JOSIE GETS A RIDE
Josie made herself so useful to Mrs. Stark, the head nurse, that in a
few days time she was high in that person's favor. Poor Mrs. Waller was
so cheered by the news brought to her that she became much more
tractable and less trouble to Dr. Harper and he, too, was grateful to
Josie for this change that had been wrought in one of the patients.
"The girl has a cheerful way with her that makes all the poor souls
less miserable," Mrs. Stark told the doctor. "She is trustworthy too. I
do hope we can keep her. She is not at all above doing maid's work. In
fact, she asked to be allowed to take care of some of the rooms when
she found we were short of servants. She is quick and orderly."
Of course Josie saw to it that Mrs. Waller's room was one to be cleaned
by her. It gave her opportunity to talk to the poor lady in private and
many times must she tell everything she could recall concerning Polly
and Peter. Josie produced the photograph of Stephen Waller and the
children and it proved a great comfort to the wife and mother. She had
not been allowed to bring from home a single thing to remind her of her
loved ones.
Josie had an afternoon off. She was anxious to inquire for mail at the
hotel. Also to get some things from the suitcase she had left in her
room. She had heard from Mary Louise, who reported all well at Dorfield
and the Children's Home Society as flourishing. Polly and Peter were
more and more beloved by all. There was a growing demand to adopt them
but dear old Dr. Weston had refused to give them up, hoping for better
things for them. The Higgledy-Piggledy Shop was flourishing in spite of
the absence of a valued partner.
The sanitarium was situated about half a mile from the village. It was
a pleasant walk in good weather, but on Josie's afternoon off it had
set in for a cold spring drizzle, disagreeable enough to dampen the
ardor of anybody but Josie O'Gorman, who scorned the excuse of dreary
weather for the doleful dumps. Well protected with rubbers and
raincoat, the girl paddled along the muddy road, busily going over in
her mind a plan of action. She realized she must get from Mrs. Waller
letters to her friends in Atlanta and they must be fully informed of
the injustice that was being done her and take legal action for her
release from this durance vile to which she had been subjected. Those
friends, of course, had been told by Chester Hunt that she was crazy.
They had taken his honesty for granted and had been hoodwinked by his
seeming distress over the condition of his brother's wife. The question
was, how soon must she leave the sanitarium and how proceed?
Josie's instinct was to go to Dorfield and there get help from Mr.
Peter Conant and Chief Charlie Lonsdale. On the other hand, she did not
want to leave the sanitarium until after Chester Hunt's promised visit
to that institution. She found several letters awaiting her at the
hotel. The host welcomed her cordially. Of course it was not a very
regular thing to have an unattached, mysterious young woman engage the
best room in the house, the one known as the bridal chamber, and then
not occupy it but go cavorting over the county on some kind of unknown
business, blowing in to the hotel occasionally for mail and inquiring
eagerly for telegrams, but business was business and it was profitable
to rent the best room with bath and then not have it occupied--no wear
and tear on it at all, no change of linen or cry for soap and towels.
Josie realized it was an extravagance but she had a feeling she might
need that room soon and need it badly and this was no time to be small
about money. She took from the suitcase the two porridge bowls,
determined to pretend to Mrs. Stark that she had bought them as a
present for Mrs. Waller, feeling that they might be a comfort to the
mother.
As she tramped back to the sanitarium, rather enjoying paddling through
the puddles and feeling the cold rain on her face, she heard the sound
of a motor. She stepped aside to let the army truck pass, but it slowed
up and stopped beside her. There was nobody but the chauffeur in the
car. He leaned from his seat and spoke to her in a gentle voice, with
an accent unmistakably southern with a soft slurring of the final g and
an almost imperceptible r--too subtle to be pronounced a dialect but
still decided enough to place the man below the Mason and Dixon line.
"I believe I am going your way and I shall be very glad to take you to
your destination," he said, saluting her. "It is a bad day to be
walking."
Josie was sorry to have her walk cut short but the man's courtesy was
not to be gainsaid. She climbed up on the seat by him, thanking him
frankly. She had seen him before, where, she could not remember.
"Are you in the army?" she asked.
"I suppose so," he answered whimsically.
"They tell me I am, but I can't remember ever getting in it. I can't
remember anything, in fact. I remember how to read and how to speak
French and some German and whenever I get hold of a book I have read
before the plot comes back to me if it happens to be a novel, but my
past life is a blank. If I could get some inkling of it I believe it
would come back like the plot of the novels. I am as well as can be
physically and the alienists say I am as sane as anyone, but I might
have been born yesterday, for all I know of my life before I became
conscious in a vile German prison camp.
"But I wonder why I tell you all this! It seems hardly fair to pick up
a young lady on the road and take advantage of her helplessness to pour
in her ear my own troubles."
"Oh, please, tell me! I am very much interested. Do you never have any
remembrance of your former existence? Do not odors or sounds or sights
bring some vague impression of yesterday?"
"Why--yes! Violets seem to mean more to me than other flowers. Why, I
don't know--but I have a feeling that someone I must have loved and who
loved me is in trouble. I can't get rid of the feeling. But if it is
so--if anyone does love me why doesn't he or she find me? I'm here--not
really lost. If I only could get some clue--a name--an address--
something, anything on which to build."
He turned and looked at Josie. She met his gaze with a long wondering
look.
"Stop the car, please, for a moment," she asked. He obeyed immediately.
"Mr. Waller," she said gently, "Don't you remember these little
porridge bowls?"
She tore the wrappings from the bowls, disclosing the rabbits and the
chickens. The man took them in his hands reverently. His lips pressed
together to form the letter P.
"Yes," said Josie, "Polly and Peter! You lived in Atlanta on Peachtree
Street. Your wife is Mary and your name is Stephen. You enlisted in the
United States Army at the first call to arms. Your wife is well and so
are your children."
"Mary! Mary!" he cried, and clasping the porridge bowls to his heart he
wept--great sobs shaking his frame.
When he could control himself he begged Josie to tell him more.
"Everything is coming back to me in leaps and bounds. It is just like
the plots of the novels that I have read before. Now we must go and
report to the Colonel. The funny thing is I remember now that I am a
captain. At least I was. Perhaps I am dead in the eyes of the army. I
reckon I was reported missing in action."
"Your wife believes you are alive." Then Josie must tell the poor man
of all the trials his wife had undergone and of the perfidy of Chester
Hunt. She did it in as few words as possible. He was deeply moved at
the story of her sufferings.
"To think of her being so close to me all the time! Once I thought I
heard someone calling me. I couldn't catch the name but there was a
tone of voice that rang in my ears for days and days. It was while I
was driving the truck, and bless me if it wasn't going along that road
that leads near that sanitarium. I must report to the Colonel first and
then I can go get my wife."
"Dr Harper may make some trouble, as his rule is not to let a patient
out until the person who is responsible for her being there comes to
remove her."
"We'll see about that," and his jaws snapped together much to Josie's
admiration. She had great respect for a firm jaw.
"I am leaving my job now, as there is no use in my staying longer in
the employ of the oily Dr. Harper. Perhaps I can help you. It is a pity
for dear Mrs. Waller to spend another moment in this place where she
has been so miserable. It would take some time for Mr. Hunt to reach
here from Atlanta. When he comes he may make trouble about identifying
you. He is so determined that you are dead, but I shall let your wife
go into details concerning what that man hopes to gain by your death."
The Colonel was accessible and as delighted at the restoration of
Stephen Waller's memory as Josie herself. Indefinite leave was given
him and the Colonel advanced enough money from his own private funds to
enable him to travel comfortably with his wife.