Читать книгу A Girl to Come Home To (Musaicum Romance Classics) - Grace Livingston Hill - Страница 7

Table of Contents

Three girls were grouped together in a pleasant corner of the Red Cross room sewing as if their very life depended upon their efforts. One was running the sewing machine, putting together tiny garments for the other two to take over and finish. The second girl was opening seams and ironing them flat and then finishing them off with delicate feather-stitching in pink and blue, binding edges of tiny white flannel jackets and wrappers with pink and blue satin ribbon. The third girl was buttonholing scallops with silk twists on tiny flannel petticoats. They were making several charming little layettes for a number of new babies who had arrived overnight without bringing their suitcases with them, and these three girls had promised to see that the needy babies were supplied before night. And because these three girls were used to having all things lovely in their own lives, it never occurred to them to sling the little garments together carelessly. They set their stitches as carefully and made their scallops as heavy and perfect as if they had been doing them for their own family. Others might sling such outfits together by expeditious rule, but they must make them also beautiful.

“Aren’t they darling?” said Isabelle Graham. “I feel as if I were making doll clothes and I’d like to play with the dolls myself. They say that a couple of these poor little mothers have wept their hearts out mourning for their husbands and they haven’t taken time to get anything ready for their babies. The husband of one baby’s mother has been reported killed, and another one is taken prisoner. A terrible world for a little child to be born into.”

“Yes,” said an elderly woman coming over from a group across the room to take the measurement of the hems the girls were putting into the little petticoats, “I think it’s a crime! Bringing little helpless babies into a world like this. And all because their silly mothers couldn’t wait till their men came back from fighting. It’s ridiculous!”

Alida Hopkins shut her pretty lips tightly on the three pins she was holding in her mouth, ready to set the measurement of the little petticoat she was working on, and cast a scornful look at the woman.

But the woman pursued the subject. “Don’t you think so, Alida?”

“I don’t think it’s any of my business,” said Alida with a little laugh. “It certainly isn’t the poor babies’ fault, and they’re here and can’t go around without clothes in this freezing weather, so I’m here to make clothes for them. Beryl, have you got any more of that lovely white silk twist? I’ve an inch more scallops to make on this petticoat, and I don’t like to change color.”

“Oh yes,” said Beryl Sanderson, fishing in her handbag for the spool and handing it out. “I have a whole lot at home. I bought it before they stopped selling such things. I thought it might fit in somewhere.”

“Well you certainly were forehanded,” said the critical woman sharply. “But I wouldn’t waste real silk twist on baby garments for little war foundlings. It won’t be appreciated I tell you. Better save it for your own children someday.”

Beryl smiled sweetly and covered the rising color in her cheeks with a dimple. “Well, you see, Mrs. Thaxter,” she said amusedly, “I haven’t reached that need yet, so I guess we’d better let this little war baby have the benefit.”

Mrs. Thaxter cast a pitying, disapproving glace at the girl, pursed her lips and tossed her head. “Oh, well, I guess you’re as improvident as the rest,” she said sharply. “I thought you had better sense.”

“Improvident?” laughed Beryl. “Why should I provide for children I don’t possess and may never have and let some other little child suffer?”

“Hm!” said Mrs. Thaxter. “I guess they won’t do much suffering for the lack of a few needlefuls of buttonhole twist.” And she marched off to the other end of the room with her head in the air. Her departure was announced to the room by little rollicking ripples of laughter from the girls she had left.

“Shhh!” warned Beryl softly. “There’s no need to make her angry, even if she is an old crab. Do you know she has worked all this week cutting out garments, worked hours over time?”

“Yes,” said Bonny Stewart with a twinkle, “and ripped every last worker up the back while she did it. I was here. I heard her, and believe me it was the limit!”

“Well, I guess she’s pretty upset that her Janie got married without letting her know before her soldier went away. And now he’s got himself killed and Mrs. Thaxter has to keep telling Janie ‘I told you so’ all the time,” said Isabelle with a trill of a laugh.

“Oh, but he didn’t get himself killed, he’s only a prisoner. Hadn’t you heard?” said Celia Bradbury, drawing her chair over to join the group and getting out the little pink booties she was knitting. “The word came last night from the War Department. Janie called up and told my sister. She’s in her Sunday school class. She’s very hopeful that he will get home now.”

“Being taken prisoner by the enemy is almost worse than death these days,” commented Beryl sadly.

“Yes, I think this war is horrid,” said Bonny with tears in her voice. “I don’t see why somebody doesn’t put a stop to it.”

“That’s what they are trying to do, child,” said Beryl with a smile.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” answered Bonny. “But say, did you know both the Graeme brothers came home last night? I was on the train. I saw them, and they’re perfectly stunning in their uniforms. Not all the servicemen get killed or taken prisoner. Say, Beryl, didn’t you used to know those Graeme boys?”

“Why yes,” said Beryl looking up interestedly. “I went to high school with Jeremy. He was a fine scholar and a swell person. I didn’t know his brother so well; he was older than I and out of high school, in college, but I’ve always heard good things about him. They’ve got a wonderful mother and father. My mother has often told me nice little kindly things they’ve done for people who were in trouble.”

“Oh, yes,” said Alida with a half-contemptuous smile, “they’re like that. Always doing good. Terribly kind but kind of drab and uninteresting.”

“No,” said Beryl suddenly, “they’re not drab and uninteresting. My mother has told me a lot about them. She loves to talk with them. And certainly Jeremy was interesting. The whole school loved to hear him recite. He could make the dullest study sound interesting. He always found so much to tell that wasn’t really in the books.”

“You mean he made it up, out of his head?” asked Alida.

“Oh no,” said Beryl, “he’d look it up in other books, the dictionary and encyclopedia, and sometimes several other books. He always told where he’d found it and who had written things about it. He studied up all his subjects that way.”

“My word!” said Isabelle. “He must be a hound for hard labor.”

“But he seemed to like it,” said Beryl, “and certainly the class liked it, and the teachers were crazy over him.”

“I’ll bet they were. It probably saved them a lot of work preparing for the class, and they likely lauded him to the skies. I suppose he’s as conceited as they make ’em.”

“No,” said Beryl gravely, “he didn’t seem to be. In fact, he always appeared to be quite humble, in spite of the fact that he was well thought of in athletics.”

“Well, speaking of Jeremy Graeme,” said Bonny Stewart, “he’s going to speak at our church next Sunday night. I just remembered it was in the church paper that my sister brought home from Sunday school, and I happened to read it. It was headed ‘Local hero will speak at the evening service’!”

“Hm!” said Mrs. Thaxter, appearing on the scene to make sure she had the right measurement for petticoat hems. “I guess you mean his older brother, Rodney Graeme. They wouldn’t ask that little squirt to speak. He’s only been in service a little over a year, and Rodney has been there three years. I understand Rodney did some notable things during his service.”

“No,” said Bonny firmly. “It was Jeremy. Definitely. I remember thinking what a strange name he had. And it said he had only been over there a few months over a year and was once reported missing but was saved in some unusual way. Say, girls, let’s all go to our church next Sunday and give him a good send-off. Is he shy, Beryl? We won’t embarrass him, will we, and spoil his speech? We might hide in the Sunday School room where he wouldn’t see us.”

Beryl smiled. “No, he isn’t shy.”

“Well, girls, will you go? You will, won’t you, Beryl?”

“Why, I might,” said Beryl. “I’ll see what plans Mother has. Perhaps I’ll go. But if I were you I wouldn’t hide. He wouldn’t mind your being there, I’m sure. He isn’t that kind.”

“But say, girls,” said Isabelle thoughtfully, “wasn’t that brother Rodney the one who was engaged to some girl with bleached hair? Jessica. That was her name. And she sported around with his ring on and made a great fuss over being engaged, and then after he went away she got married to some rich old man? Wasn’t that Rodney Graeme’s girl?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Beryl Sanderson. “He always impressed me as a grave, quiet kind of man, the few times I ever saw him. The kind you would trust, you know.”

“Oh, that kind. Well, a girl just looking for a good time wouldn’t stick by a fellow like that, of course,” said Alida. “Say, what’s this Jeremy like? Awfully religious? Because if he is, I won’t go Sunday. I don’t care much for religion anyway. It always makes me cry and wish I’d never been born.”

“I really don’t know, Alida,” said Beryl almost haughtily. “I only knew him in high school, but he seemed very cheerful then.”

“Why, he’ll likely just talk about the war I suppose,” said Isabelle. “They all do. I adore to hear the fellows tell about their experiences, how many enemies they killed and all that and how they just got off by the skin of their teeth.”

“Isabelle! You bloodthirsty thing! How dreadful!” exclaimed Bonny.

“Well, isn’t that the way we’re supposed to feel during this war? We’re out to get the enemy as quick as we can and finish them up so they can’t start anything again, not in our lifetime, anyway. Isn’t that the idea?” said Isabelle.

“Well, anyway, girls you’ll all go, won’t you?” said Bonny Stewart. “I’ll get some credit up in heaven for bringing so many to church, won’t I? Come and meet at my house. It’s near the church, and I know my way around, you know. I’m supposed to be a member of that church. Meet at my house, and we’ll have a cup of tea and some little frosted cakes before we go over to the church. Beryl, why don’t you invite Jeremy Graeme to come over along with you, and we can all get acquainted with him?”

“No,” said Beryl with dignity. “He wouldn’t want to go to a reception before he spoke, and anyway I wouldn’t do that sort of thing. I’ll be at church, I think, but I’m not sure I’ll be over at your place, Bonny, beforehand. Mother has company, and I may be needed at home until time for church to begin. I’ll look you all up if I can.”

Then the noon whistle sounded and there was a general movement to put away work and go out to lunch. Beryl slipped away out of notice to think over what she had been hearing.

So, Jeremy had been doing notable things in the war and was going to speak about them. It would be interesting, of course, and she was sure she would like to hear him. Yet she recognized in herself a certain shrinking from seeing him again lest the grown-up Jeremy might disappoint her. For he had been one of her childhood’s admirations, and she didn’t want to think that he had failed to turn out the kind of man his boyhood had promised. She did not like to think her little-girl ideas of people had been wrong. Somehow they made a happy young background for the childish self she had been.

When Beryl reached home she went to her own room and sat down to think. Her mind was going back to her days at school and to the times when she was interested in this one and that. It was very plain to her as she thought back, remembering the boy they had but just a few minutes before been talking about. Presently she got up and went to her bookcase where there were several big books full of snapshots and photographs of her school days. She had scarcely looked them over since she graduated from high school. Yet she knew exactly where to find the ones she wanted. They were grouped together in the middle of the book, flanked on either side by other members of her class. And there was one a little larger than the rest, not really a photograph, just a page cut from the class yearbook. For some time she studied the pictures, and when she put the book away she decided that definitely she wanted to go and hear Jeremy talk and see if he had carried out the promise of his childhood. Then she put away the thought of it all and went to her appointment at the hospital where she was taking a friend’s place nursing for the afternoon.

There was another woman interested in the one who was to speak in the Harper Memorial Church next Sunday night, and that was Louella Chatterton.

Louella had gone into the city to visit with an old friend, also to be near the lawyer whom she wanted to consult about some business matters, and as she was passing along the street a name on the advertising board in front of a church caught her eye. Graeme. Why, could this be the Riverton Graemes? Louella about-faced and drew up in front of the church, studying the notice.

Lieutenant Commander Jeremy R. Graeme will speak in this church Sunday evening at 8:00 P.M. Come and hear the thrilling experience of this young serviceman. Come and bring your friends.

Louella read the notice over several times, and when she started on her way she headed for a drugstore where there would be a telephone. Seated in the booth she called up her number and asked for Mrs. De Groot, and when a voice responded she said gushingly, “Is that you Jessica? I’ve got the most exciting news to tell you. Can’t you take dinner with me tonight? We can talk so much better in my room at the hotel, with no interruptions, and meantime I’ll be looking up details and be able to tell you more than I can give you now over the telephone.”

“Oh! Louella, what do you mean? What is it all about? Has it anything to do with Rodney Graeme?”

“Well, yes, in a way. I’ve got to find out a little bit more about it, but I’ve got a scheme and it ought surely to give you an opportunity to meet him and have a good talk, which ought to clear the atmosphere, don’t you think?”

“Well, yes, it might. But what is all this? How did you hear about it, and what is it really?”

“Why, it’s just that he seems to be advertised to address an audience in the Harper Memorial Church, here in the city. I have seen the notice outside the church so that’s how I know about it. He’s a lieutenant commander, isn’t he? I thought so. They’ve got the names mixed somewhat, but I know it must be Rodney. It says Jeremy R., but that means nothing. Notices often get the names or the initials wrong, and anyway, even if it should be Jeremy, Rodney will probably be with him on the platform, and perhaps we can work it so he will come and sit with us. I’m sure this is a break for us. I knew I’d find a way for you to see him in spite of his stubbornness. I’ll find a way yet.”

“Where are you?” asked the fretful voice of the girl.

“Why, I’m down in the city at a drugstore phoning. No, I’m not in the village of Riverton. I’m down in the city. I’ve been staying all night with a friend I met out west, and I’m coming home tonight. Will you be at my hotel by six thirty? All right, I’ll be seeing you then, and we’ll fix something up.”