As the morning passed on and it drew near to the noon hour Sidney
Graham found himself almost excited over the prospect of the girl's
coming. Such foolish fancies as a fear lest she might have given up
the idea and would not come at all presented themselves to his
distraught brain, which refused to go on its well-ordered way, but kept
reverting to the expected caller and what he should say to her. When
at last she was announced, he drew back his chair from the desk, and
prepared to meet her with a strange tremor in his whole bearing. It
annoyed him, and brought almost a frown of sternness to his fine
features. It seemed not quite in keeping with his dignity as junior
member of his father's firm that he should be so childish over a simple
matter like this, and he began to doubt whether, after all, he might
not be doing a most unwise and irregular thing in having anything at
all to do with this girl's preposterous proposition. Then Shirley
entered the office, looked eagerly into his eyes; and he straight-way
forgot all his reasoning. He met her with a smile that seemed to
reassure her, for she drew in her breath half relieved, and smiled
shyly back.
She was wearing a little old crêpe de chine waist that she had dyed a
real apple-blossom pink in the wash-bowl with a bit of pink crepe-paper
and a kettle of boiling water. The collar showed neatly over the
shabby dark-blue coat, and seemed to reflect apple-blossom tints in her
pale cheeks. There was something sky-like in the tint of her eyes that
gave the young man a sense of spring fitness as he looked at her
contentedly. He was conscious of gladness that she looked as good to
him in the broad day as in the dusk of evening. There was still that
spirited lift of her chin, that firm set of the sweet lips, that gave a
conviction of strength and nerve. He reflected that he had seldom seen
it in the girls of his acquaintance. Was it possible that poverty and
privation and big responsibility made it, or was it just innate?
"You--you have found out?" she asked breathlessly as she sat down on
the edge of the chair, her whole body tense with eagerness.
"Sure! It's all right," he said smilingly. "You can rent it if you
wish."
"And the price?" It was evident the strain was intense.
"Why, the price will be all right, I'm sure. It really isn't worth
what you mentioned at all. It's only a barn, you know. We couldn't
think of taking more than ten dollars a month, if we took that. I must
look it over again; but it won't be more than ten dollars, and it may
be less."
Young Graham wore his most businesslike tone to say this, and his eyes
were on the paper-knife wherewith he was mutilating his nice clean
blotter pad on the desk.
"Oh!" breathed Shirley, the color almost leaving her face entirely with
the relief of his words. "Oh, _really_?"
"And you haven't lost your nerve about living away out there in the
country in a great empty barn?" he asked quickly to cover her
embarrassment--and his own, too, perhaps.
"Oh, no!" said Shirley with a smile that showed a dimple in one cheek,
and the star sparks in her eyes. "Oh, no! It is a lovely barn, and it
won't be empty when we all get into it."
"Are there many of you?" he asked interestedly. Already the
conversation was taking on a slightly personal tinge, but neither of
them was at all aware of it.
"Two brothers and two sisters and mother," said the girl shyly. She
was so full of delight over finding that she could rent the barn that
she hardly knew what she was answering. She was unconscious of the
fact that she had in a way taken this strange young man into her
confidence by her shy, sweet tone and manner.
"Your mother approves of your plan?" he asked. "She doesn't object to
the country?"
"Oh, I haven't told her yet," said Shirley. "I don't know that I
shall; for she has been quite sick, and she trusts me entirely. She
loves the country, and it will be wonderful to her to get out there.
She might not like the idea of a barn beforehand; but she has never
seen the barn, you know, and, besides, it won't look like a barn inside
when I get it fixed up. I must talk it over with George and Carol, but
I don't think I shall tell her at all till we take her out there and
surprise her. I'll tell her I've found a place that I think she will
like, and ask her if I may keep it a surprise. She'll be willing, and
she'll be pleased, I know!" Her eyes were smiling happily, dreamily;
the dreamer was uppermost in her face now, and made it lovely; then a
sudden cloud came, and the strong look returned, with courage to meet a
storm.
"But, anyhow," she finished after a pause, "we _have_ to go there for
the summer, for we've nowhere else to go that we can afford; and
_anywhere_ out of the city will be good, even if mother doesn't just
choose it. I think perhaps it will be easier for her if she doesn't
know about it until she's there. It won't seem so much like not going
to live in a house."
"I see," said the young man interestedly. "I shouldn't wonder if you
are right. And anyhow I think we can manage between us to make it
pretty habitable for her." He was speaking eagerly and forgetting that
he had no right, but a flush came into the sensitive girl's cheek.
"Oh, I wouldn't want to make you trouble," she said. "You have been
very kind already, and you have made the rent so reasonable! I'm
afraid it isn't right and fair; it is such a _lovely_ barn!"
"Perfectly fair," said Graham glibly. "It will do the barn good to be
lived in and taken care of again."
If he had been called upon to tell just what good it would do the barn
to be lived in, he might have floundered out of the situation, perhaps;
but he took care not to make that necessary. He went on talking.
"I will see that everything is in good order, the doors made all right,
and the windows--I--that is, if I remember rightly there were a few
little things needed doing to that barn that ought to be attended to
before you go in. How soon did you want to take possession? I'll try
to have it all ready for you."
"Oh, why, that is very kind," said Shirley. "I don't think it needs
anything; that is, I didn't notice anything, but perhaps you know best.
Why, we have to leave our house the last of this month. Do you suppose
we could have the rent begin a few days before that, so we could get
things moved gradually? I haven't much time, only at night, you know."
"We'll date the lease the first of next month," said the young man
quickly; "and then you can put your things in any time you like from
now on. I'll see that the locks are made safe, and there ought to be a
partition put in--just a simple partition, you know--at one end of the
up-stairs room, where you could lock up things. Then you could take
them up there when you like. I'll attend to that partition at once.
The barn needs it. This is as good a time as any to put it in. You
wouldn't object to a partition? That wouldn't upset any of your plans?"
He spoke as if it would be a great detriment to the barn not to have a
partition, but of course he wouldn't insist if she disliked it.
"Oh, why, no, of course not," said Shirley, bewildered. "It would be
lovely. Mother could use that for her room, but I wouldn't want you to
do anything on our account that you do not have to do anyway."
"Oh, no, certainly not, but it might as well be done now as any time,
and you get the benefit of it, you know. I shouldn't want to rent the
place without putting it in good order, and a partition is always
needed in a barn, you know, if it's to be a really good barn."
It was well that no wise ones were listening to that conversation; else
they might have laughed aloud at this point and betrayed the young
man's strategy, but Shirley was all untutored in farm lore, and knew
less about barns and their needs than she did of Sanskrit; so the
remark passed without exciting her suspicion.
"Oh, it's going to be lovely!" said Shirley suddenly, like an eager
child, "and I can't thank you enough for being so kind about it."
"Not at all," said the young man gracefully. "And now you will want to
go out and look around again to make your plans. Were you planning to
go soon? I should like to have you look the place over again and see
if there is anything else that should be done."
"Oh, why," said Shirley, "I don't think there could be anything else;
only I'd like to have a key to that big front door, for we couldn't
carry things up the ladder very well. I was thinking I'd go out this
afternoon, perhaps, if I could get George a leave of absence for a
little while. There's been a death in our firm, and the office is
working only half-time to-day, and I'm off again. I thought I'd like
to have George see it if possible; he's very wise in his judgments, and
mother trusts him a lot next to me; but I don't know whether they'll
let him off on such short notice."
"Where does he work?"
"Farwell and Story's department store. They are pretty particular, but
George is allowed a day off every three months if he takes it out of
his vacation; so I thought I'd try."
"Here, let me fix that. Harry Farwell's a friend of mine." He caught
up the telephone.
"Oh, you are very kind!" murmured Shirley, quite overcome at the
blessings that were falling at her feet.
Graham already had the number, and was calling for Mr. Farwell, Junior.
"That you, Hal? Oh, good morning! Have a good time last night? Sorry
I couldn't have been there, but I had three other engagements and
couldn't get around. Say, I want to ask a favor of you. You have a
boy there in the store I want to borrow for the afternoon if you don't
mind. His name is George Hollister. Could you look him up and send
him over to my office pretty soon? It will be a personal favor to me
if you will let him off and not dock his pay. Thank you! I was sure
you would. Return the favor sometime myself if opportunity comes my
way. Yes, I'll hold the phone till you hunt him up. Thank you."
Graham looked up from the phone into the astonished grateful girl's
eyes, and caught her look of deep admiration, which quite confused
Shirley for a moment, and put her in a terrible way trying to thank him
again.
"Oh, that's all right. Farwell and I went to prep school together.
It's nothing for him to arrange matters. He says it will be all right.
Now, what are your plans? I wonder if I can help in any way. How were
you planning to go out?"
"Oh, by the trolley, of course," said Shirley. How strange it must be
to have other ways of travelling at one's command!
"I did think," she added, half thinking aloud, "that perhaps I would
stop at the schoolhouse and get my sister. I don't know but it would
be better to get her judgment about things. She is rather a wise
little girl."
She looked up suddenly, and seeing the young man's eyes upon her, grew
ashamed that she had brought her private affairs to his notice; yet it
had seemed necessary to say something to fill in this embarrassing
pause. But Sidney Graham did not let her continue to be embarrassed.
He entered into her plans just as if they concerned himself also.
"Why, I think that would be a very good plan," he said. "It will be a
great deal better to have a real family council before you decide about
moving. Now I've thought of something. Why couldn't you all go out in
the car with me and my kid sister? I've been promising to take her a
spin in the country, and my chauffeur is to drive her down this
afternoon for me. It's almost time for her to be here now. Your
brother will be here by the time she comes. Why couldn't we just go
around by the schoolhouse and pick up your sister, and all go out
together? I want to go out myself, you know, and look things over, and
it seems to me that would save time all around. Then, if there should
be anything you want done, you know----"
"Oh, there is nothing I want done," gasped Shirley. "You have been
most kind. I couldn't think of asking for anything at the price we
shall be paying. And we mustn't impose upon you. We can go out in the
trolley perfectly well, and not trouble you."
"Indeed, it is no trouble whatever when I am going anyway." Then to
the telephone: "Hello! He's coming, you say? He's on his way? Good.
Thank you very much, Harry. Good-by!"
"That's all right!" he said, turning to her, smiling. "Your brother is
on his way, and now excuse me just a moment while I phone to my sister."
Shirley sat with glowing cheeks and apprehensive mind while the young
man called up a girl whom he addressed as "Kid" and told her to hurry
the car right down, that he wanted to start very soon, and to bring
some extra wraps along for some friends he was going to take with him.
He left Shirley no opportunity to express her overwhelming thanks, but
gave her some magazines, and hurried from the room to attend to some
matters of business before he left.