CHAPTER XXV
KEITH TO THE RESCUE
John McGuire had not been home twenty-four hours before it was knownthat he "took it powerful hard."
To Keith Susan told what she had learned.
"They say he utterly refuses to see any one outside the family; an'that he'd rather not see even his own folks--that he's always askin''em to let him alone."
"Is he ill or wounded otherwise?" asked Keith.
"No, he ain't hurt outwardly or infernally, except his eyes, an' hesays that's the worst of it, one woman told me. He's as sound as anut, an' good for a hundred years yet. If he'd only been smashed upgood an' solid, so's he'd have some hope of dyin' pretty quick, hewouldn't mind it, he says. But to live along like this--!--oh, he's inan awful state of mind, everybody says."
"I can--imagine it," sighed Keith. And by the way he turned away Susanknew that he did not care to talk any more.
An hour later Mrs. McGuire hurried into Susan's kitchen. Mrs. McGuirewas looking thin and worn these days. From her half-buttoned shoes toher half-combed hair she was showing the results of strain andanxiety. With a long sigh she dropped into one of the kitchen chairs.
"Well, Mis' McGuire, if you ain't the stranger!" Susan greeted hercordially.
"Yes, I know," sighed Mrs. McGuire. "But, you see, I can't leave--him."As she spoke she looked anxiously through the window toward herown door. "Mr. McGuire's with him, now, so I got away."
"But there's Bess an' Harry," began Susan,
"We don't leave him with the children, ever," interposed Mrs. McGuire,with another hurried glance through the window. "We--don't dare to.You see, once we found--we found him with his father's old pistol. Oh,Susan, it--it was awful!"
"Yes, it--must have been." Susan, after one swift glance into hervisitor's face, had turned her back suddenly. She was busy now withthe dampers of her kitchen stove.
"Of course we took it right away," went on Mrs. McGuire, "an' put itwhere he'll never get it again. But we're always afraid there'll besomethin' somewhere that he WILL get hold of. You see, he's SOdespondent--in such a terrible state!"
"Yes, I know," nodded Susan. Susan had abandoned her dampers, and hadturned right about face again. "If only he'd see folks now."
"Yes, an' that's what I came over to talk to you about," cried Mrs.McGuire eagerly. "We haven't been able to get him to see anybody--notanybody. But I've been wonderin' if he wouldn't see Keith, if we couldwork it right. You see he says he just won't be stared at; an' Keith,poor boy, COULDN'T stare, an' John knows it. Oh, Susan, do you supposewe could manage it?"
"Why, of course. I'll tell him right away, an' he'll go over; I knowhe'll go!" exclaimed Susan, all interest at once.
"Oh, but that wouldn't do at all!" cried Mrs. McGuire. "Don't you see?John refuses, absolutely refuses, to see any one; an' he wouldn't seeKeith, if I should ASK him to. But he's interested in Keith--I KNOWhe's that, for once, when I was talkin' to Mr. McGuire about Keith,John broke in an' asked two or three questions, an' he's NEVER donethat before, about anybody. An' so I was pretty sure it was becauseKeith was blind, you know, like himself."
"Yes, I see, I see."
"An' if I can only manage it so they'll meet without John's knowin'they're goin' to, I believe he'll get to talkin' with him before heknows it; an' that it'll do him a world of good. Anyway, somethin'sgot to be done, Susan--it's GOT to be--to get him out of this awfulstate he's in."
"Well, we'll do it. I know we can do it some way."
"You think Keith'll do his part?" Mrs. McGuire's eyes were anxious.
"I'm sure he will--when he understands."
"Then listen," proposed Mrs. McGuire eagerly. "I'll get my John out onto the back porch to-morrow mornin'. That's the only place outdoors ICAN get him--he can't be seen from the street there, you know. I'llget him there as near ten o'clock as I can. You be on the watch, an'as soon as I get him all nicely fixed, you get Keith to come out intoyour yard an' stroll over to the fence an' speak to him, an' then comeup on to the porch an' sit down, just naturally. He can do that allright, can't he? It's just wonderful--the way he gets aroundeverywhere, with that little cane of his!"
"Yes, oh, yes."
"Well, I thought he could. An' tell him to keep right on talkin' everyminute so my John won't have a chance to get up an' go into the house.Of course, I shall be there myself, at first. We never leave himalone, you know. But as soon as Keith comes, I shall go. They'll getalong better by themselves, I'm sure--only, of course, I shall bewhere I can keep watch out of the window. Now do you understand?"
"Yes, an' we can do it. I know we can do it."
"All right, then. I'm not so sure we can, but we'll try it, anyway,"sighed Mrs. McGuire, rising to her feet, the old worry back on herface. "Well, I must be goin'. Mr. McGuire'll have a fit. He's asnervous as a witch when he's left alone with John. There! What did Itell you?" she broke off, with an expressive gesture and glance, as acareworn-looking man appeared in the doorway of the house across thetwo back yards, and peered anxiously over at the Burtons' kitchendoor. "Now, don't forget--ten o'clock to-morrow mornin'."
"I won't forget," promised Susan cheerfully, "Now, do you go home an'set easy, Mis' McGuire, an' don't you fret no more. It's comin' outall right--all right, I tell you," she reiterated, as Mrs. McGuirehurried through the doorway.
But when Mrs. McGuire was gone Susan drew a dubious sigh; and hercheery smile had turned to a questioning frown as she went in searchof Keith. Very evidently Susan was far from feeling quite so sureabout Keith's cooperation as she would have Mrs. McGuire think.
Keith was in the living-room, his head bowed in his two hands, hiselbows on the table before him. At the first sound of Susan's steps helifted his head with a jerk.
"I was lookin' for you," began Susan the moment she had crossed thethreshold. Susan had learned that Keith hated above all things to haveto speak first, or to ask, "Who is it?" "Mis' McGuire's jest beenhere."
"Yes, I heard her voice," returned the boy indifferently.
"She was tellin' about her John."
"How is he getting along?"
"He's in a bad way. Oh, he's real well physicianally, but he's in abad way in his mind."
"Well, you don't wonder, do you?"
"Oh, no, 'course not. Still, well, for one thing, he don't like to seefolks."
"Strange! Now, I'd think he'd just dote on seeing folks, wouldn'tyou?"
Susan caught the full force of the sarcasm, but superbly she ignoredit.
"Well, I don't know--maybe; but, anyhow, he don't, an' Mis' McGuire'sthat worried she don't know what to do. You see, she found him oncewith his daddy's pistol"--Susan was talking very fast now--"an''course that worked her up somethin' terrible. I'm afraid he hain'tgot much backbone. They don't dare to leave him alone a minute--not aminute. An' Mis' McGuire, she was wonderin' if--if you couldn't help'em out some way."
"_I_?" The short ejaculation was full of amazement.
"Yes. That's what she come over for this mornin'."
"I? They forget." Keith fell back bitterly. "John McGuire might gethold of a dozen revolvers, and I wouldn't know it."
"Oh, 'twa'n't that. They didn't want you to WATCH him. They wanted youto--Well, it's jest this. Mis' McGuire thought as how if she could gether John out on the back porch, an' you happened to be in our backyard, an' should go over an' speak to him, maybe you'd get to talkin'with him, an' go up an' sit down. She thought maybe 'twould get himout of hisself that way. You see, he won't talk to--to most folks. Hedon't like to be stared at." (Susan threw a furtive glance intoKeith's face, then looked quickly away.) "But she thought maybe heWOULD talk to you."
"Yes, I--see." Keith drew in his breath with a little catch.
"An' so she said there wa'n't anybody anywhere that could help so muchas you--if you would."
"Why, of course, if I really could HELP--"
Susan did not need to look into Keith's face to catch the longing andheart-hunger and dawning hope in the word left suspended on h
is lips.She felt her own throat tighten; but in a moment she managed to speakwith steady cheerfulness.
"Well, you can. You can help a whole lot. I'm sure you can. An' Mis'McGuire is, too. An' what's more, you're the only one what can help'em, in this case. So we'll keep watch to-morrow mornin', an' when hecomes out on the porch--well, we'll see what we will see." And Susan,just as if her own heart was not singing a triumphant echo of the songshe knew was in his, turned away with an elaborate air ofindifference.
Yet, when to-morrow came, and when Keith went out into the yard inresponse to the presence of John McGuire on his back porch, the resultwas most disappointing--to Susan. To Keith it did not seem to be somuch so. But perhaps Keith had not expected quite what Susan hadexpected. At all events, Keith came back to the house with a glow onhis face and a springiness in his step that Susan had not seen therefor months. Yet all that had happened was that Keith had called outfrom the gate a pleasant "Good-morning!" to the blinded soldier, andhad followed it with an inconsequential word or two about the weather.John McGuire had answered a crisp, cold something, and had risen atonce to go into the house. Keith, at the first sound of his feet onthe porch floor, had turned with a cheery "Well, I must be going backto the house." Whereupon John McGuire had sat down again, and Mrs.McGuire, who at Keith's first words, had started to her feet, droppedback into her chair.
Apparently not much accomplished, certainly; yet there was the glow onKeith's face and the springiness in Keith's step; and when he reachedthe kitchen, he said this to Susan:
"The next time John McGuire is on the back porch, please let me know."
And Susan let him know, both then and at subsequent times.
It was a pretty game and one well worth the watching. Certainly Susanand Mrs. McGuire thought it so. On the one side were persistence andperseverance and infinite tact. On the other were a distrustfulantagonism and a palpable longing for an understanding companionship.
At first the intercourse between the two blind youths consisted of amere word or two tossed by Keith to the other who gave a still shorterword in reply. And even this was not every day, for John McGuire wasnot out on the porch every day. But as the month passed, he came moreand more frequently, and one evening Mrs. McGuire confided to Susanthe fact that John seemed actually to fret now if a storm kept himindoors.
"An' he listens for Keith to come along the fence--I know he does,"she still further declared. "Oh, I know he doesn't let him say muchyet, but he hasn't jumped up to go into the house once since thosefirst two or three times, an' that's somethin'. An' what's more, helet Keith stay a whole minute at the gate talkin' yesterday!" shefinished in triumph.
"Yes, an' the best of it is," chimed in Susan, "it's helpin' KeithBurton hisself jest as much as 'tis John McGuire. Why, he ain't thesame boy since he's took to tryin' to get your John to talkin'. An' heasks me a dozen times a mornin' if John's out on the porch yet. An'when he IS out there, he don't lose no time in goin' out hisself."
Yet it was the very next morning that Keith, after eagerly asking ifJohn McGuire were on the back porch, did not go out. Instead hesettled back in his chair and picked up one of his embossed books.
Susan frowned in amazed wonder, and opened her lips as if to speak.But after a glance at Keith's apparently absorbed face, she turned andwent back to her work in the kitchen. Twice during the next tenminutes, however, she invented an excuse to pass again through theliving-room, where Keith sat. Yet, though she said a pointed somethingeach time about John McGuire on the back porch, Keith did not respondsave with an indifferent word or two. And, greatly to her indignation,he was still sitting in his chair with his book when at noon JohnMcGuire, on the porch across the back yard, rose from his seat andwent into the house.
Susan was still more indignant when, the next morning, the sameprogramme was repeated--except for the fact that Susan's reminders ofJohn McGuire's presence on the back porch were even more pointed thanthey had been on the day before. Again the third morning it was thesame. Susan resolved then to speak. She said to herself that "patiencehad ceased to be virtuous," and she lay awake half that nightrehearsing a series of arguments and pleadings which she meant topresent the next morning. She was the more incited to this owing toMrs. McGuire's distracted reproaches the evening before.
"Why, John has asked for him, actually ASKED for him," Mrs. McGuirehad wept. "An' it is cruel, the cruelest thing I ever saw, to get thatpoor boy all worked up to the point of really WANTIN' to talk withhim, an' then stay away three whole days like this!"
On the fourth morning, therefore, when John McGuire appeared on theback porch, Susan went into the Burton living-room with the avoweddetermination of getting Keith out of the house and into the backyard, or of telling him exactly what she thought of him.
She had all of her elaborate scheming for nothing, however, for at herfirst terse announcement that John McGuire was on the back porch,Keith sprang to his feet with a cheery:
"So? Well, I guess I'll go out myself."
And Susan was left staring at him with open eyes and mouth--yet nottoo dazed to run to the open window and watch what happened.
And this is what Susan saw--and heard. Keith, with his almostuncannily skillful stick to guide him, sauntered down the path andcalled a cheery greeting to John McGuire--a John McGuire who, in hiseagerness to respond, leaned away forward in his chair with a suddenflame of color in his face.
Keith still sauntered toward the dividing fence, pausing only to feelwith his fingers and pick the one belated rose from the bush at thegate. He pushed the gate open then, still talking cheerfully, and thenext moment Susan was holding her breath, for Keith had gone straightup the walk and up the steps, and had dropped himself into the vacantchair beside John McGuire--and John McGuire, after a faint start as ifto rise, had fallen back in his seat, and had turned his faceuncertainly, fearfully, yet with infinite longing, toward the blindyouth at his side.
Susan looked then at Mrs. McGuire. Mrs. McGuire, too, was plainlyholding her breath suspended. On her face, too, were uncertainty,fearfulness, and infinite longing. For a moment she watched the twoboys intently. Then she rose and with cautious steps made her way intothe house. After supper that night she came over and told Susan allabout it. Her face was beaming.
"Did you see them?" she began breathlessly. "Wasn't it wonderful? Awhole half-hour those two blessed boys sat there an' talked; an' Johnlaughed twice, actually laughed."
"Yes, I know," nodded Susan, her own face no less beaming.
"An' to think how just last night I was scoldin' an' blamin' Keithbecause he didn't come over these last three days. An' I never saw atall what he was up to."
"Up to?" frowned Susan.
"Yes, yes! Don't you see? He did it on purpose--stayed away threewhole days, so John would miss him an' WANT him. An' John DID misshim. Why, he listened for him all the time. I could just SEE he waslistenin'. An' that's what made me so angry, because Keith didn'tcome. The idea!--My boy wantin' somebody, an' that somebody not there!
"But I know now. I understand. An' I love him for it. He did it tomake him want him. An' it worked. Why, if he'd come before, every day,just as usual, John wouldn't have talked with him. I know he wouldn't.But now--oh, Susan, it was wonderful, wonderful! I watched 'em fromthe window. I HAD to watch. I was afraid--still. An' of course I heardsome things. An', oh, Susan, it was wonderful, the way that boyunderstood."
"You mean--Keith?"
"Yes. You see, first John began to talk just as he talks to us--ravin'because he's so strong an' well, an' likely to live to be a hundred;an' of how he'll look, one of these days, with his little tin cup heldout for pennies an' his sign, 'Please Help the Blind,' an' of whathe's got to look forward to all his life. Oh, Susan, it--it's enoughto break the heart of a stone, when he talks like that."
Susan drew in her breath.
"Don't you s'pose I know? Well, I guess I do! But what did Keith sayto him?"
"Nothin'. An' that was the first wonderful thing. You see, we--wealways tal
k an' try to comfort him when he talks like that. But Keithdidn't. He just let him talk, with nothin' but just a sympathetic wordnow an' then. But it wasn't long before I noticed a wonderful thingwas happenin'. Keith was beginnin' to talk--not about that awful tincup an' the pennies an' the sign, but about other things; first aboutthe rose in his hand. An' pretty quick John was talkin' about it, too.He had the rose an' was smellin' of it. Then Keith had a new knife,an' he passed that over, an' pretty quick I saw that John had thatlittle link puzzle of Keith's, an' was havin' a great time tryin' tostraighten it out. That's the first time I heard him laugh.
"I began to realize then what Keith was doin'. He was fillin' John'smind full of somethin' else beside himself, for just a minute, an' wasshowin' him that there were things he could call by name, like therose an' the knife an' the puzzle, even if he couldn't SEE 'em. Oh,Keith didn't SAY anything like that to him--trust him for that. Butbefore John knew it, he was DOIN' it--callin' things by name, I mean.
"An' Keith is comin' again to-morrow. John TOLD me so. An' if youcould have seen his face when he said it! Oh, Susan, isn't itwonderful?" she finished fervently, as she turned to go.
"It is, indeed--wonderful," murmured Susan. But Susan's eyes were outthe window on Keith's face--Keith and his father were coming up thewalk talking; and on Keith's face was a light Susan had never seenthere before.
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