Head of the House

by Grace Livingston Hill

  One by one, as darkness dropped down, the children grew drowsy and were ordered off to bed.

  But Robin hung back as he was led away to bed and pointed to where the evening glow still lingered in the west. “Jennifer, is date vere heaven is? Out vere the pwetty is?”

  And when he was gone, the rest were left looking off into the dying red of the west, thinking of the father and mother who had left them alone in a world that wanted to separate them.

  When they were all settled at last in their bunks, Jennifer slipped softly back and sat down beside Jeremy. He moved to make room for her beside him and said in an anxious, questioning tone of wistfulness, “I guess there’s a God, don’t you think so, Jen? It seems as if there ought to be, with all that out there.”

  “Why, I guess so, Jerry,” said Jennifer. “I never really thought much about it before. Not many people in college believed that, of course, but I used to think sometimes they just said that because they thought it sounded smart. I always had a kind of feeling that Mother and Daddy really believed there was, so I didn’t pay much attention to what the others said.”

  “Dad and Mother always gave me that impression, too,” said Jerry. “Gee! I wish those days were back! I never thought our mother and father would go and leave us, did you, Jen?”

  “Well, they didn’t exactly go of themselves, you know,” said Jennifer thoughtfully. “They never would have chosen to go and leave us here.”

  “I know,” said the boy sadly. “I was thinking about that, too, and wondering, if they can look back, what it was they would be wishing they’d told us before they left. Because, of course, if there is any place after this, things must look different over there from what they do down here. I don’t believe this world will ever look quite the same to me after this.”

  “No,” said Jennifer, “it can’t! I know that! Why, suppose it was set somehow that you and I had to go out and meet death the way Daddy and Mother did, I wouldn’t feel ready, would you?”

  “I should say not!” said Jerry huskily.

  “Well, what we’ve got to do is get ready,” said Jennifer earnestly.

  “We could stay out of airplanes and dangerous things like that,” suggested Jerry.

  “Yes, but airplanes aren’t the only places people die. You couldn’t even cross a street lest a car would run over you, if you went on that plan. Sooner or later everybody has to die, and even if it weren’t a tragic death like airplanes, it would be tragic enough just the same.”

  “I know,” said Jerry drearily. “I guess there isn’t anything to do but grin and bear it, or forget it,” said the boy with a sigh. “I suppose the fellows at college would think I was a sis to talk like that, but honestly, I can’t see life, what it’s all about. Even if you do right as best you know how, what does that rate you? You might get rewarded for it in heaven, if there is a heaven, I don’t know.”

  “Of course there’s a heaven!” said Jennifer. “Everybody knows there is, only they haven’t the nerve to own they believe it. Kirsty used to tell me all about heaven when I was going to sleep nights. She used to say there was a lot of glory there. I always thought she meant the kind of golden glory that comes just before sunset. I thought of that tonight when Robin said that about the sunset being heaven.”

  “Well, but how did Kirsty know?” asked Jeremy. “Kirsty never went to college. She wasn’t educated, was she? How would she know?”

  “I don’t believe you have to be educated to know about heaven,” said Jennifer dreamily. “I think it’s something you know with your spirit. It’s something God tells you. Of course, Kirsty used to read the Bible a lot. Maybe she got her ideas out of that.”

  “Did you ever read it, Jen?”

  “Oh, I took a course in it the first year in college, but they didn’t make much sense out of it there. Just beautiful language. I remember they said there were some very fine literary passages in it. But I don’t really remember much about it. It was an easy course and came at a convenient hour, and Dad seemed to think it was a good thing to take, so I took it. I don’t believe I got much out of it. But we both went to Sunday school for a long time. Didn’t you learn any more than I did?”

  “I guess not,” said Jeremy, “just the story of Jonah and the whale and the feeding of five thousand on some little loaves and fishes. The way they taught there I decided it was all a lot of bologna. I asked a couple of questions and the teacher just floundered around vaguely, so after that I didn’t pay much attention. I don’t suppose the Bible amounts to much or somebody would know the answers.”

  “Well,” said Jennifer, “they have their answers, but not the way you mean. The people who taught Bible in our college thought it was clever writing but just a book, like a novel, you know. But I know Kirsty used to get a lot of comfort out of it. I believe she would know the answers, some of them anyway! She used to sit and read and read it with a lovely smile on her face. She had her Bible all worn ragged on the edges, she read it so much. I always meant to get her a new one sometime, but of course I forgot it. Maybe I’ll get her one yet. My! How I’d like to see Kirsty!”

  “Why don’t we hunt her up?” said Jeremy. “I’d like to see her myself. Though I suppose she’s pretty old by now.”

  “I can’t think of her as being old,” said Jennifer dreamily.

  “Well, do you know where she lives?”

  “It’s away up in New England somewhere. I can’t just remember the name of the place. If I thought real hard it might come back to me. It was some little dinky country place, and she didn’t even live in it. She had a tiny little house up on the side of a hill, about a mile from the village. A neighbor’s boy plowed her farm for her; she had a sick sister who had to come home and live with her. That’s why she left us. And that’s why they sent me up there to stay when mother was sick, because it was in the country and would be good for me and because Kirsty couldn’t leave her sister to come back to us.”

  “Was that boy that plowed the farm the one you said was such a gentleman?”

  “Yes,” said Jennifer. “I suppose you’ll laugh, but he was. Even if he plowed other people’s farms he was the most courteous boy I ever met.”

  “I wonder if you would think so now!”

  Jennifer’s eyes got their faraway look.

  “I wonder!” she said softly. “I’d like to meet him sometime and find out.”

  “Well, he’s probably big and fat now, with a red face and rough hands, and wears blue jeans or overalls most of the time.”

  “He might be big,” said Jennifer, “but he wouldn’t be fat. He wasn’t that build. He was tall and lean, with big eyes and nice eyelashes. And even when he had muddy boots on he walked as if they were expensive shoes. He never was gawky like some of the farm boys. And he had a kind voice. His horses loved him.”

  “Yes? Well, you were only a kid, remember. I used to think Danny O’Riley was handsome, and I wanted to be a policeman the worst way just because he was one.”

  “Yes, I remember,” said Jennifer. “But that’s not like this. Sometime I’d like you to meet that boy. You’d see what I mean. Why, Ted, he lived by his Bible. He used to carry his Testament with him everywhere he went. Even when he was working he had it in a little pocket in his shirt, and I’ve seen him sit down at the end of a furrow and stop to read for a minute or two before he went on. He seemed always to have something on his mind that he wanted to look up or make sure of.”

  “But I don’t understand. He wasn’t getting ready to be a minister or a missionary or anything, was he?”

  “Not that I know of. He never said anything about it. I asked him once what he was doing, and he just grinned and said, ‘I’m getting it into my mind, kid, so I can use it when I need it.’ I wanted to ask him more about it, but Kirsty called me in just then, and I didn’t have another chance. But he called after me as I went away. He said, ‘You know, it’s a pretty good book to have at your tongue’s end.’ I wondered about it several times, till I forgot about it.
Daddy came after me the next day and I never had another chance to talk to him, just said good-bye as we were leaving.”

  “Well,” said Jeremy, “maybe we can hunt him up someday and see what he’s turned out to be. You say he was only about thirteen or fourteen then? You can’t tell anything about what he is now. You’re liable to find a big disappointment if you ever see him. If he’s stayed the same after all these years he must be some man!”

  “I don’t think he’d change,” insisted Jennifer. “It seemed as if he had something that was firm like a foundation under him. Like a house built on rocks.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll find out someday,” said Jeremy. “I’d like to see him, anyway. Say, hadn’t we better turn in? Those young fiends are liable to wake us up at almost any hour in the morning, and remember, tomorrow’s another day. We don’t know what we’ve got to face tomorrow.”

  Chapter 11

  Quite early in the morning Petra Holbrook arose and girded on her armor for battle. Those Graeme children were going to learn a thing or two right away, and so was Blakefield.

  She tried the telephone first and fairly snorted when there was no reply. Of course, it was entirely thinkable that the children were not up yet. They never did have very good habits about early rising. At least she didn’t think they had. She didn’t really know anything about it, for she had never frequented the Graeme home at that hour in the morning. But it was scandalous that the servants were not around yet to answer the telephone.

  She stabbed the hairpins into her stringy gray hair, omitting her usual attentions to it; so it took occasion to slink and gave her sharp face a more sever expression than usual. She made short work of her breakfast, which usually she took as a ceremony, and then she started out, ordering the chauffeur to drive first to the Graeme place. If those servants were still in bed she would make it hot for them. She would dismiss every one of them, without references. It was an outrage for servants, trusted servants, to play a trick like that. Of course, they would excuse themselves by saying they were all tired out with extra work and company and all that. But that was absurd. There hadn’t been but one meal at which there had been relatives from out of town. Such servants were not worth their salt!

  But as she drove up to the house she was struck by the aloofness of its appearance. At first she didn’t analyze just what it was that gave it that appearance, but as she looked again she saw that the shades were all down, and on the east wing where there were inside blinds they were all closed. Now, what on earth did that mean? The house had its regular summer appearance of being closed while the family was all away at the mountains or seashore! And it wasn’t twenty-four hours since she was in there herself, with all the other relatives and the children running around out in the yard. Had some terrible catastrophe occurred? She tried to think what it could possibly be, her mind growing more and more upset. Then it occurred to her that of course Blakefield must be responsible for this. Petra Holbrook was one of those who always had to find somebody to blame for everything she didn’t like or understand.

  What in the world could Blakefield have done? Closed up the house and taken the children somewhere? Without saying a word to any of them? The idea! It certainly was time that they all took action! But first, perhaps she ought to go right to Blakefield’s house and find out if it was all true. When was it they said he would be back from New York? Oh, probably that was all a bluff, and he hadn’t gone to New York at all; he had taken the children off to some camp or resort, just to get them away so she and the rest couldn’t influence them. Well, it was awful to think a thing like this could happen! But they shouldn’t catch her napping. She would turn heaven and earth to get those poor little orphans away from that visionary man. What John Graeme could have been thinking of to leave them under Blakefield’s guardian ship was more than anyone could fathom!

  All the time she was being driven as fast as possible to Blakefield’s house, hoping perhaps to find the children there.

  But Blakefield’s housekeeper knew nothing about them. She hadn’t seen the Graeme young people at all. No, Mr. Graeme never told her of his plans, except to say when he would be back for meals. Yes, he had gone to New York. He left yesterday noon, telephoned her from the station that he would not be home to lunch. He had an appointment with a man in New York. He got his lunch on the train. He said he would likely be home for dinner that night, unless he telephoned her, and no message had come as yet, so he would be coming, of course. Yes, she would tell him as soon as he got in that Mrs. Holbrook wanted him to call her up at once.

  Petra Holbrook, baffled again, hurried to Majesta’s house. She had it in mind to report the whole matter to the police, but she wanted to make sure that Majesta would approve. Of course, reporting a thing to the police was going a little far. Perhaps she had better talk it over with Pemberton, though Pemberton Best was such a temperate man. But, of course, men knew a good deal about law and things, and it wouldn’t do any harm to hear what Pemberton might suggest, and then she could do as she pleased afterward. But Pemberton was always so afraid someone was going to overstep some right!

  But before she turned into the street where Pemberton and Majesta lived she saw Jim Delaney driving along a cross street. He bowed to her and she waved frantically, so he stopped and drew up near where she had ordered her car to stop.

  “I’m so glad you came along, Jim,” she said, though she didn’t usually care much for Jim Delaney. “I’m so excited and nervous I’m nearly out of my mind!” she stated with bated breath. “Jim, do you know what has become of the Graeme children?”

  Jim looked at her astonished.

  “Become of them?” he echoed with lifted brows. “Why no, I don’t. What could have become of them? What do you mean, Petra?”

  “Why, they’re gone, Jim! Absolutely gone! I called up last evening at a very reasonable hour, soon after dinner, and nobody answered! Not even a servant! What do you think of that? Those servants that Miriam boasted so about and thought she had so well trained! Not a one on the job in the early evening! All evening at intervals I tried. I even telephoned the Willises to know if any of them had gone over there. Peter, you know, is fond of Jennifer. I thought he might have coaxed them over for the evening. But they were not there, and I’ve been fairly frantic! I telephoned everywhere I could think of, but no trace of anybody, and I finally settled down to think they might have gone to bed. But this morning I phoned again, and still the telephone didn’t answer. So I drove right over there. And what do you think? I found the house closed! Yes, actually! The curtains drawn and even the inside blinds shut! I tried every door, and the house was as much closed up as ever it is in the summer when the family is all away at the shore. Now, isn’t that the limit? Can you imagine what’s happened?”

  “Why no,” said Jim Delaney, “but if I were you I wouldn’t get excited. Everything’s likely all right. Probably Blake knows all about it. It’s his business after all, not ours.”

  “Oh his business!” sniffed Aunt Petra. “Well, if it is, he isn’t attending to it very well. And he couldn’t have known all about it, because I understand he’s gone to New York. At least they say he has! But dear knows, that may all be a bluff. Perhaps he took the children with him.”

  “Oh, no!” said Jim. “I saw him just before he left, and he didn’t have anybody with him at all. What would he do with a lot of children in New York?”

  “Well, that’s what I thought. But perhaps he didn’t go to New York at all. Perhaps he’s just taken them all off somewhere to annoy the rest of us. He has no more sense than a pussycat about looking after children.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Jim, with a grin. “I think you’ll find he has rather good sense. You know John Graeme evidently thought so or he wouldn’t have left the children under his guardianship. If I were you I wouldn’t worry.”

  “Well, I certainly shall worry,” said Petra Holbrook firmly. “I’m not one to sit and fold my hands and let my dear niece’s children go to
destruction, even if you are! I shall go straight to the police and have this broadcasted! I intend to find those children before night, or I’ll have the law on Blakefield. He is no fit guardian for them, or their money either.”

  “Well, that’s not for you to say, Petra,” said Jim. “If I were you I wouldn’t get his matter in the public eye right away. You’ll be sorry if you do. You’ll have a big laugh on you when the children turn up in some perfectly reasonable place. You would make yourself appear to be a fool, to say nothing of letting the world know that there is dissension in the family. Just simmer down, Petra. Go see some of your friends, or get up a bridge game, or take lunch at your club, and forget it for a little while. Wait till Blake gets home and see what he says. After all, if anything is to be reported to the police Blake is the one to do it. It’s really none of our business, you know.”

  “And you think that Blake has a right to spirit those children away out of our sight without telling us a thing about it?”

  “Blake didn’t spirit them away. I’m sure of that,” said Jim Delaney grinning. “He didn’t have time. He just caught his train. But I’m mighty certain if they are away somewhere he’ll know something about it, so don’t you fret.”

  “Look here, Jim Delaney, don’t tell me Blakefield is so smart as all that. If he didn’t spirit them away, it’s some prank of the impish Jennifer, and she ought to be curbed. It would serve her right to get her pranks broadcasted all over the country and shame her. She’s capable of doing almost anything, that girl is, and getting us all disgraced. I don’t understand why Miriam and John had such wild children. They were well brought up themselves.”