Before the appearance of old Peter Simmons proved the truth of what had
sent Granny into a panic, that the sonorous trumpet was a part of him,
Granny had disappeared.
"Where's your grandmother?" old Peter demanded of young Peter at once,
but young Peter couldn't tell him.
And when Rebecca Mary went in search of Granny she had to come back
alone for her knock on Granny's door brought no answer. There was not a
sound from Granny's room.
"Perhaps she is asleep," Rebecca Mary suggested, but she stammered for
she was quite sure Granny was not asleep. Why, it was not five minutes
since she had been on the terrace.
Old Peter Simmons looked at her from under the grizzled eyebrows which
he drew together in a frown so deep that Rebecca Mary almost thought he
was going to dash up the stairs and make Granny open the door.
"H-m," he said slowly, "I hope she is asleep. She has had a hard time
the last few years; all women have. I'm glad she had sense enough to
come here away from people and things and get a little rest. We must
humor her." He looked at wide-eyed Rebecca Mary for a second and then
turned to young Peter. "If your grandmother has gone to bed we might as
well get to work at once. I want to see just what you men have done.
We'll go right out to the shop. Martingale is already there. Take good
care of my wife!" He stopped in front of Rebecca Mary and spoke in the
tone of a man who was obeyed.
"Yes, sir, I shall," stuttered bewildered Rebecca Mary as she stared
from him to young Peter and back again to him. Young Peter Simmons had
exactly the same forehead, the same bright blue eyes, the same, oh, the
very same square jaw. Rebecca Mary was positive as she looked from him
to his grandfather that when young Peter had been married fifty years
less a few days he would look exactly like old Peter Simmons, and
probably be exactly like old Peter Simmons, too. Rebecca Mary caught a
startled, a frightened, breath. She was glad to remember that there had
been a twinkle in old Peter Simmons' eye when he had asked for Granny.
She went slowly up the stairs and Joan, like a small ghost in her white
nightie, met her in the hall.
"Who is it?" she asked eagerly. "Is it Santa Claus or Uncle Sam? Granny
won't tell me. I asked her through the keyhole, but she never said a
word. I looked out of the window and I could see a man as tall as Uncle
Sam but he didn't wear Uncle Sam's pretty striped clothes. He was as big
around as Santa Claus but he didn't have Santa Claus' bushy whiskers. I
should think, Miss Wyman, dear, you would tell me who he is?" she
finished fretfully.
"I shan't tell you anything unless you are in bed before I count ten,"
Rebecca Mary said sternly.
But when Joan was in bed before Rebecca Mary had counted six she looked
so small and helpless that Rebecca Mary was ashamed of her impatience
and told her quickly that it was not Uncle Sam nor yet Santa Claus who
had arrived with such a flourish of trumpets, but old Mr. Simmons,
Granny's husband and young Peter's grandfather.
"Shut your eyes, Joan, and go to sleep or it will be morning before you
know it."
"Oh!" Joan had seldom been more disappointed. "I don't think that's very
interesting, do you? Perhaps it is to Granny," she added with tardy
politeness, "but it isn't to me. I'll shut my eyes, Miss Wyman, but I
can't seem to shut my mind to-night, and so I can't go to sleep. I have
to think of Uncle Sam and Santa Claus and the big Mr. Simmons. It won't
be my fault if it is morning before I know it!" she wailed.
Altogether it took some time as well as two songs before Joan could shut
her mind as well as her eyes. Rebecca Mary straightened the counterpane
and looked at the flushed little face on the pillow. When she was asleep
Joan looked like an angel. Rebecca Mary could scarcely believe that she
would ever be as irritating as a mosquito as she patted the black head
before she went to her own room.
She crossed to the window and looked down on the garden. A dull
puff-puff, the foolish chatter of a gasoline engine, was the only sound
which broke the fragrant silence, and Rebecca Mary knew that it came
from the shop where old Peter Simmons was being shown what had been
done. Now that she had time to think of it, Rebecca Mary could not
understand how old Peter Simmons could come trumpeting into Riverside
when no one was allowed to enter Riverside. It was shut off from the
world and protected by a guard. But old Peter Simmons had managed to
pass the guard, and he had come as a general in command. Was that
because he was the head of a large manufacturing plant or was it
because--because---- It couldn't be possible that old Peter Simmons was
the Big Boss of whom the men spoke with such respect! But if he wasn't
the Big Boss why had the men treated him so deferentially and taken him
at once to the forbidden shop? And he had not been at all surprised to
hear that Granny was at Riverside. He had asked for her at once. Rebecca
Mary had to giggle as she stood there in the fragrant silence and
thought what it meant if old Peter Simmons really was the Big Boss of
the Riverside experiment.
She was interrupted in the very middle of another giggle for the door
into Granny's room opened suddenly and there stood Granny, a much
perplexed but determined Granny. She wore her hat and motor coat and
carried a bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other. Rebecca Mary
wondered where she had found the umbrella and why she carried it as she
stared at her.
"Aren't you ready, Rebecca Mary?" asked Granny in a stage whisper.
"Ready for what?" Rebecca Mary had to laugh even though Granny did wear
such a perplexed face for she had to remember that other night when
Granny had come to her in her hat and motor coat.
Granny frowned. "I told you this morning that we would not stay here any
longer. And now that old Peter Simmons has come I simply must leave at
once. You have no idea, Rebecca Mary, what a tease that man can be. He
never would let me forget that I started for Seven Pines and landed a
prisoner at Riverside. If you had been teased for almost fifty years by
a man like old Peter Simmons you'd understand how I feel. And he would
be sure to ask me what I wanted for my golden wedding present. I've told
you how I feel about that question. If I should hear it again I should
scream. What is old Peter Simmons here for anyway? I didn't ask him to
come for me. I never told him I was here. There must have been a leak,
just what Major Martingale was afraid of."
But when Rebecca Mary told Granny her suspicions Granny looked at her in
horrified surprise before she nodded her gray head. "I believe you are
right," she said slowly. "That explains a lot of things I haven't been
able to understand. No wonder young Peter was so sure he could get a
letter to his grandfather. But that makes it just impossible for me to
stay another minute, Rebecca Mary. Imagine what old Peter will say when
he hears that I ran away from him only to run right to him. I haven't
the nerves I used to have. The situation is too ridiculous. Come, we'll
just slip away."
"I'm afraid they will hear me take the car out." Rebecca Mary did not
think it would be as easy to slip away as Granny evidently did.
"We won't take the car. We each have two feet. We can climb the fence
and once in the road some one is sure to pick us up. I declare I don't
see why we didn't go before. If I had known that old Peter Simmons was
the Big Boss I shouldn't have stayed a minute. We'll go--anywhere!"
Granny flung out her hands, the umbrella and the bag, too, as if she
didn't care a picayune where they went so long as they left Riverside.
"If we stay here old Peter Simmons will be sure to talk to me. He's so
resourceful and determined, and he does have such a way with him. I
don't know why I feel like this, Rebecca Mary!" Her revolt was such a
surprise to her that she had to speak of it whenever the golden wedding
was mentioned. "I suppose this is just the last straw. I've been patient
with old Peter Simmons for almost fifty years, but I can't be patient
over my golden wedding present. And I can't be teased, so we must run
away again."
"Poor little Granny!" Rebecca Mary slipped an arm around her and hugged
her. Even if she wasn't perfectly contented at Riverside, Rebecca Mary
wasn't sure that she wanted to run away again. She had heard that a bird
in the hand is worth a lot more than one in the bush. If she ran away
with Granny she would leave behind her young Peter and Wallie and George
and--and Count Ernach de Befort. She might never see one of them again.
Then she straightened her spine and her eyes flashed. If she didn't see
them again it would be because they didn't care to see her. They could
find her if they really wished to find her. They had been wonderful to
her, and it had been splendid to be a popular girl, but perhaps they had
given her so much devotion and so much attention just because she was
the only girl at Riverside. She had spent a great many minutes wondering
which of them she liked the best. It might be as interesting to learn
which of them liked her the best, to prove if there was anything in the
admiration they had expressed so freely. Which would find her first?
Yes, she would run away with Granny and put them to the test, she
decided just as Granny caught her arm between her fingers and her
umbrella and shook her.
"Come, come, Rebecca Mary! Wake up. We must slip away before the men
come back from the shop."
"Joan!" exclaimed Rebecca Mary, hesitating, although she had made up her
mind.
"We'll leave Joan with her father. That is where a child should be, with
her parents. Come, Rebecca Mary, or I'll go alone." And she crossed the
room alone.
Rebecca Mary did not feel exactly comfortable to leave Joan with her
father although she knew that Granny was right when she said a child
belonged with her parents, but she ran after Granny and took the bag
from her. She couldn't let Granny run away alone.
The lights were out in the hall, and they felt their way down the
stairs. There was something fearsome in the slow descent for Granny's
hand gripped her hard, and Granny's breath came in short quick gasps.
There was no doubt in Rebecca Mary's mind that Granny really did not
want to be teased by old Peter Simmons.
The front door stood wide open so that the moonlight made a bright
splash between the dark walls. Rebecca Mary and Granny reached the
threshold in safety. It only remained to dash across the lawn, climb
the fence and turn up their noses at the authority of fat Major
Martingale who had said no one could leave Riverside. The shrubbery
would conceal them for more than half the way. Granny's hand relaxed,
and she stopped breathing like a spent porpoise.
"I do believe we'll make it," she whispered excitedly.
And then she gave a little scream, for out of the shadow made by a white
lilac emerged a short fat figure, and a curt voice asked them where they
were going.
"Oh, Major Martingale!" Granny's voice quavered. "I thought you were at
the shop with the other men. Whoever would have expected to meet you
here!"
"Evidently you didn't." The Major was all grim suspicion. "May I ask
where you are going?"
Granny pinched Rebecca Mary's arm. "It was so warm upstairs that we came
down for a breath of air," she explained with a little sniff of
defiance, as though she dared him to object to their desire for air.
"I'm glad you put on your hats and brought your baggage," remarked the
Major coldly, and he glanced significantly at the umbrella and the bag.
"Night air is so deceptive, you can't tell when you will need an
umbrella." He looked at the cloudless sky. "Or extra clothing." He wiped
the perspiration from his hot forehead.
"Yes, isn't it!" Granny emulated Moses and was as meek as meek, butter
would not have melted in her mouth just then. "Come, Rebecca Mary.
Good-night, Major Martingale." And with Rebecca Mary's hand in hers she
turned to the terrace as if she really had come down all hatted and
coated for a walk in the moonlight.
"If it is so warm upstairs I shan't go to bed yet." Major Martingale
fell in at her other hand. "I'll walk with you."