CHAPTER XXIV
LIKE DUCKS TO WATER
They took to it like ducks take to water. Not, of course, that theydidn't kick about making their own beds and having military disciplinegenerally. They complained a lot, but when after three days went by withthe railroad running as much on schedule as it ever does, they were allstill there, and Mr. Jennings had limped out and spent a half-hour atthe wood-pile with his gouty foot on a cushion, I saw it was a success.
I ought to have been glad. I was, although when Mrs. Dicky found theywere all staying, and that she might have to live in the shelter-housethe rest of the winter, there was an awful scene. I was glad, too, everytime I could see Mr. Thoburn's gloomy face, or hear the things he saidwhen his name went up for the military walk.
(Oh yes, we had a blackboard in the hall, and every morning each guestlooked to see if it was wood-pile day or military-walk day. At first,instead of wood-pile, it was walk-clearing day, but they soon had thesnow off all the paths.)
As I say, I was glad. It looked as if the new idea was a success,although as Doctor Barnes said, nobody could really tell until newpeople began to come. That was the real test. They had turned the bathsinto a gymnasium and they had beginners' classes and advanced classes,and a prize offered on the blackboard of a cigar for the man who madethe most muscular improvement in a week. The bishop won it the firstweek, being the only one who could lie on his back and raise himself toa sitting position without helping himself with his hands. As Mrs. Moodysaid, it would be easy enough if somebody only sat on one's feet to holdthem down.
But I must say I never got over the shock of seeing the spring-housedrifted with snow, all the windows wide open, the spring frozen hard,and people sitting there during the rest hour, in furs and steamer rugs,trying to play cards with mittens on--their hands, not the cards, ofcourse--and not wrangling. I was lonesome for it!
I hadn't much to do, except from two to four to be at the spring-house,and to count for the deep-breathing exercise. Oh, yes, we had that, too!I rang a bell every half-hour and everybody got up, and I counted slowly"one" and they breathed in through their noses, and "two" and theyexhaled quickly through their mouths. I guess most of them used more oftheir lungs than they ever knew they had.
Well, everybody looked better and felt better, although they wouldn'tall acknowledge it. Miss Cobb suffered most, not having the fire logto curl her hair with. But as she said herself, between gymnasium andmilitary walks, and the silence hour, and eating, which took a longtime, everybody being hungry--and going to bed at nine, she didn't seehow she could have worried with it, anyhow. The fat ones, of course,objected to an apple and a cup of hot water for breakfast, but exceptMr. Thoburn, they all realized it was for the best. He wasn't there forhis health, he said, having never had a sick day in his life, but whenhe saw it was apple and hot water or leave, he did like Adam--he tookthe apple.
The strange thing of all was the way they began to look up to Mr.Pierce. He was very strict; if he made a rule, it was obey or leave.(As they knew after Mr. Moody refused to take the military walk, and waspresented with his bill and a railroad schedule within an hour. He hadto take the military walk with Doctor Barnes that afternoon alone.) Theyhad to respect a man who could do all the things in the gymnasium thatthey couldn't, and come in from a ten or fifteen-mile tramp through thesnow and take a cold plunge and a swim to rest himself.
It was on Monday that we really got things started, and on Mondayafternoon Miss Summers came out to the shelter-house in a towering rage.
"Where's Mr. Pierce?" she demanded.
"I guess you can see he isn't here," I said.
"Just wait until I see him!" she announced. "Do you know that I am downon the blackboard for the military walk to-day?
"Why not?"
She turned and glared at me. "Why not?" she repeated. "Why, the audacityof the wretch! He brings me out into the country in winter to play inhis atrocious play, strands me, and then tells me to walk twenty miles aday and smile over it!" She came over to me and shook my arm. "Not onlythat," she said, "but he has cut out my cigarettes and put Arabella ondog biscuit--Arabella, who can hardly eat a chicken wing."
"Well, there's something to be thankful for," I said. "He didn't put youon dog biscuit."
She laughed then, with one of her quick changes of humor.
"The worst of it is," she said, in a confidential whisper, "I'll do it.I feel it. I guess if the truth were known I'm some older than he is,but--I'm afraid of him, Minnie. Little Judy is ready to crawl around andspeak for a cracker or a kind word. Oh, I'm not in love with him, buthe's got the courage to say what he means and do what he says."
She went to the door and looked back smiling.
"I'm off for the wood-pile," she called back. "And I've promised to choptwo inches off my heels."
As I say, they took to it like ducks to water--except two of them, vonInwald and Thoburn. Mr. von Inwald stayed on, I hardly know why, but Iguess it was because Mr. Jennings still hadn't done anything final aboutsettlements, and with the newspapers marrying him every day it wasn'tvery comfortable. Next to him, Mr. Thoburn was the unhappiest mortal Ihave ever seen. He wouldn't leave, and with Doctor Barnes carryingout his threat to take six inches off his waist, he stopped measuringwindow-frames with a tape line and took to measuring himself.
I came across him on Wednesday--the third day--straggling home from themilitary walk. He and Mr. von Inwald limped across the tennis-court andcollapsed on the steps of the spring-house while the others went on tothe sanatorium. I had been brushing the porch, and I leaned on my broomand looked at them.
"You're both looking a lot better," I said. "Not so--well, not sobeer-y. How do you like it by this time?"
"Fine!" answered Mr. Thoburn. "Wouldn't stay if I didn't like it."
"Wouldn't you?"
"But I'll tell you this, Minnie," he said, changing his position witha groan to look up at me, "somebody ought to warn that young man. Humannature can stand a lot but it can't stand everything. He's overdoingit!"
"They like it," I said.
"They think they do," he retorted. "Mark my words, Minnie, if he addsanother mile to the walk to-morrow there will be a mutiny. Kingdoms maybe lost by an extra blister on a heel."
Mr. von Inwald had been sitting with his feet straight out, scowling,but now he turned and looked at me coolly.
"All that keeps me here," he said, "is Minnie's lovely hair. It takes mementally back home, Minnie, to a lovely lady--may I have a bit of it tokeep by me?"
"You may not," I retorted angrily.
"Oh! The lovely lady--but never mind that. For the sake of my love foryou, Minnie, find me a cigarette, like a good girl! I am desolate."
"There's no tobacco on the place," I said firmly, and went on with mysweeping.
"When I was a boy," Mr. Thoburn remarked, looking out thoughtfullyover the snow, "we made a sort of cigarette out of corn-silk. You don'thappen to have any corn-silk about, do you, Minnie?"
"No," I said shortly. "If you take my advice, Mr. Thoburn, you'll goback to town. You can get all the tobacco you want there--and you'rewasting your time here." I leaned on my broom and looked down at him,but he was stretching out his foot and painfully working his ankle upand down.
"Am I?" he asked, looking at his foot. "Well, don't count on it toomuch, Minnie. You always inspire me, and sitting here I've just thoughtof something."
He got up and hobbled off the porch, followed by Mr. von Inwald. Isaw him say something to Mr. von Inwald, who threw back his head andlaughed. Then I saw them stop and shake hands and go on again in deepconversation. I felt uneasy.
Doctor Barnes came out that afternoon and watched me while I closedthe windows. He had a package in his hand. He sat on the railing of thespring and looked at me.
"You're not warmly enough dressed for this kind of thing," he remarked."Where's that gray rabbits' fur, or whatever it is?"
"If you mean my chinchillas," I said, "they're in their box. Chinchillasare as delic
ate as babies and not near so plentiful. I'm warm enough."
"You look it." He reached over and caught one of my hands. "Look atthat! Blue nails! It's about four degrees above zero here, and whilethe rest are wrapped in furs and steamer rugs, with hotwater bottles attheir feet, you've got on a shawl. I'll bet you two dollars you haven'tgot on any--er--winter flannels."
"I never bet," I retorted, and went on folding up the steamer rugs.
"I'd like to help," he said, "but you're so darned capable, MissMinnie--"
"You might see if you can get the slot-machine empty," I said. "It'sfull of water. It wouldn't work and Mr. Moody thought it was frozen.He's been carrying out boiling water all afternoon. If it stays in thereand freezes the thing will explode."
He wasn't listening. He'd been fussing with his package and now heopened it and handed it to me, in the paper.
"It's a sweater," he said, not looking at me. "I bought it for myselfand it was too small-- Confound it, Minnie, I wish I could lie! I boughtthem for you! There's the whole business--sweater, cap, leggings andmittens. Go on! Throw them at me!"
But I didn't. I looked at them, all white and soft, and it came overme suddenly how kind people had been lately, and how much I'd beengetting--the old doctor's waistcoat buttons and Miss Pat's furs, and nowthis! I just buried my face in them and cried.
Doctor Barnes stood by and said nothing. Some men wouldn't haveunderstood, but he did. After a minute or so he came over and pulled thesweater out from the bundle.
"I'm glad you like 'em," he said, "but as I bought them at Hubbard's, inFinleyville, and as the old liar guaranteed they wouldn't shrink, we'dbetter not cry on 'em."
Well, I put them on and I was warmer and happier than I had been forsome time. But that night when I went out to the shelter-house withthe supper basket I found both the honeymooners in a wild state ofexcitement. They said that about five o'clock Thoburn had gone out tothe shelter-house and walked all around it. Finally he had stopped atone of the windows of the other room, had worked at it with his penknifeand got it open, and crawled through. They sat paralyzed with fright,and heard him moving around the other room, and he even tried theirdoor. But it had been locked. They hadn't the slightest idea what he wasdoing, but after perhaps ten minutes he went away, going out the doorthis time and taking the key with him.
Mr. Dick had gone in when he was safely gone, but he could see nothingunusual, except that the door of the cupboard in the corner was standingopen and there was a brand-new, folding, foot rule in it.
That day the bar was closed for good, and there was a good bit offussing. To add to the trouble, that evening at dinner the pastrieswere cut off, and at eight o'clock a delegation headed by Senator Biggsvisited Mr. Pierce in the office and demanded pastry put back on themenu and the stewed fruit taken off. But Mr. Pierce was firm and theycame out pretty well subdued. It was that night, I think, that candleswere put in the bedrooms, and all the electric lights were turned off atnine-thirty.
At ten o'clock I took my candle and went to Mr. Pierce's sitting-roomdoor. I didn't think they'd stand much more and I wanted to tell him so.Nobody answered and I opened the door. He was asleep, face down on thehearth-rug in front of the fire. His candle was lighted on the floorbeside him and near it lay a newspaper cutting crumpled in a ball.I picked it up. It was a list of the bridal party for Miss Patty'swedding.
I dropped it where I found it and went out and knocked again loudly. Hewakened after a minute and came to the door with the candle in his hand.
"Oh, it's you, Minnie. Come in!"
I went in and put my candle on the table.
"I've got to talk to you," I said. "I don't mind admitting things havebeen going pretty well, but--they won't stand for the candles. You markmy words."
"If they'll stand for the bar being closed, why not the candles?" hedemanded.
"Well," I said, "they can't have electric light sent up in boxes andlabeled 'books,' but they can get liquor that way."
He whistled, and then he laughed.
"Then we'll not have any books," he said. "I guess they can manage. 'Myonly books were woman's looks--'" and then he saw the ball of paper onthe floor and his expression changed. He walked over and picked it up,smoothing it out on the palm of his hand.
After a minute he looked up at me.
"I haven't been to the shelter-house to-day. They are all right?"
"They're nervous. With everybody walking these days they daren't venturea nose out of doors."
He was still holding the clipping.
"And--Miss Jennings!" he said. "She--I think she looks better."
"Her father's in a better humor for one thing--says Abraham Lincolnsplit logs, and that it beats massage."
I had been standing in the doorway, but he took me by the arm and drewme into the room.
"I wish you'd sit down for about ten minutes, Minnie," he said. "I guessevery fellow has a time when he's got to tell his troubles to some goodwoman--not but that you know mine already. You're as shrewd as you arekind."
I sat down on the edge of a chair. For all I had had so much to do withthe sanatorium, I never forgot that I was only the spring-house girl. Hethrew himself back in his easy chair, with the candle behind him on thetable and his arms above his head.
"It's like this, Minnie," he said. "Mr. Jennings likes the new order ofthings and--he's going to stay."
I nodded.
"And I like it here. I want to stay. It's the one thing I've found thatI think I can do. It isn't what I've dreamed of, but it's worth while.To anchor the derelicts of humanity in a sort of repair dock here, andscrape the barnacles off their dispositions, and send them out shipshapeagain, surely that's something. And I can do it."
I nodded again.
"But if the Jenningses stay--" he looked at me. "Minnie, in heaven'sname, what am I going to do if SHE stays?"
"I don't know, Mr. Pierce," I said. "I couldn't sleep last night forthinking about it."
He smoothed out the paper and looked at it again, but I think hescarcely saw it.
"The situation is humorous," he said, "only my sense of humor seemsto have died. She doesn't know I exist, except to invent new andtroublesome regulations for her annoyance. She is very sweet when shemeets me, but only because I am helping her to have her own way. AndI--my God, Minnie, I sit in the office and listen for her step outside!"
He moved a little and held out the paper in the candle-light.
"'It will please Americans to know,'" he read, "'that with the exceptionof the Venetian lace robe sent by the bridegroom's mother, all of MissPatricia Jennings' elaborate trousseau is being made in America.
"'Prince Oskar and his suite, according to present arrangements, willsail from Naples early in March, and the wedding date, although not yetdefinitely fixed, will probably be the first week in April. The weddingparty will include--'"
He stopped there, and looked at me, trying to smile.
"I knew it all before," he said, "but there's something inevitable aboutprint. I guess I hadn't realized it."
He had the same look of wretchedness he'd had the first night I sawhim--a hungry look--and I couldn't help it; I went over to him andpatted him on the head like a little boy. I was only the spring-housegirl, but I was older than he was, and he needed somebody to comforthim.
"I can't think of anything to say that will help any," I said, "unlessit's what you wrote yourself on the blackboard down in the hall, 'Keepbusy and you'll keep happy.'"
He reached up for my hand, and rough and red as it was--having been inthe spring for so many years--he kissed it.
"Good for you, Minnie!" he said. "You're rational, and for a day or soI haven't been. That's right, KEEP BUSY. I'll do it." He got up and puthis hands on my shoulders. "Good old pal, when you see me going aroundas if all the devils of hell were tormenting me, just come up and saythat to me, will you?"
I promised, and he opened the door, candle in hand, and smiling.
"I'm a thousand per cent. better already,
" he said. "I just needed totell somebody, I think. I dare say I've made a lot more fuss than itreally deserves."
At the far end of the hall, a girl came out of one room, and carryinga candle, went across to another. It was Miss Patty, going to bid herfather good night. When I left, he was still staring down the hall afterher, his candle dripping wax on the floor, and his face white. I guesshe hadn't overstated his case.
Where There's a Will Page 24
