AN ALLY
AUNT ELSIE had become a woman of affairs; on the day following the
“miracle,” while the family were adjusting themselves anew to the
delights of the home which so nearly went from them, she stayed
in her room writing a letter of some length, the details of which she
went over most carefully. When it was finished, she made a journey
to the kitchen and pared apples for the little maid, while she, most
happy to serve her helper, sped with the letter to the nearest
post-box. On the Friday following, Aunt Elsie interviewed Kendall
Forsythe, while he waited in the little reception room for Ray,
who was going out with him for the evening. Long before this, Kendall
had adopted her; she was “Aunt Elsie” to him as entirely as she was
to Ray; although, owing to his busy life and home responsibilities,
they saw but little of each other.
“Is nobody here?” she asked, looking carefully down the room. “What a
piece of good fortune! I wanted to see you alone to ask a favor.”
“Of me? How delightful! Please consider it granted if it comes within
my limited powers.”
“That wasn’t the way I ought to have begun; I meant first to discover
whether you ever had any daytime to bestow on commonplace people
who have nothing to do with regular business.”
“Occasionally I do,” he said, genially. “For instance, to-morrow
afternoon I happen to have some unoccupied hours, and I have just
been bemoaning the sadness of my fate that they should fall on a day
when Ray is especially occupied every minute. Can I use them in your
service? If so, command me.”
“That depends; I wonder if you have enough courage to take care of an
old woman with a crutch, who has to be helped in and out of street
cars and up and down steps, and is a nuisance generally?”
“Try me,” he said, gayly. “My mother considers me a very careful
escort, and I should like exceedingly to give you a proof of her
excellent judgment.”
“Then I will confess that I have a childish desire to go on a secret
expedition. I’ve heard so much about the house where Jean and Derrick
were born that I want to see it with my own eyes. They say it is
vacant and for sale, so one could get permission to look at it;
Ray has told me a good deal about the rose gardens and the outlook
from her room; I just want to see it all, myself; but I can’t ask
my brother, or even the girls, to take me out there, because, besides
seeming foolish, it would be hard on them.”
Her amused listener hastened to assure her that it would be
a pleasure to him to take her through the fine old place, and the
views, especially from the east and west windows, were worth seeing;
they would go to-morrow.
“But how could we manage it, I wonder?” she said, with the eagerness
of a child. “I can’t tell you how careful they all are not to talk
about that place to one another; even Derrick and Jean, who were too
young when they left it to have much personal recollection, hardly
ever speak of it before the others, because they do not want
to recall old times to them. It seems my brother had planned that the
place should at some time be given to Ray, and it makes it especially
hard on that account. I should feel real mean to seem to be going
there just out of idle curiosity.”
“I understand,” he said. “We must manage it; let me think. How would
you like to take a trip to the park to view the new Lincoln Monument?
That is in the same general direction, and it is quite a fad just now
to ride out there to see the statue.”
She had only time to assure him that she would be delighted, and to
receive his promise to attend himself to all the details, when Ray
came flying down stairs, with apologies for delays.
The house was mildly excited, next day, by the departure of
Aunt Elsie on a sightseeing expedition, escorted by Kendall Forsythe.
They made a noticeable couple; Mr. Forsythe, who had descended from a
long line of ancestors belonging to the privileged and cultured
class, and who, to all outward appearances, belonged himself to the
fashionable world, accompanied by Aunt Elsie, in her severely plain
and unmistakably not tailor-made suit. She might, however, have
passed very well for a favorite servant grown old in the employ
of his family.
Florence Forman looked after them, with a frown of annoyance on her
pretty face as she said: “Aunt Elsie ought to have a new suit; that
queer woman who lived near them and made all her clothes because she
needed the work did not know how to fit a coat any more than I do!
and Kendall is such a gentleman! Mother, do you suppose she has left
herself money enough for clothes?”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Forman said. “She assured your father that she had
plenty for all her needs; although it must be confessed that her idea
of what she needs might differ from yours; but I wouldn’t worry about
the set of her coat to-day; Kendall is a gentleman in every respect.”
Ray, who was just starting out to her afternoon pupils, was troubled
from a different standpoint:
“Doesn’t it seem almost pitiful that Aunt Elsie had to appeal
to Kendall for her little outing? I confess it has never occurred
to me that she might like to go through the business streets and out
to the park; I wonder if we are all selfishly busy with our own
affairs; we younger ones, I mean,” she made haste to add.
“Don’t worry,” said Jean, the cheerful; “Kendall can do it lots
better than we could; he’ll give her a good time.”
But it was Aunt Elsie who took the initiative, and gave her escort
surprises. She was thoroughly interested in all the sights she saw
and sounds she heard; she examined the new statue critically, and
compared the features with those in the best prints she had seen; and
she remarked that she was glad the man was made of bronze and did not
mind standing there forever to be gazed at. Then she asked if Henry
Westlake’s office wasn’t somewhere near this park entrance. She would
like very much to stop at his office for a minute, if Kendall didn’t
mind. She used to know Henry when he was a boy and came to the farm
for the week-end; and she hadn’t seen him since.
Kendall was a trifle embarrassed; he knew Henry Westlake, certainly;
at least by reputation; he was a very great lawyer, perhaps the
greatest one in the city, and a man of remarkable ability in other
than legal matters; his opinion was very much sought after
by business men, even when no legal question was involved. So, of
course, he was a very busy man; Mr. Forsythe doubted if he was ever
seen in business hours, except by special appointment.
“Perhaps not,” Aunt Elsie said, serenely, “but it would do no harm
to try, would it?” Whereupon Mr. Forsythe resolved at all hazards
to try. The youth who received them in the great man’s outer office
was patronizing.
“Appointment, I suppose?” he said, inquiringly, to Mr. Forsythe,
who looked at Aunt Elsie.
“Oh, no,” she said, “no appointment; I just want to see him a minute,
if I can.” Then the clerk smiled a very wise smile and volunteered
that his chief was extremely busy, even more so than usual, as a very
important case was called for the next day.
“Very well,” said Aunt Elsie, cheerfully; “Just ask him if he can see
me, will you? If he can’t, no harm will be done.” Whereupon the
amused clerk coughed to conceal a laugh.
“Cards?” he questioned of Mr. Forsythe, who was aware that at least
two of the half-dozen clerks at work beyond the alcove had stopped
their pens to gaze and listen. Aunt Elsie answered:
“No, I haven’t any cards; I don’t make calls, as a rule. Kendall,
have you a bit of paper that I could write my name on?” And that
young man, too thoroughly the gentleman to show outward discomposure,
yet conscious of feeling that it would be a relief to kick the now
grinning youth down the outside stairs, offered the reverse side of
his business card to Aunt Elsie who wrote her name and address in a
bold, firm hand. Had they followed the grinning youth to the presence
of his chief they would have found him grave and respectful.
“I beg pardon, sir,” he said, speaking as one who knew he must not
waste time. “A persistent old woman from the country insisted on my
bringing in her name; I told her it was useless, but—”
He had not time for more. The busy man glared at the intruder
from under heavy eyebrows, glanced at the name on the card and
exploded his surprising order: “Show Miss Forman in immediately.”
“I won’t hinder you but a minute, Kendall,” Aunt Elsie said, as she
limped away to obey the summons; but it was many minutes before she
reappeared; so many indeed, that her perplexed escort had time
to imagine all sorts of uncomfortable situations, among them the
possibility that Aunt Elsie, in her ignorance of business had made
a serious mistake, and the amazing eight-thousand-dollar check was
involving her and the Formans in more trouble; perhaps Mr. Westlake
had written to her about it, and she had determined to see him
in person. But when she at last appeared her composed manner was
reassuring, though all she said was: “I’ve tried your patience,
I’m afraid; he kept me longer than I had any idea he would.” And when
they were at last beyond the gaze of the now thoroughly puzzled clerk
she had only this to add: “Henry looks older than a man of his age
ought to; I’m afraid he is working too hard, and for this world
only.”
She was as eager as a child about going over the fine old house on
Dupont Circle; limping bravely up and down stairs and peeping into
every nook and corner. She was much more at home in the house than
was Kendall, although he had been a guest there in his childhood.
“This is Ray’s room,” she said, seating herself comfortably on the
wide window seat. “I don’t wonder that they talk yet about the view!
It is fine, isn’t it? She likes this room better than any she ever
had, and one can see why; it is like her, some way. Down there is the
rose garden she told me about; it needs a lot of work done in it.
She loves to work over flowers, doesn’t she?”
“I think so,” Kendall said, absent-mindedly; he was thinking about
a very different house and trying to decide whether or not to confide
in Aunt Elsie and claim her as an ally. Suddenly he decided: “I’m
especially interested in houses just now, Aunt Elsie; I am thinking
of moving.”
She turned suddenly from the rose garden and fixed her keen gray eyes
upon him, as she exclaimed: “You are?”
“Yes,” he said. “My mother and I.” Then he explained in detail how
an exceptional opportunity had presented itself; they were feeling
somewhat cramped for room, and had been for some time trying to plan
for a change; but he was paying all the rent it seemed to him
he ought to afford; and now had come this chance. A friend of his,
who owned several houses, had one on a pleasant street, more
convenient to his place of business, more desirable in several ways
than his present home, and with two more rooms in it, that he offered
to him for the same rent that he was now paying; it had been
unexpectedly vacated after the usual season for renting was past,
hence this unusual offer. Then he went on to explain that in addition
to Ray’s reluctance to leave home while her father and mother were so
burdened, there had been with her the fear that his invalid mother,
though more than willing, even eager to claim her as a daughter,
would suffer because of the smallness of his house, and the need she
would feel for taking less room than an invalid ought to have. The
two additional rooms in this prospective house, and all the rooms
larger and pleasanter, would remove that difficulty, and as Aunt
Elsie had graciously lifted the burden from the father, and had
promised to continue to belong to the family, thereby relieving
Mrs. Forman’s cares, did she not agree with him that the time
had come at last for their marriage, and would she not use her
almost unbounded influence with Ray to that effect?
Aunt Elsie gave him undivided attention, not once turning her eyes
to the west window to watch the glory of a sky getting ready
for sunset; her face was alive with interest and sympathy.
“I understand all about it, Kendall,” she said, when at last he came
to a period and waited for her word. “I don’t in the least wonder
that you are in a hurry to get Ray to yourself, and I think you have
been patient and unselfish and like a son, in waiting. I do think
that Ray can leave her mother better than she could have done a few
months ago; and as for my brother, I may as well tell you now that I
see a way to fix things so that he need not be burdened about money
matters, as he has been all these later years. I did not understand
it before, or I—well, never mind that now. But don’t move just yet,
Kendall; wait a few months; and don’t take that house.”
He was bitterly disappointed; his hopes that had been mounting higher
with every word she spoke, until that last sentence, now dropped
to zero. He had been over the ground so often and so carefully
with Ray, and her ideas he had been compelled to admit were so
reasonable, that he felt sure the house where he now lived would be
an insurmountable obstacle with her. What possible objection could
her aunt have to the plan he proposed? Could she imagine that he was
being deceived, and that once settled in the new house he would be
called upon to pay a higher rent than he could manage? If she had any
such idea he could convince her of her mistake in five seconds;
the name of the man who had made him the offer would be sufficient
answer in itself to any such fears. Moreover, he was himself
a business man, and would, of course, have a lease duly signed.
Perhaps she thought it beneath his dignity to accept an offer of that
kind, as though he were an object of charity; but he could make that
plain to her. The house would in all probability stand idle until
another season unless some such offer was made; and the owner would
rather have it rented at a lower figure than to stand vacant. It was
all perfectly reasonable from a business standpoint, even though,
at the same time, it was an exceptionally kind offer that he
appreciated. Why did not she tell him what her objections were,
so that he could, perhaps, remove them? Should he act upon those
imaginary ones and proceed to enlighten her? Or must he let it
all go? Not only Ray but the entire Forman family were in the mood
to be greatly influenced by what Aunt Elsie might say.
She was watching his face with keen interest; suddenly she said:
“I believe, after all, I shall have to tell you something, though I
didn’t want to.”