SHARING JOY
Mrs. Lee sometimes detected a wistful look on Betty’s face, as if she
had found out some of the world’s disappointments. There was some little
problem in friendship, perhaps, or something about school relations that
annoyed her, or she was merely having too much on hand. But for the most
part Betty was in good spirits at home and with delightful spring
weather she was outdoors with the rest of her friends. She saw a great
deal of Lucia Coletti when they had their riding together. Betty’s
riding, with all her late instruction, was quite good. She had learned
proper posture and all the details necessary to make a good horsewoman.
Not at all nervous about horses, she was good material.
“You will be proud of me yet, Mother,” she said, “when some time you see
your little Betty take a prize at the Horse Show!”
“Mercy on us! You haven’t that ambition, have you!”
“You never can tell, Mother, what may develop.”
“No—I think by this time that you are right!”
But this was by way of badinage. Betty’s only ambition was to be a good
rider.
And so it happened that one afternoon after school Lucia and several
other girls were with Betty upon the pretty bridle paths that their
teacher frequented. As they slowly walked their horses together, upon a
wider road toward the end of their ride, Lucia drew her horse beside
Betty’s and said, “I forgot to tell you that we’ve had great excitement
at our house. Well, I didn’t want to worry you and I was so late getting
here today.”
“Worry? Then it isn’t a pleasant excitement? Nothing the matter with the
count and countess, I hope.”
“Oh, no! They mail me a card almost every day and they are having the
most marvelous time. It’s the Sevillas. An immense legal envelope came
from somewhere, Auntie said, and that seemed to upset Rose a good deal;
and then a letter came, all scribbled on and forwarded, and I wondered
if it could be from Ramon. But no, it could not have been, Auntie said,
because that seemed to be worse than ever. It all looks bad, that no one
has heard from Ramon.
“Rose came to her, looking so troubled and said that she was afraid they
would have to go away. So I went and talked to Rose. This was yesterday
afternoon. She said that it was some one different but just as bad as
the original villain we know about and that he threatened all sorts of
things to her mother if she didn’t produce the jewels, and I don’t know
what else.”
“Why, how _could_ she when she hasn’t them? Oh, do you _suppose_, Lucia,
that Ramon has gotten them away from that man? There might be a gang of
them, you know!”
“Yes, there might. I hadn’t thought of that. I’m going to telephone for
the car to come after me. Suppose you call up home and tell your mother
that you want to go home with me. You haven’t been to dinner for ages.
Or we can just drive around there. That would be better. Then you can
get your books and stay all night with me. I don’t know what on earth
Auntie will do without Rose now, and besides, they are safer there than
anywhere they could go. I told Rose so. I wondered if I ought not to
tell her at once about Ramon, but I’d promised. I wanted to ask you
about that, but you were flying about everywhere and I was late getting
to lunch because I had to stop at the office and wasted ten perfectly
good lunchtime minutes, precious as they are, in a necessary confab.”
“Did you have to drink a bottle of milk and swallow a sandwich whole?”
“Almost!”
The plan was carried out. Fortunately, there was nothing but lessons
ahead for that evening. The matter of telling Rose and Mrs. Sevilla was
discussed between the girls on the way. Betty thought that it should be
done, disregarding Ramon’s request. Something might have happened to
him, that was true, but Betty said that Mrs. Sevilla “had a right to the
facts” as far as the girls knew them.
“Shall I decide to do it, then?” asked Lucia.
“I wouldn’t hesitate a minute,” replied Betty.
“Then you tell Rose all about it, please, Betty. I’ll call her into my
room after dinner and we’ll have the whole thing out!”
“Agreed,” said Betty, immediately engrossed in thought as to how she
should break the good news to Rose.
The Murchison home was arrayed in fresh spring draperies and Betty
thought she never had seen it look so pretty. Rose, sober, and giving
Betty only a half smile, as the girls entered the dining-room to find
her, was arranging some flowers on the buffet. She answered Betty’s
“Good afternoon, Rose,” but started to leave the room at once.
“Just a minute, Rose,” said Lucia. “I know you are busy now, but after
dinner, as soon as you can, please come to my room. There is something
that Betty knows about and it may cheer you up a little. She thinks so,
anyhow.”
“I will come, Miss Lucia.” Rose was always respectful to those who
employed her, but she had considerable dignity of manner herself and one
saw that there was none of the servility of an inferior.
Dinner was quiet. Mr. Murchison telephoned about five o’clock that he
was having dinner with some men at a club, to talk over important
affairs. He would be “home early,” however. So reported the butler, who
had answered the telephone.
“That may mean early in the evening, or early in the morning, if those
men are discussing what I think,” said Mrs. Murchison. But that meant
little to Betty. Possibly her father was to be present at the conference
which would follow the dinner, or he might be with them at dinner. If
Mr. Murchison had come home early and to dinner, however, it would have
made a little difference to Rose, and Betty might have missed some
interesting information.
She enjoyed the dinner and liked “the new Mrs. Murchison” more than
ever. Immediately afterward several friends came in to visit with Mrs.
Murchison and the girls shortly retired to Lucia’s pretty room. “Don’t
worry, Betty, over how to tell Rose,” Lucia suggested, noting Betty’s
thoughtfulness. “You always do things nicely and sometimes, if you are
like me, I can do it better if I don’t think up how beforehand and then
stammer around trying to think how I _had_ thought it up! Let’s get at
the lessons and get ahead, so if it takes some time with Rose, we can
still get along.”
“Lucia, the wise one,” laughed Betty. They began on their lessons and
were studying away, almost forgetting about Rose and her troubles till a
light knock on the door roused them.
Rose, her large dark eyes serious, came in and took the chair indicated
by Lucia. “We think that you ought to know something, Rose, that Ramon
did not want us to tell you, but I’m sure that you will be glad to be
told and you can use your own judgment about telling your mother. Betty
is going to tell you all about it.”
Rose turned frightened eyes on Betty, who hastened to speak. “Oh, don’t
be scared about it, Rose. Part of it is good news. We saw Ramon in Maine
this summer.”
Betty did not have a chance to continue, for Rose exclaimed something in
Spanish, then—“saw my Ramon in Maine and never told us about it?”
“He _asked_ us not to tell, Rose.” Betty paused, to let Rose get this
point.
Rose’s expression changed now. “Excuse me. I should know—some good
reason.”
“No, I don’t think that it was a good idea of Ramon’s at all. It was all
right to keep it from your mother, but you should have known at once. It
was only because he was going after that old villain that he was afraid
you would worry.”
Rose nodded, then smiled a little. “It is not the first time. Ramon went
after—‘villains’ before—much trouble came.”
“I can imagine,” said Betty, recalling Ramon’s intensity and his sudden
leaving. But this gave Betty an easy opening to tell the events of the
summer before in which Ramon had a part. Rose sat, intent, tense, a
frown on her brow, her eyes glowing.
When Betty was all through, undisturbed by a single question from Rose,
for Betty was good at describing scenes and events, Rose sighed, relaxed
somewhat and said, “That explains a little, perhaps. I will not tell my
mother yet. May God preserve my Ramon! I think he has. If you would like
to see what we had by the mail, I will bring it.” In answer to Lucia’s
nod of assent and expression of interest, Rose left the room, returning
presently with the long envelope, which Lucia had mentioned to Betty,
and the other letter as well.
While Rose was out, Lucia’s comment to Betty was that both mother and
daughter were “rather excitable. Rose has had to learn to control
herself, but the mother, though she is so dignified most of the time,
goes all to pieces over some things.”
Rose was evidently in good command of herself as she showed the girls a
legal document of some sort, though probably a forgery, as all the three
thought. It was a summons to appear in a court at some place of which
the girls had never heard. Rose thought that it was near Chicago.
The letter was threatening, as Lucia had said. Rose gave them only the
gist of it, and she had the same idea as Betty’s first thought. “I think
that perhaps my Ramon has gotten the jewels back again and they think
that he has sent them to us. But how—have they made him tell where we
are?”
That was a thought not so pleasant. Rose’s brows contracted again as she
thought of Ramon in their hands.
“I can’t believe that they have got him! He was going to get the jewels
and the papers that they tried to get him to sign; and while Ramon does
very risky things, he will be more careful this time, especially since
he knows that he has practically found you and your mother!” So Betty
said, rather explosively.
Rose then gave the girls a brief account of how this had come about. As
every one knew, there had been many revolutionary activities in Spain.
Her father, loyal to the crown, had been caught in a plot. “They call it
‘framed’ in this country,” said Rose. “Men deceived him. He was put in
prison. He was sick and died. They came to steal our jewels and money
and papers and took Ramon away—these men, I mean, not the government,
though they _told_ us so. We followed Ramon, and the plot was to get us
away from the country, too. We spoke no English and were in a strange
country. This bad man pretended to be kind and help us find Ramon. At
last we found him out. He was, from what you tell me, writing lies to
Ramon about where we were and trying to get Ramon to send money and the
jewels that Ramon had finally gotten—to send them to us. Then he would
take them away from us, of course. It would take too long to tell just
how he did all this. But such terrible things can be done and no one
knew us. We were afraid to do anything until we had found Ramon. Then we
thought Ramon must be dead—until you told us! Never will I forget!”
Rose put her head in her hands and her shoulders lifted from the sobs
she was trying to suppress.
Betty was thinking to herself, “_Can_ such things happen in the United
States?” But then she had thought that last summer, too.
Then they heard the doorbell ring and it seemed to rouse Rose from her
tears that she was trying to wipe away, though more would fall.
“Well, anyhow, Rose,” said Betty, “stay right here, where we know all
about you. This is just some more wicked work. Don’t even answer, and
put that paper in Mr. Murchison’s hands!”
But there was a tap on Lucia’s door and Rose jumped to her feet,
thinking that she might be wanted. She was, indeed, but not for any
household duty.
It was Mr. Murchison who stood there, rather shamefacedly holding out
two letters. “Rose, I came home early after all, and till this minute I
forgot to give you a letter which came addressed to my office today.
It’s from Spain, too! I never thought of it till this special delivery
letter came this minute, also for you, I think. Don’t worry, Rose, if it
is bad news. Mrs. Murchison has been telling me of your new troubles.
Just let me handle this for you.”
But Rose had gotten a look at the address upon the letters. Although
Betty was not taking Spanish, nor did she belong to the “Spanish Club”
at school, as Lucia did, she probably understood as well the meaning of
the Spanish phrase in which Rose thanked God, fervently, tears again
beginning to fall, but not tears of grief.
“Ramon, _Ramon_,” she said softly. “Mr. Murchison, both these letters
are from my brother!”
“And that one was on my desk almost all day, till I rushed off to dinner
with my friends and thought to tuck it in my pocket!”
Rose’s hands were shaking. “Sit right down this minute, Rose,” said
Lucia, “and read enough to find out where Ramon is. Uncle says that one
is from Spain!” Mr. Murchison himself was already gone.
The girls stepped into the bedroom which Betty always occupied, to allow
Rose the privilege of reading her letter alone. “There were all sorts of
things on that letter from abroad,” said Betty. “I think it may have
been sent to the wrong place and forwarded. The special delivery means
that he is either here in this country or has sent on a letter to some
one to have mailed.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” said Lucia. “I’ll not be surprised to see the Don
walking in at any time.”
“Please come in and let me tell you,” gently said Rose, appearing in the
door. The two girls joined her. “I must take these to my mother,” said
Rose, folding her hands over the precious letters. “I would let you read
them but they are in my language. Ramon has been to Spain. He has seen
the king himself. He has proved to him that our father had no part in a
plot. He even visited our old home and found letters and papers that we
had hidden there. Those he showed to the king. By the grace of God he
believed, and it will be safe for us to go home! Oh, I can not tell you
what it means! Ramon has found the jewels and the papers he wanted on
that little boat, which he followed after they had fixed it up. He put
them in a safe place and though he was almost taken again by these bad
men that are here, he got away, sailed, and they are waiting for us in
Spain with our other property, unless he has thought it safe to bring
back and sell here, some of them.
“This was in the letter from Spain. The quick letter here says that he
has sailed right away after writing, for a great nobleman there made him
a loan and he is to come for us very soon. We are to be ready and I must
prepare my mother to see him.”
“Do it, Rose,” said Lucia. “Thank you for telling us. I’ll let Auntie
know about it at once, or as soon as her guests go. So you and your
mother can be glad all by yourselves.”
“How nicely Rose talks the English since she has been going to night
school,” admiringly Betty commented. “She made that as clear as could be
to us. It’s as romantic as a novel, only there isn’t any love story in
it.”
“Who knows?” asked Lucia. “Rose may have some lover somewhere.”
“Oh, I’m so _glad_!” cried Betty. “The Don’s troubles worried me from
the start. Now it is all explained and when he once comes, their
troubles will be over. Did you notice what Rose called the special
delivery letter?”
“No.”
“‘The _quick_ letter!’”