix, that it will be a real treat.”

  So Marjorie and her new brother started off together into the dark little street. Marjorie tucked her arm inside Ted’s and fell into step with him chummily.

  “My, but it’s nice to have a brother of my own!” she said. “I’ve always wanted a brother and a sister.”

  “Well, you’ve got plenty of them now,” said Ted, both pleased and embarrassed.

  The night was cold, and little lazy flakes of snow were floating down. Marjorie wondered if Ted was warmly enough clad, but she did not dare to ask about it. She was glad when they found a taxi and got in, glad that it had a heater. So they rode down to the city together, Marjorie skillfully questioning, finding out little things about her family without seeming to do so.

  Just before they reached the hotel, she asked, “Ted, aren’t there stores somewhere that would be open at this hour? I would like to get a few things.”

  “Sure. All kinds of stores, if you know where to find them. Not the swell places, of course. They close at five o’clock, though I remember some of even those are open this week till nine o’clock. It’s Christmas week, you know.”

  “Oh, that’s so! That’s nice. Well, then, before we get my baggage, let’s drive to a department store. I won’t be long getting what I want, and we can take another taxi from there to the hotel.”

  So presently they got out at a large department store.

  Ted watched his pretty sister with admiration as she went her way, asking directions to the department she wanted. He was proud to be with her, yet ashamed of his own shabbiness.

  But he was amazed when they ended up in the blanket section and Marjorie purchased three great warm double blankets and three of single bed size. They were soft and bright, and Ted stared in amazement.

  Suddenly he stepped to her side and said in a low tone, “What’s the big idea? You don’t need all those. We are used to getting along with what we have. Get one for yourself, maybe, but we’ll be all right with any old thing.”

  Marjorie turned to him lovingly.

  “Ted, look here, I thought you and I were partners in trying to get our family comfortable as quickly as possible. Please don’t try to hinder me. I knew by the look in Betty’s eyes when you talked about the cot that she was hard put to it to find any bedding for it at all. She told me a little about things, and I know these things are needed. Don’t try to hinder me. Help all you can. And if you don’t say anything about it, nobody is going to notice a blanket or two more or less.”

  Then Marjorie bought some sheets and pillowcases and a few towels, and they started for the street door, accompanied by two boys carrying their big boxes.

  “We travel in style,” said Ted with a grin as he hailed another taxi, helped his sister in, and stowed the big boxes around them. “The beggar and the maid.”

  Marjorie laughed.

  “I’m having fun,” she said.

  “Here, too,” said Ted.

  At the hotel, Ted stayed in the taxi while Marjorie went in to pay her bill. She came out with a porter carrying her suitcases. When they reached the little house on Aster Street again, Ted’s spirits rose to the top notch.

  “I’m the advance guard of Santa Claus!” he announced in subdued jubilance as he bore the big boxes into the hall and put them carefully down.

  Betty stared in growing amazement as the soft blankets and smooth sheets came to light, and finally sat down on the lowest step of the stairs and cried into a pink blanket for sheer joy in its lovely woolliness.

  She looked up at last and smiled wearily.

  “I never thought this morning that we would be as happy as this by night,” she said.

  Ted grinned.

  “I told ya,” he said. “I told ya God wasn’t dead!” and then he went off down cellar to fix the furnace for the night, and his new sister stared after him and wondered how a boy like Ted came to say a thing like that. He had said it half sheepishly, but as if he meant it.

  Then she turned and asked after the patients.

  “Father’s sound asleep,” said Betty. “He didn’t even rouse when Mother woke. I gave her the medicine and some orange juice and she went right off to sleep again. Bonnie has talked in her sleep a little, but she often does that. I don’t think she is nearly as hot as she was when you went away. You go feel her.”

  And so presently Marjorie had them all tucked away to sleep under the new blankets and sheets, and she was thankful to lie down. It had been a long day, but it had been an interesting one. There was a good deal to think over, but instead she went to sleep as quick as her head touched the pillow, and none of the questions she wanted to think over and decide got even a passing thought.

  Just as she was sinking away to sleep she wondered dreamily, “What would I have thought if I had known I was coming into a situation like this?” And the answer came quickly from her l
oving heart, “Oh, I’m glad I came!”

  And still she had not seen her own mother.

  Chapter 8

  Marjorie was awakened the next morning by soft, wet little lips on her cheek and soft, experimenting little fingers trying to pry open her eyes.

  “ ’Nother Betty, will there be bretsus again this morning?” a little voice whispered in her ear.

  And there was Sunny, in his ragged little pajamas, standing beside her couch. He had somehow managed to climb out of his crib and find her. The rest of the house was still very silent. Perhaps nobody was awake yet.

  Marjorie laughed softly and looked at her watch. It was five minutes after eight! She glanced over at Bonnie’s bed, and there was Bonnie, very pale and washed-out, sitting bolt upright in her small bed, staring at her.

  “Oh, lie down, darling,” said Marjorie quickly, “the house isn’t very warm yet, and you will catch a cold. You’ve been sick, you know.”

  Bonnie’s eyes got larger and sought her little brother’s face in question.

  “Who is that?” she asked in a small, trembling voice, her lip quivering. “That’s not our Betty!”

  “Her’s ’nother Betty!” asserted Sunny, round-eyed. “Her has bretsuses. Bwed an’ jelly!”

  “You’d like some nice orange juice, wouldn’t you Bonnie?” asked Marjorie, springing up and flinging her pretty kimono about her.

  Bonnie slumped down on her pillow weakly and continued to stare. Marjorie went over and laid her hand on the little forehead that had been so hot in the night.

  “Why, it’s nice and cool, isn’t it?” she said delightedly. “Now, suppose we take your temperature, and then I’ll fix your orange juice.”

  Bonnie lay and looked at her solemnly.

  “Now, Sunny boy, back into your bed you go till somebody has time to dress you. I’ll give you a cracker to nibble on. How is that?”

  “Nice,” said Sunny, putting up a confiding hand to be led away. Bonnie lay solemnly with the thermometer in her mouth and stared at this new sister who was so like Betty and yet wasn’t Betty.