The Widow in Black
“Linda, it’s come! My autogiro!” shrieked Ralph Clavering, bursting into
the Carltons’ bungalow, without even waiting to knock. “And I’ve had her
up already! The man gave me a lesson!”
Linda almost fell down the steps in her wild excitement at this piece of
news. Another autogiro in Green Falls! Her “Ladybug’s” twin!
“Wonderful! Great!” she cried, seizing both his hands and executing a
dance. “In plenty of time for the treasure hunt.”
“Yes. Don’t forget that you promised to go up with me this afternoon!”
“Try and keep me out!” she replied. “I just can’t wait. I don’t even
care about lunch, if you’ll just give me time to get into my flying
suit——”
“What’s this? What’s this?” demanded Miss Emily Carlton, entering the
living room with Amy at her heels. “You’re not going to go without your
lunch, Linda!”
“Then may we have ours right away?” pleaded her niece. “Ralph and I, I
mean?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Only do be careful, Linda, with a new plane. Are you
quite sure all the parts are there?”
Ralph smiled.
“The autogiro couldn’t have arrived safely, Miss Carlton, if it hadn’t
been perfect. You see they don’t deliver planes in trucks—they fly ’em!”
“All right, then,” agreed the older woman, grudgingly. “Then I’ll go and
see about lunch.”
It was a thrilling afternoon for Linda, and even more pleasant for
Ralph, in the possession of his first flying machine. Together they went
over to the airport and took the new autogiro into the skies, first with
Linda, then with Ralph at the controls. In the joy of flying Linda
forgot for the time being all about the queer experience of the
preceding day with Lord Dudley. She was Linda Carlton the aviatrix
to-day, interested in nothing but aviation.
She even forgot about Amy until she returned to the bungalow at
supper-time, and found the little girl waiting wistfully on the porch
all alone. Linda knew from her expression that no one had telephoned.
“Nobody cares about me except the newspaper reporters,” she remarked the
following day—the Friday before the treasure hunt—when still nothing had
happened, and no one had come to claim her. “And even they are beginning
to lose interest.”
“Not Mike O’Malley!” replied Linda, cheerfully. “I had a letter from him
to-day—he’s arriving this morning. He expects to drive that battered
Ford of his over to Lake Winnebago, to be in at the finish of the hunt.”
Amy sighed; she had not been included in the plans for the event,
although Miss Carlton had been invited for the week-end at the Inn. The
girl would have to be left in care of Anna, Miss Carlton’s competent
cook.
“I wish Mike would stay here with me,” said the girl. She didn’t add
that she would be lonely; it wouldn’t be grateful to these wonderful
people who were doing so much for her.
“Mike has work to do for his paper,” replied Linda.
Scarcely had she finished the sentence when the Ford stopped at the
gate, and the young man, sunburned and grinning, jumped out. He felt
almost as if he were coming home, to be back again at the Carltons’.
“Hello, everybody!” he cried merrily. “Here I am—all ready for the big
hunt!”
“It’s more than I am,” replied Linda. “I’ve got to spend the whole day
going over the ‘Ladybug.’ But come on in, Mike—I’ll get you something to
eat. Of course, you’re hungry?”
“You said it!”
“And as soon as you finish eating, you better take Amy swimming. Aunt
Emily went shopping, and I have to go to the airport, so I’ll be glad if
you can keep Amy from being lonely.”
“O.K. with me,” he agreed, following Linda into the dining room. “By the
way, Miss Carlton, any change in plans, or contestants, for the treasure
hunt?”
“Not that I know of,” she replied, as she hunted some buns and milk for
the boy, who ate hungrily, as usual.
Suddenly he stopped eating, and peering towards the living room,
listened intently.
“Do my ears deceive me, or is somebody snitching my Lizzie?” He jumped
up and ran to the living-room window.
“No, I think that’s the station taxicab,” replied Linda. “Its engine
sounds like a boiler factory.”
“Almost as loud as an airplane’s!” teased Mike.
“Who is it, Linda? Who is that getting out of the cab?” demanded Amy
holding the other girl’s arm tensely. “Do you know her?”
“No,” replied Linda, as she watched a woman in black who was coming up
the porch steps. “She’s a stranger to me—oh—maybe—Amy, do you remember
her?” She peered anxiously into the younger girl’s face.
The latter shook her head sorrowfully.
“No, I don’t. Not a glimmer—not even a vague memory, like I had when I
saw that man at the tennis matches.”
“What man?”
“Lord Somebody——”
“Oh! Lord Dudley. But you saw him afterwards. He was here——”
“No, I never happened to be around. And I couldn’t remember anything
about him anyway. But I feel positive I never saw this woman.”
The girls were standing close together, Amy still clinging to Linda’s
arm, when Mike opened the screen door to the stranger’s knock.
The woman hesitated a moment, and stepped inside, looking quickly about
the room. With a bright smile of recognition, she came over to Amy.
“Helen darling!” she exclaimed, pushing Linda aside and kissing Amy
gushingly. “Oh, I’m so thankful to have you safe!”
Tears came to Amy’s eyes, but she could not pretend that she remembered
the woman.
“Who—are you?” she stammered.
The woman looked shocked.
“Helen! Can’t you remember me? I am your Aunt Elsie—I’ve cared for you
ever since your mother died. Oh, surely, dear—” She looked helplessly at
Linda.
“Helen—we call her ‘Amy’—has lost her memory,” explained the latter.
“You see she was hit on the back of the head by a car. But surely you
read about it in the papers?”
“Yes, yes. But I thought that she would recognize me,” wailed the woman
hysterically, wiping tears from her eyes. “She disappeared about two
weeks ago—we live in a little town in Montana—and I was almost crazy
with fear. Then I read about this girl being hit by something—it was an
airplane, wasn’t it?—and I came on to Grand Rapids, and a newspaper man
there showed me the picture.”
Mike swelled with pride. That must have been his newspaper!
“It was a car she was hit by,” corrected Linda. “An airplane rescued
her.”
“You don’t say!” exclaimed the woman. “I heard it the other way about.
Well, we’ll prove that later. Now, come along, Helen.”
But anxious as the girl had been for people of her own to claim her, now
that this stranger had done so, she was afraid to go. She did not like
the woman.
“What is my other name?” she questioned, without making any move to obey
her.
“Tower—Helen Tower. I am Mrs. Fishberry. Can’t you possibly remember,
dear?”
The girl shook her head.
“Couldn’t I stay here a little longer—Mrs. Fishberry?” she asked.
“Certainly not.” The woman looked annoyed.
Amy clung to Linda, her whole frame shaking violently.
“She must have been unkind to me before,” she sobbed. “You know I felt
that there was something to be afraid of in my past life. Oh, Linda,
please keep me till that doctor who is treating me can make me well!
I’ll work and repay all you do for me!”
“Of course, we’ll be glad to, Amy, dear,” replied Linda, reassuringly.
“Just so long as you’re content to stay!”
“That is impossible,” interrupted Mrs. Fishberry. “I cannot allow it for
a minute, and will bring legal proceedings if you try to steal this
child! Come, Helen—the taxi’s waited long enough!”
Reluctantly Amy started to obey, when Mike O’Malley stepped forward and
held up his hand like a traffic cop.
“Just a minute! Just a minute!” he said.
All eyes turned towards him instantly.
“You spoke of legal proceedings, Mrs. Fishmarket, or whatever your name
is—what legal proofs have you that the girl belongs to you?”
The woman winced in surprise, and Amy and Linda looked at Mike with
admiration. How clever of him to think of that!
The stranger drew herself up haughtily.
“I confess I did not bring legal proofs,” she said. “I thought that
after sacrificing the best years of my life to bringing up Helen, that
she would know me, and want to come to me. But it seems that I cannot
expect love or gratitude.”
“Well, you can’t expect us to turn her over to a person she dislikes,
unless that person has a right to her,” returned Linda.
“Very well,” concluded the other. “I’ll go. But I’ll be back with the
proofs. And you are going to be sorry for your insolence, Miss Linda
Carlton!”
With this final remark, she turned and left the house.
“Whew!” exclaimed Mike, wiping his forehead. “She’s a hot one. But I
think there’s something fishy about her, besides her name. I don’t
believe she’s your aunt at all, Helen.”
“Don’t call me that!” pleaded the girl. “That name means nothing to me,
and I am used to being called ‘Amy’ now.”
“All right, dear,” agreed Linda. “Now don’t think any more about it.
You’ll be my adopted sister, for as long as you like—” She turned to the
boy, “Mike, you are a bright man—I certainly am thankful we had you
here!”
The young man blushed vividly over his freckles, and suggested that they
go on with their swim as they had planned.
Drying her eyes, Amy ran off to get into her suit, but Linda remained
some minutes where she was, thinking. It was queer—terribly queer. The
woman was so unlike Amy, so different a type, so common—so really
vulgar. Yet Amy was one of the sweetest, most refined little girls Linda
had ever met; she might almost have been brought up by her own Aunt
Emily, from the training she showed. Yet if the woman weren’t a relation
what could she possibly want with Amy? The child was obviously poor;
what could be the reason, unless it were love?
Linda sighed; the problem was too much for her. So, as she often did
with other difficulties, she put it aside while she flung herself
wholeheartedly into the inspection of her autogiro.
Dressed in overalls, and covered with grease, but satisfied that her
afternoon’s work had been worthwhile, she returned to the house just in
time for supper. She parked her roadster in the garage and dashed into
the house, hoping to be able to get to her own room to dress before
anyone saw her. But she was unsuccessful; Harriman Smith was waiting for
her in the living room.
“Hello, Harry!” she exclaimed, laughing. “Don’t look at me! I’m a sight.
But if you’ll just give me fifteen minutes——”
“You look fine, Linda!” protested the boy, thinking that her blue
overalls were becoming and that her hair was all the more attractive
when it blew around her face. “You see,” he continued, talking rapidly,
“I’m in a hurry. I’m here because I have bad news—at least bad for me,
though it will be good news for some other lucky fellow. I have to go
back to work to-night, and that means I can’t go in the treasure hunt
with you to-morrow.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Harry!” she exclaimed, with genuine regret.
“Another fellow in the company got sick, and so they just had to recall
me,” he explained. “I shouldn’t have cared so much if it had happened
Monday, but I was looking forward to this affair a great deal.”
“I’m awfully disappointed, too,” said Linda, wondering whether she would
go alone or ask somebody else.
“Thanks, Linda—I really appreciate that. When there is a whole stag line
just dying for the honor— But Linda, may I ask a favor?”
“Why, yes, certainly, Harry.”
“Don’t take Lord What’s-his-name in my place. Anybody but him!”
“Why?” asked Linda in surprise, not that she had the slightest idea of
doing any such thing, but because she wanted to know Harry’s reason.
Unlike Ralph Clavering, Harriman Smith never stooped to petty jealousy.
“Well—I want to be fair, but—there’s something slimy about that man.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, he’s too smooth. None of us fellows like him. It’s not because he’s
an Englishman—I’ve known several of them, and thought them O.K.,
but—well—he just doesn’t click with me. So will you take somebody else?”
Linda smiled.
“I wouldn’t take Lord Dudley anyway, Harry, because he has gone away,”
she replied. “But I really think you’re unfair about him. It’s because
he’s a lot older than all you boys that he seems so different. He’s
halfway between us and our parents. That sort of makes him a different
generation.”
“You do like him, don’t you, Linda?” persisted the young man, keeping
his eyes fastened on her, fearing her answer.
Linda shrugged her shoulders.
“You needn’t worry, Harry,” she said. She was silent a moment, thinking
of something different. “I know what I’ll do!” she cried. “I’ll take Amy
with me!”
“Amy!”
“Yes. The kid is crazy about planes. She’s afraid of a lot of things,
like the water, and the dark, and a strange woman who came here to-day,
but she adores flying. And she hates to be left alone.”
“Well, that’s O.K. with me!” exclaimed Harry, with a sigh of relief. It
was better than he had expected. “Now I must say good-by, Linda. I just
have time to get supper and catch my train.”
Linda hurried into her bath as soon as the young man left, and in half
an hour she was ready for supper, when she told Amy her good fortune
about being included in the hunt. The girl was so delighted that she
almost forgot the unpleasant experience of the morning. But Miss
Carlton, who had listened gravely to the story when she returned from
her shopping trip, was worried.