FAIRACRES IS CLOSED.
"Oh, Mr. Metcalf, may I come in?"
The superintendent was alone in his office and admitted Amy at once.
"Such strange things have happened, I've not come to work to-day, but to
ask your help. My Uncle Frederic--"
"Sit down, child, you are breathless with haste. You needn't talk. I
have heard your news. Dr. Wise has sent me a message. I am expecting him
here immediately."
"Isn't it dreadful?"
"Very," answered the gentleman, and his grave face emphasized his words.
He knew Archibald Wingate better than anybody else could know him. He
was the rich man's confidential employee, from whom no weaknesses were
hid. He believed the mill owner to be vindictive, and he had heard his
often-expressed contempt for the "whole family of Kaye, so far as its
men are concerned." Of course, this had been some time ago; before
Fairacres had become Mr. Wingate's home. Since then his enmity toward
his relatives had seemed to slumber, it had even altered to a sort of
friendliness; yet Mr. Metcalf had no faith in the endurance of this
friendliness should any test be put upon it. The attack of the night
before had pointed suspicion very strongly toward one of "the Kayes,"
and should the victim recover, he would, doubtless, prosecute to the
full extent of the law the person who had assaulted him.
"Do you know how he is?"
"Of whom do you ask?"
"Cousin Archibald, of course. I am so sorry for him. If I hadn't to
work, I would go and take care of him, if he'd let me."
"I don't think he would. Besides, you would not be either strong or wise
enough. He must have trained nursing, the best obtainable. I hear that
he has recovered consciousness and is resting quietly. What
complications may arise one cannot foresee. He has been a high liver,
and he is an old man; but I hope for the best. I hope it not only for
his sake, but everybody's concerned."
"Wasn't it queer that that man, that officer,--a sheriff he called
himself,--should come after my uncle? It frightened my father, so Hallam
stayed with him. I'm sorry to be away from my place to-day, but Cleena
fancies I have taken cold. Then, too, since Uncle Frederic came, of
course I should devote myself to him. He's just splendid. So big and
strong and jolly. Even under his sorrow about my mother he is as
sunshiny as possible. He's like a fresh west wind that 'airs' a house
so wonderfully. I do want you to see him; and I came to ask if you'd
just go and explain to that sheriff how silly it is to suspect him."
Mr. Metcalf regarded Amy for a moment in silence. With all her good
sense, she was as ignorant as a child of many things in practical life.
He answered her very gently:--
"I expect to see him soon, that is my intention. Dr. Wise and I will
become his 'bail', so that he can soon be set at liberty."
"I do not understand you. What do you mean?"
"Why, this: your uncle has been arrested upon suspicion of waylaying and
assaulting Mr. Wingate. He will be imprisoned unless somebody becomes
surety for him, that he will appear at court when summoned to stand his
trial and prove his innocence if he can. It is right you should know
this, though extremely disagreeable for me to speak of it."
Amy's face paled as he talked. She did not wonder that her father had
been frightened. The thing was horrible, and the disgrace of it crushed
her. She bowed her head beneath its weight, and sat silent so long that
the superintendent was moved to rise and comfort her.
"Don't take it so to heart, my child; there is, of course, some great
mistake. The thing is--to find out who the real assailant was and bring
him to justice. This, unfortunately, will be a difficult matter."
"No; I won't mind it. Why should I? If he had done this wicked thing, I
should be right to feel shame; but he didn't. Oh! I've just thought of
something that might help. Uncle Frederic said he caught the man by the
collar, and the man slipped out of his coat and ran away. Where is the
coat? Has anybody looked for it?"
"Several persons, my own messenger among others. There is no trace of
any garment anywhere near the highroad. If we could find that, as you
say, it would simplify matters greatly. Come with me; I heard Nanette
wishing she could show you her Christmas gifts. To hear her describe
each, one would imagine she could see them. She is so interested about
Balaam, too. She wonders where he is, and if he misses Pepita as much as
she would miss one of her numerous sisters. When Dr. Wise has been here
and we have concluded our business, I will call for you, probably, with
your uncle. I have a new horse I'm anxious to try, and things are so
unsettled here to-day--"
"Unsettled?"
"Yes; Ardsley doesn't often have such a sensation as its wealthiest
citizen being horsewhipped. It's difficult to get the hands to work
regularly. It's just as well you do not try, till it's blown over. You
would be asked no end of questions, idle as the people who would put
them."
In his kind heart he wished to save her not only the questions, but the
shadow which might rest upon her because of her misjudged relative. By
nightfall, or earlier, he was determined to have the Californian set at
liberty. It was an outrage that one who acted the good Samaritan should
receive such reward, and he believed that two as influential townsmen as
Dr. Wise and himself could, by their indorsement of the prisoner, turn
the tide of public opinion in his favor.
So Amy went again to the Metcalf home and forgot all her cares in the
midst of its bright young people. The hours went swiftly round, and it
was not till the gate clicked and a trio of gentlemen came striding up
the path that she remembered how anxious she had been.
Then she sped out of the house and flung herself into her uncle's arms.
"Oh, I'm so glad they found out their mistake! How ashamed that sheriff
will be! Please, Mr. Metcalf, may I show him his own little Pepita, that
was? And thank you for helping him to explain, or for the 'bail,' and
everything. Thank you, too, Dr. Wise. Do you know how Mr. Wingate is?"
"Improving. He's pretty badly scared and shocked, but I think he will
come out all right."
"Can he tell who struck him? That would clear everything up all right."
"Yes; it would be a simple solution of the matter. I am hoping he will
be able to tell, after a while; but for the present my object is to
prevent, as far as possible, his recalling the incident. He must not be
excited, else there may be fever. But all in good time, I think. Now Mr.
Metcalf has invited us to ride behind his new horse. I have an hour of
leisure, and I propose to show this old Ardsley boy the changes a few
years have made, even in our quiet town. Did I hear anything about a
small girl named Amy being one of the party?"
"Indeed, you did. Oh, what a treat! A real Christmas gift. To ride
behind a brand new horse, beside a brand new uncle, in a brand new
carriage, is enough to turn my head; so forgive me if I'm silly--sillier
than common. And oh, Mr. Metcalf, can't Nanette go too? She's so little
she takes up no room worth mentioning, and I love her."
It was a merry party. Amy believed that all the morning's trouble had
been overcome, and did not realize that being out on bail was in itself
sort of an imprisonment to a man of honor. Until the real culprit was
found Frederic Kaye would still be under suspicion; yet he could enjoy
his parole, and this ride had been purposely planned by his friends as a
means of influencing that variable public opinion which had first
promptly misjudged him.
Therefore, they drove through the principal streets of the town, past
all its business places, and lingered by the haunts of the village
gossips, that Ardsleyites might see and comment.
"Well, if that don't beat all!" exclaimed Mrs. Hackett to her
customers. "There's Dr. Wise and the 'Supe' driving Mister Fred all over
creation. I guess they don't believe anything against him, bad as things
look. I don't know as 'tis right, either. I guess I'll wait and see
before I make up my mind."
But having already spread the "news" by means of every villager who had
visited her place of business that morning, this was rather late in
season to stem the tide of rumor; though on the principle of "better
late than never," it may have done some good.
When the ride was over and the Kayes deposited at the door of "Charity
House," Amy was in the wildest of spirits. It seemed to her as if the
world were the loveliest, friendliest place, and her gayety infected all
about her. The gentlemen accompanied Mr. Frederic into the new home and
spent an hour delightfully with the artist, amid his pictures. Then
Cleena, aided by Amy, brought in a tray of luncheon, and they stayed to
share it.
"Blessings on Teamster John's turkey. What a lot of comfort it has given
lots of folks!" remarked Amy to Cleena, in the kitchen, as she surveyed
the neatly arranged tray.
"Yes, so be. Arrah musha, were the man as sensible as his fowl I'd know.
But, colleen, keep an eye to that back door. Fayette's behind, in the
store closet. It's behind he must stay or there's mischief a-brewin'."
"Indeed, I wonder he isn't putting himself forward, to attract Uncle
Frederic's notice, as he always does of strangers. Well, poor lad, I
fancy the introduction can wait. When you've carried in the tray, I'll
go and serve them."
But after the light meal was over and the guests departed, Hallam became
absorbed in the new magazines that his uncle produced from his valise;
while the elder Kayes dropped back into the reminiscences that were so
interesting to themselves and so dull to Amy. Try as she would, now that
all was quiet, she could not keep from her mind a picture of Archibald
Wingate, riding home from a pleasant visit and suffering such mischance.
"My first little dinner-party, too. I must go and see him. I must tell
him that I am sorry. I must offer to help."
So, after a while, as the afternoon waned, Amy put on her outdoor
things, and telling only Cleena her errand, set off for Fairacres. She
was admitted by a strange servant, and was passing straight toward the
room which her cousin occupied when she was met and prevented by
Marshall.
"If you please, miss, he's allowed to see nobody."
"Not even me? Surely, I will not disturb him. I won't even speak to him,
if that will hurt him. I just want to satisfy myself how badly he's
injured, and maybe smile at him. Just that little bit. Oh, Mr. Marshall,
isn't it so sad! I'm so very, very sorry."
"Yes, and well you might be, miss. No, not even to look at him. He's
not to be worried by nobody."
So Amy went sorrowfully home again, and as she had to resume her labor
in the mill at such an early hour the following day, she could not
repeat her visit until another night came round. Frederic Kaye had gone
to the mansion, however, and had been coldly assured by the officious
Marshall that "the master was doing well." This bulletin had been issued
through the upper half of the old-fashioned door, which opened across
its middle, and to effect an entrance the caller would have had to force
the bolts of the lower half. The valet regarded the Californian with
suspicion that, as the latter admitted, was not ill-founded; and he had
not forgotten the feel of the stranger's boot-toe on the night of the
accident. So he kept a safe barricade of the premises, and Frederic also
went away unsatisfied.
For several days these visits were repeated, with similar results; but
when Sunday came round and she had daylight for her purpose, Amy again
hurried to Fairacres.
"I'll see him this time, if I have to climb over Marshall's objecting
shoulders," she merrily cried to Cleena, as she departed.
But when she reached the old homestead she found it desolate. The light
snow which had fallen overnight lay everywhere undisturbed. No paths had
been cleared nor entrances swept. The windows were closed and shuttered
as Amy never had seen them. Even the stables were shut up and deserted;
and after a half hour of vain efforts to arouse somebody, the
disappointed girl returned to "Charity House."
"Troth, ye went away like a feather, an' you come home like a log.
What's happened, me colleen?"
"He's gone. I can't see him. I can't tell him. Oh, I'm so sorry, so
sorry!"
To comfort her, Uncle Frederic paid a visit to Dr. Wise, and came back
with news that was not very satisfactory. Without consulting the
physician, Mr. Wingate had suddenly decided to go south for the winter.
Marshall had attended to everything. The horses and cattle had been sent
from Fairacres to one of the outlying farms belonging to the estate.
There was no reference to future return, and Mr. Metcalf had been
instructed to settle all accounts. Beyond this there was no mention of
anybody, and no address was left except that of the mill owner's city
bankers, who would forward any necessary papers. Mr. Wingate had gone
away for absolute rest, and wished not to hear from Ardsley unless under
extreme necessity.
So Amy's dream of a reunited family, of that peace and happiness which
should exist between Fairacres and "Charity House," came to an end. But
other hopes and plans took its place, and she returned to her mill work
on the Monday, too busy and eager to spend time in useless regret.
"The best thing about life," observed this wise young person to her
Uncle Frederic, "is that it has to keep right on. There's so much to do,
and the days are so short, if a body grieves one moment he's sure to
laugh the next. And, uncle, I've such a lovely idea about a 'club' for
the mill folks. To take the place of one that--doesn't seem to help them
much. I believe you're the very man to arrange everything, and that you
were sent home just in time."
"Wh-e-w! A Daniel come to judgment? No, a faithful daughter of a brave,
unselfish woman. You'll never be Salome, little girl, but maybe you will
be an improvement even on her. All her good sense with a little
more--snap."
"Considerable more snap than wisdom, I fancy," laughed she, and sped
down the hill to join Gwendolyn for her walk millward.