Though Mark had scarcely slept at all the night before he was on hand
long before the city-bred youth was awake, taking apart the big machine
that stood in front of the parsonage. Like a skillful physician he
tested its various valves and compartments, went over its engine
carefully, and came at last to the seat of the trouble which the
minister had diagnosed the night before.
Lynn with dark circles under her eyes had wakened early and slipped down
to the kitchen to help her mother and the little maid of all work who
lived down the street and was a member of the Sunday School and an
important part of the family. It was Naomi who discovered the young
mechanic at the front door. There was not much that Naomi did not
see. She announced his presence to Marilyn as she was filling the salt
cellars for breakfast. Marilyn looked up startled, and met her mother's
eyes full of comfort and reassurance. Somehow when Mark came quietly
about in that helpful way of his it was impossible not to have the old
confidence in him, the old assurance that all would soon be right, the
old explanation that Mark was always doing something quietly for others
and never taking care for himself. Marilyn let her lips relax into a
smile and went about less heavy of heart. Surely, surely, somehow, Mark
would clear himself of these awful things that were being said about
him. Surely the day would bring forth a revelation. And Mark's action
last night when he refused to speak with her, refused to let her touch
his arm, and called himself unworthy was all for her sake; all because
he did not want her name sullied with a breath of the scandal that
belonged to him. Mark would be that way. He would protect her always,
even though he did not belong to her, even though he were not her
friend.
She was almost cheerful again, when at last the dallying guests
appeared for a late breakfast. Mark was still working at the car, filing
something with long steady grinding noises. She had seen him twice from
the window, but she did not venture out. Mark had not wished her to
speak to him, she would not go against his wish,--at least not now--not
until the guests were out of the way. That awful girl should have no
further opportunity to say things to her about Mark. She would keep out
of his way until they were gone. Oh, pray that the car would be fixed
and they pass on their way at once! Later, if there were opportunity,
she would find a way to tell Mark that he should not refuse her
friendship. What was friendship if it could not stand the strain of
falsehood and gossip, and even scandal if necessary. She was not ashamed
to let Mark know she would be his friend forever. There was nothing
unmaidenly in that. Mark would understand her. Mark had always
understood her. And so she cheered her heavy heart through the breakfast
hour, and the foolish jesting of the two that sounded to her anxious
ears, in the language of scripture, like the “crackling of thorns under
a pot.”
But at last they finished the breakfast and shoved their chairs back to
go and look at the car. Mr. Severn and his wife had eaten long ago and
gone about their early morning duties, and it had been Marilyn's duty to
do the honors for the guests, so she drew a sigh of relief, and, evading
Laurie's proffered arm slid into the pantry and let them go alone.
But when she glanced through the dining-room window a few minutes later
as she passed removing the dishes from the table, she saw Mark upon his
knees beside the car, looking up with his winning smile and talking
to Opal, who stood close beside him all attention, with her little boy
attitude, and a wide childlike look in her big effective eyes. Something
big and terrible seemed to seize Marilyn's heart with a vise-like grip,
and be choking her breath in her throat. She turned quickly, gathered up
her pile of dishes and hurried into the pantry, her face white and set,
and her eyes stinging with proud unshed tears.
A few minutes later, dressed in brown riding clothes exquisitely
tailored, and a soft brown felt hat, she might have been seen hurrying
through the back fence, if anybody had been looking that way, across the
Joneses' lot to the little green stable that housed a riding horse that
was hers to ride whenever she chose. She had left word with Naomi that
she was going to Economy and would be back in time for lunch, and she
hoped in her heart that when she returned both of their guests would
have departed. It was perhaps a bit shabby of her to leave it all on her
mother this way, but mother would understand, and very likely be glad.
So Lynn mounted her little brown horse and rode by a circuitous way,
across the creek, and out around the town to avoid passing her own home,
and was presently on her way up to the crossroads down which Laurie
Shafton had come in the dark midnight.
As she crossed the Highway, she noticed the Detour, and paused an
instant to study the peculiar sign, and the partly cleared way around.
And while she stood wondering a car came swiftly up from the Economy way
past the Blue Duck Tavern. The driver bowed and smiled and she perceived
it was the Chief of Police from Economy, a former resident of Sabbath
Valley, and very much respected in the community, and with him in the
front seat, was another uniformed policeman!
With a sudden constriction at her heart Marilyn bowed and rode on. Was
he going to Sabbath Valley? Was there truth in the rumor that Mark was
in trouble? She looked back to see if he had turned down the Highway,
but he halted the car with its nose pointed Sabbath Valleyward and got
out to examine the Detour on the Highway. She rode slowly and turned
around several times, but as long as she was in sight his car remained
standing pointed toward the Valley.