Rebecca's Promise

by Frances R. Sterrett

  CHAPTER XII

  Rebecca Mary and Joan sat beside Peter while he ate his strawberries andhis eggs and toast and bacon. Rebecca Mary poured two cups of coffee forhim in a demure little way which Peter found quite enchanting, and hiseyes told her so as they followed her to the other side of the table.But there was nothing sentimental to Joan in the fact that Rebecca Maryhad poured Peter two cups of coffee. She found it only interesting, andher eyes grew big when Peter broke a third egg.

  "Gentlemen hold a lot more than ladies, don't they?" she asked withfrank interest. "Granny only ate berries and toast and drank half a cupof coffee, and you, dear Miss Wyman, had an egg with your toast andcoffee and so did I, but Mr. Simmons already has eaten----"

  "Spare me the list of my victories," begged Peter. "And bear in mind,Friend Joan, that men are hard working creatures who have to be wellstoked to do their job."

  "But ladies work, too." Joan objected to such sex discrimination. "I'veseen them, haven't I, Miss Wyman?"

  "You have unless you kept your eyes shut, which is what so many of ourbusy gentlemen do," twinkled Rebecca Mary. "If you are quite sure youwon't have another cup of coffee, Mr. Simmons, I'll run up and see ifGranny is awake and tell her the surprise that is waiting for her."

  But Granny was still asleep under the rose strewn coverlet, and RebeccaMary slipped out as quietly as she had slipped in.

  Peter had finished his breakfast when she returned to the dining room,and they all walked out to the garden where he smoked a cigarette.

  "But you know Granny can't stay here without sending word tograndfather," insisted Peter.

  "Why can't she?"

  "Why can't she?" Peter stared as if Rebecca Mary should have knownbetter than to waste words on such a question. "My grandfather adores mygrandmother, Miss Wyman, although he does tease her to death, and he'llworry his old gray head off if he doesn't know where she is."

  "Mrs. Simmons left a message with Pierson."

  "That she had gone to Seven Pines. When grandfather calls up SevenPines Granny won't be there. No, she must send him a message at once."

  "You can't send any messages from Riverside. Major Martingale told us somost emphatically."

  "I rather guess we could get a word to old Peter Simmons if we wentabout it in the right way." Young Peter seemed much amused to hear thatshe imagined that they couldn't. "Don't you know----" he began, and thenhe laughed and stopped short.

  Rebecca Mary knew, of course, that he had meant to tell her what animportant man his grandfather was, and she liked him the better forbreaking his sentence off in the middle and not boasting. He chuckled tohimself several times as he walked with Rebecca Mary through the gardenwhich was such a riot of gorgeous color, around the flower-borderedpool, by the old lichen-studded sun dial and through the green wreathedpergola to the river bank, where Peter forgot his grandparents as heremembered his history and told Rebecca Mary the legend the Indians hadwritten on the big rock on the other side. It was a gruesome tale, andJoan shook in her small shoes. Rebecca Mary would have shivered in herlarger oxfords if she had not remembered that the gruesomeness was sometwo hundred years old. They had a most delightful morning and strolledback when they heard the clang of a big bell, a bell which Peter toldJoan talked of absolutely nothing but food.

  "The mechanics are quartered in the farmhouse," he explained.

  There was one word in his sentence which reminded Rebecca Mary that shewas a member of Granny's detective bureau, and she looked up quickly.

  "Just what is this experiment which is going to mean so much to theworld?" she asked with serpent guile. The minute she had seen youngPeter Simmons she knew that Major Martingale's story was true, but sheshould like to know more of his experiment. She had no doubt Peter wouldtell her more.

  Peter squirmed uneasily. He wanted to tell her what he knew but a man'stongue is sometimes tied.

  "I'm sorry," he said as Wallie Marshall had said earlier in the morning."But we aren't allowed to breathe a word. We're under oath, you know.Can't run the risk of any leak."

  "You don't trust me?" For just a second Rebecca Mary threatened to beinjured or indignant. Peter held his breath. "Never mind!" She decidedto smile, and Peter drew a sigh of relief. "It must have something to dowith aeroplanes----"

  "I'm not here as an aviator," Peter told her quickly, and then seemedsorry that he had spoken.

  "You're not?" But as Peter refused to say in what capacity he was atRiverside she went on rather scornfully; "I suppose it has nothing to dowith chemistry or electricity, either, although Mr. Marshall told me hewas one kind of an engineer and Mr. Barton was the other."

  "The dickens he did!" Peter grinned at her powers of deduction.

  "I dare say I'll know all about it in time." Rebecca Mary tossed herhead with a fair show of indifference. "That is if there is anything toknow. Come, Joan, I'm sure Granny is awake now."

  "I say, you're not angry with me?" Peter did not see why he should beintrusted with secrets which would make Rebecca Mary angry with him. Hecaught her hand.

  She looked down at the five fingers which rested on Peter's broad palmand then up at his face, and to his delight there was no anger in hereyes, nothing but the most innocent surprise.

  "Why should I be angry?" And when he didn't tell her she went onlightly: "Of course, I should want to know anything I shouldn't know,any girl would, and equally, of course, you must keep your oath,but----" She shrugged her shoulders and took her fingers away fromPeter.

  "I see," muttered Peter ruefully as he followed her. But he didn't seeat all.

  They found Granny awake, and on the terrace. She was surprised to seePeter for she had not believed a word of Rebecca Mary's dream, and sheasked him at once if Major Martingale's story were true or should sheand Rebecca Mary run away and warn Joshua Cabot that queer things weretaking place at Riverside? There was no beating about the bush withGranny. She did not hesitate a second, and she looked very crestfallenwhen Peter told her that Major Martingale had told nothing but thetruth.

  "You'd never believe how important the experiment is nor how muchGermany wants it," he said. "Old Martingale has to be suspicious andcareful. He can't trust any one who isn't on oath. You were lucky youweren't shot at sunrise. No, you can't do a thing but stay until theMajor lets you go. I'm glad you're here. It will make it pleasanter forme," he explained with a grin. "Although I'll confess that I didn'trealize that things were on quite such a military footing. I didn'tbring you here to be locked up but because I thought it was safer thanto leave you on the high road. I didn't know you would have to stay," heinsisted. "Better send a message to grandfather," he told hisgrandmother.

  She shook her head. "I can't. I'm not allowed to send messages to anyone."

  "I'm sure I can get old Martingale to let you write a letter." There wasa funny twinkle in Peter's eyes as he told what he could do.

  But Granny just shook her head again. "It won't do your grandfather anyharm to worry about me for a while. He has been too sure of me, and I'vebeen too good-natured. You know yourself, Peter, that we never wouldhave left Waloo if we hadn't gone before he came home. I made allowancesfor him during the war, but that is over. No, Peter, I'm just full ofthings it wouldn't be safe to say to him now. I want a peaceful goldenwedding, so I'll just stay where Fate has put me. If he were to comehere and ask me what I want for a golden wedding present I'm afraid Ishould lose my temper. Why, we've talked of it hundreds of times and heshould know. Perhaps it is a little thing, Peter, but you're old enoughto know that life is made up largely of little things and they must beright. The big things come so seldom that we can overlook the wrong inthem."

  "Grandfather's an awfully busy man just now," Peter began, but she wouldnot let him finish.

  "That's what I've been told for fifty years, and I've overlooked a lotbecause he was so busy and so important. But I rather think I'll beimportant for a while now. No, Peter Simmons, and if you say anything toMajor Martingale I shall be cross. I don't know why I feel this
way, Inever did before, but I do feel that I can't be teased now. There is nouse arguing with me. You might as well save your breath."

  "It's all wrong," Peter grumbled to Rebecca Mary the minute they werealone. "Grandfather shouldn't have this private worry when he has somuch public responsibility. Women have no sense of proportion."

  "How can they have any when men have so much?" Rebecca Mary spoke as ifthere was just so much sense of proportion in the world and the men hadtaken it all. She showed how sarcastic she could be in a few words. "Idon't blame Granny a bit, but I'll give you a little advice. If youleave her alone she will agree with you a lot sooner than if you arguewith her. That's the way I manage the children and it succeeds ninetimes out of ten."

  "I'll bet it does!" Peter was all admiration as he heard her method."All right, I'll stop badgering the old dear--for a while anyway. Comeand have a try at tennis. I'll wager you play a good game."

  Rebecca Mary did not play a good game,--how could she when she had hadso little practice?--but she obediently followed Peter to the court andlet him knock balls toward her. She made up in effort what she lacked inskill.

  She jumped up to hit a ball, which flew high above her head and struckit in such a way that it bounded from the court and went off at atangent to strike the shoulder of a man who was hurrying to the house.He stopped and swung around to throw the ball back to the court.

  "Oh!" Joan gave a shriek. "It's my father! It's my own father!" And shedashed to him as fast as her two feet would take her. He met her halfway and caught her in his arms.

  Rebecca Mary and Peter drifted toward each other.

  "I thought her father was dead!" exclaimed Peter.

  "Oh, no!" Rebecca Mary was dying to turn and look at Count Ernach deBefort but she was withheld by a fine delicacy from staring at Joan'sfather.

  Joan brought him across the court at once, clinging to his hand.

  "I've found him!" She was tremulously triumphant. "I'm the first to findwhat we came for. This is my own father, dear Miss Wyman."

  Her own father took the hand which Miss Wyman offered him and clasped itwarmly. Now that she could see more than his back, Rebecca Mary feltrather than knew that Joan had not drawn him from her imagination. Hewas very different from the father in the photograph, older and moreserious. There was a tired, worn look in the face which showed whereJoan had found her black eyes and broad forehead and he had anabsent-minded, detached air which explained how he had been able toleave his little daughter alone in Waloo with a housekeeper. He drew hisheels together as Rebecca Mary had seen German officers draw their heelstogether in the movies, and Rebecca Mary caught her breath for sheremembered the Prussian uniform he had worn in his photograph, theGerman eagle on his breast, and she remembered also that MajorMartingale had said no Germans were to be at Riverside.

  "I cannot understand," he said, bewildered and surprised as he tried tofollow Joan's incoherent explanation, and although his English was quitecorrect there was a foreign intonation which Rebecca Mary foundfascinating for it told her that Joan might be right and her fathermight really be Count Ernach de Befort. Counts of any nationality were anovelty to Rebecca Mary. She had not met one of them in the third gradeof the Lincoln school.

  She assisted Joan to explain that Mrs. Muldoon had been called away bythe illness of her son and had left Joan with her teacher.

  "She loaned me, daddy," emphasized Joan. "I'm so glad she did."

  But Joan's father frowned as if he were not glad that his only daughterhad been loaned to any one, and the explanation went on to state howthey had come to Riverside.

  "And we're prisoners!" exclaimed Joan. "Are you a prisoner, too, daddy?"

  "The same kind of a prisoner that you are. Isn't that right, Mr.Befort?" laughed Peter.

  Rebecca Mary breathed easier. If Peter laughed that way it must be allright for Frederick Befort to be at Riverside.

  Frederick Befort smiled as if he thought it would be very pleasant tohave his daughter and her teacher fellow prisoners at Riverside beforehe said that he was one of the men working on the great experiment.

  "I am surprised at Mrs. Muldoon," he went on with a frown. "She has beenso honest and faithful that I was sure I could trust her to take care ofJoan until I returned. My work here I could not leave to another. Youknow----" He looked at Peter.

  Peter nodded. "Sure, I know." And he put his hand on the older man'sshoulder. Yes, decided Rebecca Mary, it must be all right. "Funny Inever connected you with the kid, for Befort isn't a common name. Iguess I was so interested in your job I never thought of you as afather."

  "I have," confessed Rebecca Mary impulsively. "I've thought of you alot. Because we knew so little," she hastened to explain when FrederickBefort looked surprised to hear that he had occupied so many of RebeccaMary's thoughts. "Granny Simmons and I have searched the map of Germanyfor Echternach, the place Joan said you came from, but we couldn't findit anywhere. We began to think that Joan had made up the name."

  "You searched all Germany?" asked Frederick Befort, putting his fingersover Joan's lips as she tried to tell them that she hadn't made up thename of Echternach. "No wonder you could not find it. It is a smallplace, Miss Wyman, but old, very old. One of your English saints,Willibrod, came there in the seventh century as a missionary. You shouldhave looked down in the southern part of Germany"--Rebecca Mary wasconscious of a feeling of disappointment. So Granny was right and he wasa German--"to the very edge of Rhenish Prussia until you found the riverSure, and on the other side of that river you would have discoveredEchternach. But it is not in Prussia, it is in the Grand Duchy ofLuxembourg." He drew himself up proudly as he told her where Echternachwas.

  "Oh?" Rebecca Mary could not say another word to save her soul. Shecould only look at him with the pinkest of cheeks. "I was so afraid thatyou were a German!" she told him honestly.

  The laughter left his lips and a grave light took the place of the smilein his eyes.

  "No, Echternach is not in Germany. It is not strange that you thought itwas, Miss Wyman. And if you traveled in our duchy you often would bepuzzled to know whether you were in Germany or in France. German isspoken almost as much as French and we used German money. But a Germanregiment was garrisoned in Luxembourg for fifty years and we have notforgotten. Germany tried to swallow us as she tried to swallow so manyprincipalities, but Luxembourg would not be swallowed. Can you repeatfor Miss Wyman our national hymn, _ma petite_?" he said to Joan. "Thewords the Cathedral bells ring out every other hour for fear we shallforget them. Now then." His voice prompted Joan's as they repeated theLuxembourg anthem:

  "_Mir welle jo ke Preise gin; Mir welle bleime wat mor sin!_"

  "That means we shall never become Prussians. We shall remain what weare," he translated, and his eyes flashed.

  Rebecca Mary's eyes were larger than any saucer as she gazed at him. Shehad known Russians and Italians and Bohemians and Roumanians andSerbians, she had taught children of almost every nationality, but shehad never met a Luxembourger before, and she tried to remember somethingof the grand duchy. But she couldn't remember a thing.

  "Joan should have told you." Frederick Befort did not understand why sheshould look so pleased. "You have been away from your native countrymany months, _mignonne_, but you have not forgotten which side of theSure was your home?"

  "No," wriggled Joan. "But no one knows of Luxembourg and the grandduchess, and every one knows of Germany and the old kaiser."

  "Alas, that it is so!" Frederick Befort shook his head sadly before helooked at Rebecca Mary and said, oh, so feelingly: "I cannot understandhow Mrs. Muldoon could desert my little girl, but I am grateful to thegood God that he sent her such a friend in you. I cannot thank you foryour heavenly kindness to my little daughter." And before Rebecca Maryrealized what he was doing he had taken her hand and kissed it.

  If it had thrilled Rebecca Mary to have her fingers kissed by fat Mrs.Klavachek you may imagine how shaken inwardly she was to have themkissed by Count Ernach de Befort.r />
  "It wasn't anything," she stammered, wishing for goodness' sake that shecould think of something clever to say.

  "It was everything!" he insisted, gazing into her eyes.

  "Aren't you glad I found my daddy, Miss Wyman!" Joan was jumping up anddown as she clung to her father's hand. "But I'm sorry you haven'tfound any payment for your memory insurance," she went on regretfully.

  "Oh, but I have!" Rebecca Mary forgot to be shy because a Luxembourgcount had kissed her fingers, and she laughed. "I've found a tremendouspayment!"