Читать книгу All Through the Night (Musaicum Romance Classics) - Grace Livingston Hill - Страница 4

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Mrs. Marshall's car had been gone only a short time when a handsome naval officer came slowly down the street with a package in his arms, looking carefully at the numbers of each house.

Corliss emerged from her hiding in the kitchen just in time to see him in the near distance. She remained within sight to watch him. Such a personable young man in uniform she had not seen since she came East to attend this awful funeral of a grandmother she had seldom seen and had not been taught to love.

Corliss went nearer to the open window to see him better and wondered if it would be too obvious if she were to go back to the chair in which she had eaten her only half-finished dinner.

But the young officer was stepping more quickly now and was actually turning in at the gate. He was coming here! What was he? A florist? Surely not, as he was in uniform! Of course not.

Corliss gave a quick pat to her golden curls, adjusted a smile of come-hitherness on her fierce young features, and got ready to go to the door when he should knock. She had no intention of letting an opportunity like this pass her by.

But Corliss was reckoning without her hostess, for Dale had lingered on the porch to straighten out the evidence of the recent meal served there before more people should arrive, and she went forward with a quiet little smile as the officer came up the steps saluting her.

"Is this where Miss Huntley lives, Miss Dale Huntley?" he asked with a grin of recognition. "I thought I'd find you. You wouldn't remember me, would you?" And there was a wistfulness in his voice that it was most fortunate that Corliss was not outside to hear. "I'm just the guy that helped you wipe dishes about a month ago at the Social Center. I had another short furlough, and I thought I'd stop by and see if you were still on the job."

"Oh yes, I remember you," said Dale with a sudden lighting of her eyes. "You are David Kenyon. Isn't that so?"

"That's right. You've got a wonderful memory. All the fellows you must meet at that center."

"Oh, but that night you were there was the last night I've been to the Center. You see, we've had sickness here, and death——"

"Yes, I know," said the young man with a sudden gentle sobering of his expression. "They told me. They said your grandmother was gone. And I remembered how you spoke of her. You've lived with her for a long time, and it seemed as if you must love her a lot. I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind if I brought a few flowers, just to show my sympathy."

He held out the florist's box he carried, almost shyly.

"Oh, how very kind of you," said Dale, quick appreciative tears springing to her eyes at such thoughtfulness in a young stranger. "Do you know, I told Grandmother about you when I got home that night. She had been a little worried about my staying out so late, and she was so grateful that you had walked home with me. Of course she wanted to know what kind of a man you were, and I told her how you came out in the kitchen and helped me wash up the last dishes after the other helpers had gone. She enjoyed hearing what we talked about, and she said, ‘If you ever meet that young fellow again, you tell him I thank him for being helpful to you and for bringing you home. And tell him I like his name, David!'"

"Say! I appreciate that," said the young man. "You described her so pleasantly I was quite disappointed when I heard she was gone. I had hoped I might be able to find you and perhaps have the pleasure of meeting her. You know, my own grandmother died while I was overseas the first time, and she was the last of my family, so I have missed her greatly this homecoming."

"Oh, I'm sorry you couldn't have met my grandmother, then. She would have loved it, I know. She was so sharp and sort of young for her years. She could enter right into conversation with anyone and seem to understand them. Would you—care to—see her now? She looks so sweet, lying there, just as if she is glad to be seeing heaven."

"Yes, I'd like to see her," he said gently. "That is, if you don't feel I would be intruding."

"Intruding? Why, of course not! I'd love to have you see her. We'll take your flowers up and give them to her. Come!"

She brushed bright tears away and led him in the front door and up the stairs. Right past the curious Corliss, who had quickly and arrogantly arranged herself where they would have to brush by her and could not, she was sure, fail to see her in her recently repaired makeup.

But David Kenyon did not cast an eye in her direction, although he passed so near he almost had to push by her, following Dale up the stairs. Dale had not even noticed that she was there until she had started up the stairs, and then she could only pray in her heart that her young cousin would not be moved to scream or otherwise mar the quiet atmosphere of the home from which the moving spirit had fled.

Corliss stared up after them until they vanished toward the room where the grandmother lay, and then she flounced out onto the porch and met her brother, who had just come whistling up the walk from the street.

"Hi, Cor; didn't I see a navy man coming in here? What's become of him, and how come you're not flirting with him with those big, wistful eyes of yours?"

"Oh, get out! You're a pest if there ever was one! That navy man is a flat tire. He's gone upstairs with Dale, acts as if Gram was his relative. It makes me tired, all this carrying on about a dead person. When you're dead you're dead, and that's the end of it, isn't it? Then why all the shilly-shally? Where've you been? Isn't there a movie theater around here where we could go see a picture or something? I'm simply fed up with all this funeral business. And where is that hotel Dale talked about? I think it's time we found it and moved on. Go find Mother and tell her to come out here. I can't see going into that house again. It makes me sick to smell those flowers. I'd like to pull them all down and scatter them on the sidewalk. I wonder what Dale would do if I did, now that her precious Mrs. Marshall has been here and seen them. I believe I will."

"You better go easy, Cor; that's the undertaker coming now. He'll give you ballyhoo if you touch 'em, and he looks as if he could wallop you good if he got mad enough."

"Oh, get out, you bad boy! You know perfectly well he wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't he, though?" mimicked the loving brother. "Wait and see! Just you wait till I tell Mother what you said about those flowers. Now she's seen the dame that furnished 'em she wouldn't let you get by with an act like that!"

So the bickering went on out on the porch, with rising angry voices floating around the neighborhood.

"Isn't that perfectly awful!" said little Mrs. Bolton next door, peering out behind the curtains and then pulling her window down sharply with a bang to let the young people understand she was hearing them.

But upstairs Lieutenant David Kenyon and Dale Huntley were standing quietly before the sweet dead face among the flowers. The sun was slowly sinking behind the distant hill and made a soft rosy light on the quiet, lovely face of the old lady, lighting up her silver hair and giving a glory that was not of earth, as if God's sun would touch her brow with a hint of the heavenly glory that her clear soul was wearing now.

"Why, she's beautiful!" said the young officer in surprise. "I've seen a lot of death lately, but I never saw a face glorified like that. I didn't imagine death could be beautiful!"

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" said Dale softly. "She was like that in life, lovely of expression. Only there's something different about it now. Something not of earth. Something heavenly. Doesn't it seem that way to you?"

"It does," said the young man reverently. "It seems—" he hesitated, and then went on, "it almost seems as if she were standing right in the Presence of God and had just looked at Him for the first time. Only I suppose she must have known Him well before she went away."

"She did!" said Dale, brushing the quick tears away. "Only I suppose it is different when one gets there and really sees Him in His beauty. ‘The King in His beauty.' She used to say that sometimes, smiling to herself, those last few days. ‘The King in His beauty!' I wonder what it will be like when we first see Him."

"Well, she's seen Him now," said the young man with conviction.

"Yes, there's no doubt about that!" said Dale, with a smile like a rainbow through her tears. "Oh, I'm so glad you stopped by! It's good to have someone who understands. A great many loved her, but very few knew her as she really was. She was reserved and quiet, just a touch of fun and a twinkle in her eyes. She had a great sense of humor, too, but they didn't all understand how real Christ was to her. But you are a Christian then, aren't you? I didn't know."

"One could scarcely be anything else where I've been for the last two years," he said gravely, "unless one turned into a devil and grew hard. Coming near to death every day puts a different light on life and what it means. You find out that you need a Savior when you are surrounded by death. But somehow I never realized that death could look like this."

They talked a few minutes while Dale opened the box and took out the lovely flowers he had brought.

"Lilies of the valley!" she said. "How lovely! And Grandmother was so fond of them. But I thought it was too late for them."

"I guess it is late," said the officer, "but somehow they seemed the fitting thing for a grandmother gone home. I could not send flowers to my own grandmother's funeral because I did not know in time, so I thought I would like to bring them to this one."

"Oh, that is so kind of you!" said Dale, lifting a lovely smile to his eyes. "It seems the most beautiful thing that anyone could do. We'll put them in her hands. I can imagine just how she would have held them in her lifetime."

Dale lifted the white hands that were folded across the breast and put the mass of delicate little blossoms in them, just as the dear old lady might have picked them up and held them to her to smell their exquisite perfume, and then the two stood back a little, looking at the sweet picture it made.

"It seems," said the young man, "as if there must have been somebody else's flowers that should have priority over mine; as if I were stealing in where I have no right to be, so very close to her. I am only a stranger to her, you know."

"No," said Dale quickly, "you are not a stranger. You are someone whom God has sent, and it comforts me to see your flowers there, because you understand. And there are no flowers she loved as much as those lilies of the valley."

"Thank you," he said. "I'm glad I could help a little."

And then there were sounds from downstairs of more people coming, and the young man drew back, feeling that their quiet time together was over.

"When is the service?" he asked wistfully.

"to-morrow afternoon at two o'clock," said Dale. "I wish you could be here. Grandmother arranged it all. She wanted the service to tell the story of salvation, if there should be somebody here who did not know the way."

"I shall be glad to be here," said the young man, "if I won't be intruding. I am afraid this may be my last leave before I go back overseas, but I have till midnight to-morrow night. I was hoping I might have another word or two with you before I leave, but I suppose you will be very busy."

"Not too busy to talk to you. I shall be so glad if you will come to the service, and I can give you time afterward. You will help to tide me over the first hard hours knowing that she is gone."

He looked down at her tenderly and smiled. "Thank you," he said quietly.

And then they could hear those other people coming up the stairs with Aunt Blanche's clarion voice leading them on self-consciously, as if it were entirely her funeral, glory and all, although she had not as yet come upstairs to see the grandmother.

David Kenyon put his strong, warm hand on Dale's with a quick clasp like a benediction.

"Thank you, and good-bye till to-morrow. I'll be praying for you all through the night, for I know it will be a hard one for you."

Then with a smile like a blessing he was gone, down the stairs alone, out the door, and into the street before Corliss realized that he was coming. He vanished so quickly that she looked down the darkening street in vain to see a stalwart officer, whom she had fully intended to accompany on his way to get a little better acquainted with him.

"What happened with that navy guy, Cor?" asked her brother, looking up from the funnies over which he had been straining his eyes in the fading light.

"That's what I'm wondering," answered Corliss surlily. "I thought I was watching him every minute. I was going out to speak to him, but he just came down from the porch, swung out that gate, and disappeared before I could tell he was even there. He must wear seven-leagued boots. I never saw anybody go into nothing as quick in my life. It certainly wasn't very flattering to the family, when he must have seen us all sitting here on the porch."

"Mebbe he had to catch a train," said the boy. "Say, how long is this line gonna last? I'm about fed up with it. Why can't we go to the movies somewhere?"

"No," said his mother sharply. "We've got to wait till Dale comes down and arranges for us to go to the hotel. She'll have to send for a taxi, and I do wish she'd hurry up. All these fool neighbors coming in and staying so long! I can't see any sense in it."

"Well, why can't we go and find a taxi ourselves? Can't you phone for a taxi? Ask that servant out in the kitchen. She'll know where to get a taxi."

"No," said their mother. "It's better to stay right here till I can have it out with Dale. I've got to find out about that funeral, what time it is set and when I can have the man here to see the house. I'm afraid she's going to be hard to handle about this. She seems to think the house is hers, and it isn't, I'm quite sure. I'll have to find that lawyer our Mr. Hawkins told me about and look into things to-morrow."

"When are we going home, Mom?" asked the bored boy. "I'm fed up with his funeral business, and if you are going to hang around here any longer, I'm going home by myself."

"No!" said the mother firmly. "You are not going home alone. You are not going until the rest of us go. I may need you here to carry these things through. You aren't of age of course, but there is nothing like having the family visible. We may be able to make some money out of this. You'll be glad of that, I know. And if there is any money, we don't intend to be cheated out of it. I'm quite certain that your father told me he had furnished the money to buy this house for his mother, and if that's true, the house is mine."

"But I heard Dale say it was hers."

"It doesn't matter what she said. She's probably made that story up herself, or else Grandmother has told her some fairy tales. Of course even Grandmother may not have known where she got the house. She may have thought it was from both brothers, but I've always heard that Dale's father was sort of a ne'er-do-well. I really never knew him, you know. He went overseas before we were married and just before your father went, and Dale's father never came back. He was killed, you know."

Just then there was the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, several people, and Dale's voice could be heard gently. Aunt Blanche stopped talking and sat up abruptly.

"Now, we'll see," she murmured in a low voice to her children, and promptly there was an arrogant question in the very atmosphere, so that it was almost visible to the neighbors who came slowly down the stairs and out to the porch.

The neighbors lingered several minutes on the porch, just last tender words about the woman they loved who was gone from their midst. Aunt Blanche and her children, in spite of their avid curiosity, grew more impatient before the last kindly woman said good night and went out the little white gate.

Then Aunt Blanche, without waiting for them to get beyond earshot, rose to her feet and pinned Dale with a cold glance from her unfriendly eyes. "And now, if you have got through with all the riffraff of neighbors that seem to have so much more importance in your eyes than your own blood relations, just what are you going to do with us?"

Dale turned troubled eyes toward them. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said gently. "I suppose you are tired after your journey. Would you like to go up to your rooms now?"

"No!" screamed Corliss with one of those piercing shrieks with which she had lorded it over her family since she was born. "No! I will not sleep in this house, not with a dead person here! My mother knows I won't do that! Not ever!"

"Well, in that case, what do you want to do? Go to a hotel? I didn't know you hadn't already arranged to do that. Of course you knew I wasn't able to get away just then."

"I don't see why!" said her aunt sharply. "I should think guests in your house would be of the first consideration. But I don't suppose you've had the advantage of being brought up to know good manners from bad ones and ought to be excused on that score. But how would you suppose I could do anything about a hotel? I don't know any hotels around here."

"I'm sorry," said Dale again, "but I thought you would probably ask Hattie about them. She would know, and any hotel in this region would be all right, of course, provided you could get in. You know, this region is rather full of defense workers, and most hotels and boardinghouses are full to overflowing, just now in wartime."

"So you would expect me to go to a servant for information, would you? Well, that is another evidence of your crude manners. However, now you are here, what are you going to do with us?"

"Well, what would you like me to do? Your rooms are all in readiness upstairs, of course, and since you do not choose to occupy them, I wouldn't know just what to do. Would you like me to order a taxi to take you around to the different hotels, to see if you can find a more desirable place for the night?"

"No, certainly not," said the irate aunt. "After I've come a long journey, I'm not going around hunting a place to stay. I'm too tired for that. I think it's up to you to find me a place."

"I'm afraid I don't think so," said Dale firmly but pleasantly. "However, I'll be glad to call up and inquire whether there is room anywhere. I can call the Oxford Hotel. It's rather expensive, but it would be very nice, if they still have room. And being expensive they might be more likely to have a room left. Or would you rather I try the cheaper places first?"

"I should think that would be entirely up to you, whatever you want to pay. We are your guests, you know."

Dale stared at her aunt in slow comprehension. "Oh, I see," she said slowly. "Well, I don't see that it's my affair at all. If you are my guests, you will occupy the rooms I have arranged for you. But since they do not suit you, I think the choice would be all your own. I couldn't afford to pay hotel bills, you know."

"Then you could have sent for the undertaker and had Grandma taken away. It isn't too late to do that now."

"No," said Dale, "I can't do that. But if you won't stay here, I can call up and find out if there are any accommodations left anywhere. Or, if you and Powelton are satisfied to stay here, I can ask one of the neighbors to take in Corliss. The old lady who just went away asked if she could do anything for me. She has a little hall bedroom that is plain but immaculate, where I think Corliss could be very comfortable. I could call and ask her. Would you like that, Corliss?"

"Me? Go alone to some little old stranger's house? Not on yer life!" said Corliss hatefully.

Dale gave her a steady look and then turned into the house and went to the telephone, followed by the three guests.

"What are you doing to do?" asked Corliss impertinently. "You needn't think you can force me into anything like this. I'll scream! I'll make a scene! You haven't really heard me scream yet!"

Dale did not answer. Instead she called the number of the Oxford Hotel and asked for the manager, while the three invaders stood in a semicircle around her belligerently. Dale, as she caught a glimpse of their three unpleasant faces, could not help thinking what a contrast they were to the sweet, placid face lying upstairs with the glory of heaven upon it.

A few clear-cut questions she asked, showing that she was well versed in making business arrangements. "You have a room? Only one room? What floor is that on? The second floor? What price? Ten dollars a day? Is there a double bed? Twin beds, you say? And where would the young man sleep? The fifth floor, you say? A small hall bedroom? Five dollars a day. Oh, you say there is another larger room on the fifth next to the small one? The price is seven-fifty a day? Thank you. The lady will probably be around there to look at them. Yes, it's a lady and her daughter and son." Dale turned. "You heard what he said, didn't you? Would that be satisfactory, or do you wish me to ask at other places?"

"Yes," said Aunt Blanche. "It's best to find out what is available. Yes, call up three or four more hotels."

Dale smiled. "I'm afraid I don't know that many hotels anywhere near here. There is the Longworth and the Kenmore. No others this side of the city. Unless of course you want to go all the way in town, and that would cost you a good deal in taxi fares."

Dale turned back to the telephone and called up the Longworth but was told curtly that they had no available room at any price. Then she tried the Kenmore and found one large double room, where a cot could be put in for the young brother.

Dale gave the result briefly and then said, "Now, please excuse me a minute while I talk with Hattie. There are some plans for to-morrow she will be waiting to know, and you can talk this over and see what you want to do. When I come back I'll call a taxi for you."

Then Dale vanished into the kitchen.

"The very idea!" said the indignant aunt. "Well, I guess she'll find she'll have to pay for this. I'll have all bills sent to her."

Dale returned and ordered the taxi. She was relieved to get her unaccommodating guests off finally and be alone in the quiet of her sorrow.

"They ain't no kind of relatives for a dear lady like our Grandma to have," grumbled Hattie as she locked the back door and turned out the kitchen light. "I'm right glad they're outta the house, so I am, and I wish they didn't have to come back. They don't care nothing about her—just what they can get out of it!"

"Well there, Hattie, don't let's think such thoughts about them. That wouldn't please Grandmother, and I'm quite sure it won't make it any easier to get along with them while they are here."

"Yeah. I know that. But human nature can't stand everything, you know."

"No, but we haven't had to stand everything, Hattie. And besides, Grandmother's Lord can help us to stand even everything."

"Oh, you is just a saint, Miss Dale, an' no mistakin'," sighed the old woman. "I couldn't never be as good as you, no matter how hard I tried."

"Well, just tell the Lord about it, Hattie, and then forget it. Do you know, I don't believe they know the Lord, and that's what's the matter with them. But if we act unpleasantly to them, they won't have much opinion of the way we serve the Lord, either. We've got to think of that, you know, Hattie. Grandmother always said our business on earth was to witness for the Lord."

"I know, Miss Dale. Yes, I know well enough, but I ain't so much on the doin'. Say, Miss Dale, do you reckon they will come to breakfast?"

"I don't know, Hattie. I told them breakfast would be at eight and we were having lunch at half past twelve to get everything cleared away in time for the service, but Aunt Blanche didn't answer, so we'll just have a simple breakfast and lunch, and if they come we can always cook another egg. Dry cereal, coffee, toast, jam, and orange juice. Then that nice soup you made for lunch, and hot muffins with applesauce. If that doesn't suit them, they can go back to their hotel. But I don't much believe they will come till lunch, or perhaps only in time for the service. However, don't worry about it. Just plan simply and have enough so if they do come we don't need to be embarrassed. Now, good night, Hattie, and thank you for the way you've carried on to-day and made things easier for me."

"Oh, you blessed little lady, I ain't done nothin'. I just wish I coulda made things easier. Good night."

And then the two went quietly to their beds to rest for the day that was ahead and to ask keeping all through the night and the days that were to follow.