THE PUZZLE DEEPENS
Grace experienced a pleasure in being at home for Easter so deep as to
be akin to pain. When as a student at Overton she had traveled happily
home for her Christmas and Easter vacations there had been a difference.
Then, her classmates had much to do with making it easier to be away
from her adored father and mother. But now that she had bravely launched
her boat on the tempestuous sea of work, she found that home was a far
distant shore, for whose cheery lights she often yearned. To be sure
Emma was a never-failing source of consolation, but there were more
times than one when the clutching fingers of homesickness were at her
throat.
To Mr. and Mrs. Harlowe, Emma Dean was an unfailing source of amusement
and delight. In Hippy, too, she found a kindred spirit, and when Elfreda
arrived the funny trio was complete. It seemed to Grace that she had not
laughed so much in years. Anne, Jessica and Reddy had not been able to
join their friends for the Easter holidays and were loudly mourned and
sorely missed. Tom Gray managed to come on for a two days' visit and
cause Grace the only unhappy moments she spent at home by again asking
her to give up her beloved work to marry him.
"I'm so sorry for Tom," she confided to her mother, on the night before
leaving home to return to Overton, "but I can't give up my work, even
for him. Really and truly, mother, I wish I did love Tom in the way he
wants me to love him, but I don't. I feel toward him just as I felt when
I first met him. He's a good comrade; nothing more."
"If you loved Tom, your father and I would be glad to welcome him as our
son, Grace," was her mother's quiet reply. "He is a remarkably fine type
of young man, but unless you reach the point where you are certain that
he is, and always will be, the one man in the world for you, you would
be doing not only yourself but him too, the greatest possible injury if
you promised to marry him."
"That is just it!" exclaimed Grace. "I told him so, but I know that
didn't console him. Last June when I came home from Overton I thought
perhaps I might say 'yes' later on. But now that I've been working for
almost a year I find I'd rather keep on working. It would be dreadful,
of course, if some day I should suddenly discover that I did love him
enough to marry him and then he shouldn't ask me. That isn't likely to
happen. I don't believe I could give up my work for any man. My whole
heart is in it."
In spite of her declaration of unswerving loyalty to her work, more than
once, Tom's fine resolute face rose before Grace on the return journey
to Overton. During the afternoon Emma, usually loquacious, became
absorbed in a book, so that Grace, who could not settle herself to read,
had altogether too much opportunity for reflection.
She was inwardly thankful when the lights of Overton twinkled into view.
Emma was still deep in her book. "We are almost there, Emma," she
reminded.
Emma glanced out of the window, then closed her book and began to gather
up her belongings.
"I wonder how things are at Harlowe House," mused Grace, as they crossed
the station platform. "Come on, Emma. There's a taxicab just turning
into the station driveway."
Three minutes later they were speeding through the silent streets. It
was after nine o'clock and there were few persons passing.
"No place like home," caroled Emma as they let themselves into Harlowe
House. In the living-room they found Louise Sampson and half a dozen
girls. At sight of Grace and Emma, Louise came quickly forward.
"We thought you would come!" she exclaimed, "so we decided to watch for
you. We have hot chocolate and sandwiches. Do say you're hungry."
"We are ravenous," assured Emma, "and as soon as we make a trip upstairs
and dispossess ourselves of our goods and chattels we'll come to the
party."
"Everything has gone beautifully," Louise confided to Grace, when later
she dropped down on the window seat beside her, where the latter had
established herself with a sandwich and a cup of chocolate. "Only one
thing bothered me, and that was the way Miss Reynolds moped. She and
Miss Ward had a quarrel and poor Miss Reynolds still goes about looking
like a red-eyed little ghost. No one can find out her trouble and no one
seems to be able to comfort her. One day last week I almost thought I
saw Miss Ward crying too, but I must have been mistaken. She is too
proud to cry over anything. There are several letters for you, Miss
Harlowe. I put them in the top drawer of your desk in the office."
At the word "letters" Grace had risen to her feet. "You'll excuse me if
I go for them at once, won't you?" she asked.
"Of course," smiled Louise.
A goodly pile of letters met her eyes as she opened the drawer. Grace
ran through the envelopes with eager fingers. The square thin envelope
with the foreign postmark meant a letter from Eleanor Savelli. There was
one from Mabel Ashe and another from Mabel Allison, Arline Thayer and
Ruth Denton were also represented in the collection and on the very
bottom of the pile lay a square envelope addressed in Anne's neat hand.
Grace pounced upon it joyfully, and, laying the others on the slide of
her desk, tore it open and became immediately absorbed in the closely
written sheets. When she had finished reading the letter she laid it
down, then picking it up again turned to a paragraph on the last sheet.
"I promised to try to help Miss Ward," wrote Anne. "Well, I have
practically secured an engagement for her with Mr. Forest. It is an
ingenue part in 'The Reckoning,' which is to run in New York City all
summer, at his theater. If she can come to New York as soon as college
closes Mr. and Miss Southard wish her to stay at their home. We can soon
tell whether she can play the part or not. If she can't, Mr. Southard
will be able to give her 'bits' in his company, but the other part is by
far the best engagement if she can make good in it. Both Mr. and Miss
Southard say, however, that they must have a letter of consent from her
sister before they will undertake launching her in the theatrical world.
They will write her if Miss Ward wishes them to do so. It is a really
great opportunity for her. You know how easily and delightfully I earned
my way through college. Let me know as soon as you can, Grace, what she
wishes to do."
Grace read this paragraph half a dozen times. Her other letters lay
unheeded before her. Finally she gathered them up and, with the open
letter in her hand, went slowly upstairs. At Evelyn's door she paused
and listened. She heard the sound of some one moving about within. Yes,
Evelyn was still up. Grace rapped boldly on the door.
A moment and it swung open. Evelyn stood staring blankly at Grace. She
was wrapped in the folds of a pale blue silk kimono. Her hair hung in
loose golden waves far below her waist and she reminded Grace of the
beautiful Rapunzel of fairy tale fame who was shut up in a tower by a
wicked witch and forced each night to let down her golden hair so that
her dreadful jailer might climb up and into the tower window.
"Miss Ward," began Grace, without giving Evelyn time to utter a word, "I
am sorry to disturb you so late in the evening, but I have very good
news for you. Miss Pierson has all but secured an engagement for you in
'The Reckoning,' a new play which is to run in New York City all summer.
Read what she says."
Grace handed the sheet of paper to Evelyn.
The girl stretched forth her hand mechanically for it. She
still regarded Grace dully. Then to Grace's utter amazement she
burst into tears. "I can't--take--the--engagement," she sobbed.
"I'm--not--coming--back--to--Overton--next year."
"What can have happened to her!" wondered Grace. Aloud she said: "Don't
decide too hastily, Miss Ward. Take three or four days in which to think
things over. I'll come in and see you to-morrow."
Evelyn made some incoherent response, unintelligible to Grace. The
latter realized that in her present state Evelyn could not be comforted.
It was best to leave her entirely alone until she had had her cry out.
To-morrow would be time enough to try again to try to discover what had
happened.