Читать книгу The Ghost of Melody Lane - Lilian Garis - Страница 5

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Thalia Bond was speaking. She was all but breathless, Carol noted, as she listened.

“Oh, Oh, Carol!” Thalia almost gasped.

“Yes! Yes. What is it?”

“It’s Mrs. Becket. They just called and told me that she is ill—very strangely ill, it seems. They tried to get you, but—”

“I know. I was talking to Glenn. Oh, what is it?”

“She seems to be ill.”

“Ill?” Carol was much disturbed. “Why,” she said, “I saw her just for a moment this morning. She was all right then. What can be the matter?”

“If you ask me,” drawled Thalia’s voice, “I think she’s just scared, Carol.”

“Frightened! Of what?”

“That’s it—what? If she knew, she wouldn’t be scared. Can you run over with me?”

“I can’t! I’d love to, but I am going out with Glenn to Long Hill. It’s important to me.”

“I can imagine that. But——”

“Cecy can go.”

“Go where?” snapped Cecy, overhearing. “Are you making dates for me?”

“It’s all right, Cecy,” Carol explained in an aside. “Mrs. Becket is suddenly taken ill—or alarmed. Thalia is going over. You’ll go with her, won’t you—please?”

“Oh, I suppose so. Is it more—ghosts?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have a chance to find out.”

“Then I’ll go. But not until I’ve had tea. Here’s Dad coming back. We can eat together. Shall we tell him—all the news?”

“Not yet,” Carol decided. And she was glad of this decision when her father, at his tea, enthused over the prospect of the repainted and all but rebuilt car—which refurbishing might now be indefinitely postponed.

Both girls listened with somewhat guilty knowledge as he rambled on so happily. It might have been kinder to tell him at once about Carol’s loss of position. It seemed, now, little short of cruel to let him talk on so eagerly. But, having thus started, the matter had to run its course now.

It was almost half-past seven, the hour when Glenn was to call.

“But,” mused Carol, “what could have happened to Mrs. Becket?”

There was small time to wonder. She must go with Glenn. Cecy must accompany Thalia to Oak Lodge. What would she find there?

In their room, while both girls were getting ready to go out, Cecy was all excited about Mrs. Becket.

“It’s that old organ,” she insisted, exuding mystery in gobs of breath.

“Silly! What could be scary about that marvelous organ?”

“What couldn’t be? Stubby told me——”

“Cecy, you haven’t been talking to that horrid boy again!” Carol stopped pondering to ask.

“Carol, how quaint! Horrid boy. You sound like an old woman. Besides, what’s horrid about a boy that knows all the ghost stories of Melody Lane? I think he’s fascinating.” Cecy’s laugh belied that. She was agreeing secretly with Carol about that Stubby—the queer boy that worked for Mrs. Becket because she had to take him with the house, like the old black dog Rover, who never roved, so died conveniently. Stubby was not fascinating, except at a good, safe distance. He was ugly, unkempt, and hard to understand. Cecy herself had once caught him trying to tie a tin can to old Tommy’s tail. And Tommy was a good, quiet cat, if ever there was one.

“Please, Cecy, don’t be seen talking to that——”

“I won’t. But he told me the organ plays of ‘its ownself’! He says Mrs. Becket is so scared she stays up nights.”

“Now listen, Sis. I just beg of you not to go on that way with Thally. You know how stuff like that spreads around here. And Mrs. Becket is our best friend.”

“Don’t worry. I’m out to listen, not to talk,” and for once Carol felt she might depend upon some discretion from the flighty Cecy.

Then Glenn called. He didn’t honk outside, but dashed in, hatless and handsome, bringing a sweep of the pure outdoor air in along with him.

“I’ll be ready in a jiff.” Carol had only to pick up a few sheets of music. They might ask her to play.

“No hurry, we’ve got all our lives. How are you, Mr. Duncan?” The father had come into the living room.

He liked Glenn. When the boy asked that sort of personal question, he seemed interested in the answer. Most boys only listened to their own voices. So Mr. Duncan told Glenn about the car.

“Seems to me well worth the money,” he was saying, while Carol winced at the mention of money. “And we all enjoy the car. As a matter of fact, Carol needs it.” He seemed trying to justify the expense. Mr. Duncan certainly was good-looking. Black hair like Carol’s, with a wonderful “white wing” in the front like an actor’s. And his eyes still blue through his glasses. Clean shaven and of soldierly carriage, any daughter might well be proud of so fine a father. It was dreadful that he had had to lose his position, and now that so many fine men were going through the despond of the depression, Felix Duncan was no exception.

Finally Carol and Glenn got away. Cecy and Thalia had gone to Oak Lodge.

“I’m petrified,” Carol began as she and Glenn took the wide road out to Long Hill. “I’m just scared to death.”

“Hold on to me.”

“Glenn, I mean it. We’re in an awful jam.”

“Who isn’t?”

“Please be serious.”

“At your attention. Can I help, Carol?”

Instinctively she slipped down closer to Glenn. He was protective.

“I’ve lost my job. I’m going over to the Keystone to try there. I couldn’t tell you before Dad.”

“That’s tough, Carol. But if there’s a vacant chair or bench in front of that old Keystone organ, it’s yours.”

“Why so sure?”

“I know Mr. Cameron. He’s in Dad’s bank company. If you can’t charm him into giving you the job, I’ll threaten him. They say I look like my dad.”

“Honest, Glenn, do you know him?”

“Certain thing, and he isn’t so bad either. Rather pleasant. He gave Mother twenty-five smackers for her poor kids.”

“Glenn, I’m hopeful now. I was terribly sunk. You see, there’s Dad and Cecy.”

“I know. But you’ll pull out, Carol. My dad had to lay off three men today, and I’m going in the factory.”

“Oh, no, Glenn!” Carol’s voice.

“Why not? Am I so good? Saves Dad twenty-five a week. Not that I’m worth all that, but the other fellow had to get it.” They were rounding a curve with high banks on all sides and Glenn slowed down. The extra lights at the dangerous point flickered in the late September uncertainty. It was darker than it looked, Glenn had remarked, which was true if trite.

“There’s the glimmering Keystone. See if you can make out anything in my favor,” suggested Carol as they swung into the village centre.

“Sure I can. The lights. Carol dear, the lights are always in your favor,” which served to give them the green traffic signal, allowing them to speed on without further delay.

Glenn reminded Carol he was within reach if she needed influence with Mr. Cameron, the manager who was on the board of Glenn’s father’s bank.

“All right,” Carol told him with the rare smile which was sweeter for its wistfulness. “But I always like to try my own hand first.”

“Now, Carol,” he had secured her hand in a playful little grasp, “my hand’s pretty good too. You have no idea.”

“Haven’t I?” Which of course meant she had.

Then Glenn took up a waiting spot while Carol went to the small door marked private.

Just as Cecy had reminded her, the manager had remembered Mrs. Becket’s music festival the year before, and he was sure Carol would be satisfactory at the organ. Mr. Cameron was a quiet, pleasant little man, more like a country storekeeper than a movie manager. He was most agreeable, and Carol felt quite elated until he said, as if he was ashamed to say it:

“Trouble is, no patronage. Can’t tell when we’ll have to close up.”

“Oh, of course.” Carol fought back, in a surge of bitterness that this run of hard times seemed to spare no corners. “But no one can help that,” she said finally. “I’d be glad to go with you as far as you could go.”

“That’s fine.” Mr. Cameron answered. But he showed no enthusiasm, Carol wondered why.

“Do you have afternoon shows?” she asked hesitantly.

“That’s just it. We have only afternoon shows where the organ is used, and we have to take the sound music at night. Three afternoons weekly. I’m afraid, Miss Duncan, it will hardly pay you,” he faltered.

“Oh, but I’m glad to take anything,” she hurried to assure him, while her heart felt heavier. “You see, Father——”

“Yes, I know your father, Felix Duncan. A fine man. Pity the Standard Works couldn’t take him back after his illness. He knows more about that company than all those youngsters put together,” Mr. Cameron declared, warmly.

“You know Father? Yes, it was too bad he had to lose his place. It’s so hard to get a new one in these times.”

“Yes. But he’ll be taken back. I suppose these college boys in the owners’ families have to be put somewhere, and that’s right enough, too. But a man like Felix Duncan is going to be missed.” He paused for a moment as Carol bit a lip pulled into a defiant line. “But about your salary,” Mr. Cameron went on. “That is, if I can call it that,” and he smiled grimly. “I can’t promise more than twelve dollars a week.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Carol quickly gulped, her brain instantly at work upon the loss of the six dollars from the Silvertone. But this, at least, she must make sure of.

So it was arranged, and she had not needed Glenn’s kindly offered influence. Neither did she mention to Glenn, when she joined him, the small salary she had promised to take.

“I told you that you’d get it,” Glenn chuckled as she sat beside him.

“Yes, thanks.” Then she said, impulsively. “But the plucked car! How am I to get over here without it?”

“When will it be ready?”

“It’s the money I mean.”

“Oh,” mused Glenn. “Well, we might manage that quicker than the painting.”

“You’re kind, Glenn,” sighed Carol. “But— Oh, I don’t know! Why did Cecy pick such a time to turn in our car?”