"THE PLOT THICKENS"
It was shortly before Christmas that Frank Gleason ran up to Dalton. He
went first to see Burke Denby.
Burke greeted him with hearty cordiality.
"Hullo, Gleason! Good--you're just in time for dinner. But where's your
bag? You aren't going back to-night!"
"No, but I am to-morrow morning, very early, so I left my grip at the
hotel. Yes, yes, I know--you'd have had me here, and routed the whole
house up at midnight," he went on laughingly, shaking his head at
Burke's prompt remonstrations, "if I but said the word. But I'm not
going to trouble you this time. I'll be delighted to stay to dinner,
however,--if I get an invitation," he smiled.
"An invitation! As if you needed an invitation for--anything, in this
house," scoffed Denby. "All mine is thine, as you know very well."
"Thanks. I've half a mind to put you to the test--say with that pet
thumb-marked tablet of yours," retorted the doctor, with a lift of his
eyebrows. "However, we'll let it go at a dinner this time.--You're
looking better, old man," he said some time later, as they sat at the
table, his eyes critically bent on the other's face.
"I am better."
"Glad to hear it. How's business?"
"Very good--that is, it _was_ good. I haven't been near the Works for a
week."
"So? Not--sick?"
"Oh, no; busy." There was the briefest of pauses; then, with
disconcerting abruptness, came the question: "Where'd you get that girl,
Gleason?"
"G-girl?" The doctor wanted a minute to think. Incidentally he was
trying to swallow his heart--he thought it must be his heart--that big
lump in his throat.
"Miss Darling."
"Miss Darling! Oh!" The doctor waved his hand inconsequently. He still
wanted time. He was still swallowing at that lump. "Why, she--she--I
told you. She's the daughter of an old friend. Why, isn't she all
right?" He feigned the deepest concern.
"_All right!_"
Voice and manner carried a message of satisfaction that was
unmistakable. But the doctor chose to ignore it. The doctor felt himself
now on sure ground. He summoned a still deeper concern to his
countenance.
"Why, Denby, you don't mean she _isn't_ all right? What's the trouble?
Isn't she capable?--or don't you like her ways?"
"But I mean she _is_ all right, man," retorted the other impatiently.
"Why, Gleason, she's a wonder!"
Gleason, within whom the Hallelujah Chorus had become such a shout of
triumph that he half expected to see Burke Denby cover his ears,
managed to utter a cool--
"Really? Well, I'm glad, I'm sure."
"Well, she is. She's no ordinary girl." ("If Helen could but hear that!"
exulted the doctor to himself.) "Why, what do you think? She can
actually tell _me_ some things about my own curios!"
"Then they are more than--er--potatoes to her? You know you said--"
"Yes, I know I did. But just hear this. In spite of her seeming
intelligence and capability, I'd been dreading to open those cabinets
and let her touch those things dad and I had spent so many dear years
together gathering. But, of course, I knew that that was silly. One of
my chief reasons for getting her was the cataloguing; and it was absurd
not to set her at it. So one day, after everything else was done, I
explained what I wanted, and told her to go ahead."
"Well, and--did she?" prompted the doctor, as the other paused.
"She did--_exactly_ that. She went ahead--'way ahead of what I'd told
her to do. Why, when I got home, I was amazed to see what she'd done.
But best of all was her interest and her enthusiasm, and the fact that
she knew and appreciated what they were. You see that's one of the
things I'd been dreading--her ignorance--her indifference; but I dreaded
more that she might gush and say, 'Oh, how pretty!' And I knew if she
did I'd--I'd want to knock her down."
"So glad--she didn't!" murmured the doctor.
His host laughed shamefacedly.
"Oh, yes, I know. That was rather a strong statement. But you see I felt
strongly. And then to find-- But, Gleason, she really is a wonder. We're
working together now-- _I'm_ working. As I said, I haven't been to the
office for a week."
"Is she agreeable--personally?"
"Yes, very. She's pleasant and cheerful, bright, and very much of a
lady. She's capable, and has uncommon good sense. Her voice, too, is
excellent for reading. In short, she is, as I told you, a wonder; and
I'm more than indebted to you for finding her. Let's see, you say you do
know her family?"
Gleason got suddenly to his feet.
"Yes, oh, yes. Good family, too! Now I'm sorry to eat and run, as the
children say, but I'll have to, Burke, to-night. One or two other little
matters I'll have to attend to before I sleep. But, as I said a few
minutes ago, I'm glad to see you in better spirits. Keep on with the
good work."
The doctor seemed nervous, and anxious to get away; and in another
minute the great outer door had closed behind him.
"Hm-m! Wonder what's his rush," puzzled Burke Denby, left standing in
the hall.
There was a slight frown on his face. But in another minute it was gone:
he had remembered suddenly that he had promised Miss Darling that he
would try to find certain obscure data regarding the tablet they had
been at work upon that afternoon. It was just as well, perhaps, after
all, that the doctor had had to leave early--it would give more time for
work.
With an eager lifting of his head Burke Denby turned and strode into the
library.
Meanwhile, hurrying away from Denby House was the doctor, his whole self
a Hallelujah Chorus of rejoicing. His countenance was still aglow with
joy when, a little later, he rang the bell of a West Hill
apartment-house suite bearing the name, "Mrs. Helen Darling."
To his joy he found Helen alone; but hardly had he given her a hasty
account of his visit to Burke Denby, and assured her that he was
positive everything was working out finely, when Betty came in from the
corner grocery store, breezy and smiling.
"Oh, it's Dr. Gleason!" she welcomed him. "Now, I'm glad mother didn't
go with me to-night, after all,--for we'd both been out then, and we
shouldn't have seen you."
"Which would have been my great loss," bowed the man gallantly, his
approving eyes on Betty's glowing face.
"Oh, but ours, too,--especially mine," she declared. "You see, I've been
wishing you'd come. I wanted to thank you."
"To thank me?"
"Yes; for finding this lovely place for me."
"You like it, then?"
"I love it. Why, Dr. Gleason, you have no idea of the wonderful things
that man-- But you said you knew him," she broke off suddenly. "Don't
you know him?"
"Oh, yes, very well."
"Then you've been there, of course."
"Many times."
"Oh, how silly of me!" she laughed. "As if I could tell _you_ anything
about antiques and curios! But hasn't he some beautiful things?"
"He has, indeed. But how about the man? You haven't told me at all how
you like Mr. Denby himself."
Betty glanced at her mother with a roguish shrug.
"Well, as I tell mother, now that I've got him trained, he does very
well."
"My _dear_!" murmured her mother.
"Trained?" The question was the doctor's.
"Yes. You see at first he was such a bear."
"Oh, Betty!" exclaimed her mother, in very genuine distress.
But Betty plainly was in one of her most mischievous moods. With another
merry glance at her mother she turned to the doctor.
"It's only this, doctor. You see, at first he was so silent and solemn,
and Benton and Sarah and Mrs. Gowing were so scared, and the whole house
was so scared and silent and solemn, that it seemed some days as if I
should scream, just to make a little excitement. But it's all very
different now. Benton and Sarah are all smiles, Mrs. Gowing actually
laughs sometimes, and the only trouble is there isn't time enough for
Mr. Denby to get in all the talking he wants to."
"Then Mr. Denby seems happier?"
"Oh, very much. Of course, at first it was just about the work--we're
cataloguing the curios; but lately it's been in other ways. Why, the
other day he found I could play and sing a little, and to-day he asked
me to sing for him. And I did."
Helen sat suddenly erect in her chair.
"Sing? You sang for Mr. Denby?" she cried, plainly very much agitated.
"But you hadn't told me--that!"
"I hadn't done it till this afternoon, just before I came home," laughed
Betty.
"But what did you sing? Oh, you--you didn't sing any of those foolish,
nonsensical songs, did you?" implored Helen, half rising from her chair.
"But I did," bridled Betty. Then, as her mother fell back dismayed, she
cried: "Did you suppose I'd risk singing solemn things to a man who had
just learned to laugh?"
"But, _ragtime_!" moaned Helen, "when he's always hated it so!"
"'Always hated it so'!" echoed Betty, with puzzled eyes. "Why, I hadn't
played it before, dearie. I hadn't played anything!"
"No, no, I--I mean always hated everything gay and lively _like_
ragtime," corrected Helen, her cheeks abnormally pink, as she carefully
avoided the doctor's eyes. "Why didn't you play some of your good music,
dear?"
"Oh, I did, afterwards, of course,--MacDowell and Schubert, and that
lullaby we love. But he liked the ragtime, too, all right. I know he
did. Besides, it just did me good to liven up the old house a bit. I
know Benton was listening in the hall, and I'm positive Sarah and the
cook had the dining-room door open. As for Mrs. Gowing, she--dear old
soul--just sat and frankly cried. And the merrier I sang, the faster the
tears rolled down her face--but it was for joy. I could see that. And
once I heard her mutter: 'To think that ever again I should hear music
and laughter--_here_!' Dr. Gleason, did Mr. Denby ever love somebody
once, and do I look like her?"
Taken utterly by surprise, the doctor, for one awful minute, floundered
in appalled confusion. It was Helen this time who came to the rescue.
"I shall tell the doctor he needn't answer that question, Betty," she
said, with just a shade of reproval in her voice. "If he did know of
such a thing, do you think he ought to tell you, or anybody else?"
Betty laughed and colored a little.
"No, dear, of course not. And I shouldn't have asked it, should I?"
"But what makes you think he has?" queried the doctor, with very much
the air of a small boy who is longing yet fearing to investigate the
reason for the non-explosion of a firecracker.
"Because he said twice that I reminded him of some one, particularly
with my hat on; and both times, afterward, he looked so romantic and
solemn"--Betty's eyes began to twinkle--"that I thought maybe I was on
the track of a real, live love-story, you see. But he hasn't said
anything about it lately; so perhaps I was mistaken, after all. You see,
really, he's quite like folks, now, since we've been working on the
curios."
"And how are you getting along with those?"
"Very well, only it's slow, of course. There is such a mass of material,
and so much to look up and study up besides. We're just getting it
together and tabulating it now on temporary sheets. We shan't begin the
real cataloguing on the final cards until we have all our material in
hand, Mr. Denby says."
"But you aren't getting tired of it?"
"Not a bit! I love it--even the digging after dates. I'm sure _you_ can
understand that," she smiled.
"Yes, I can understand that," he smiled back at her. And now, for the
first time for long minutes, he dared to look across the room into Helen
Denby's eyes.