Part 22 (1/2)
He laughed heartily, then paused to stand staring down into the jewelled shade of his electric drop-light as if in its softly blending colourings he saw the outlines of a new future for ”the boy.”
”I wonder what Cal will say to losing his literary a.s.sistant,” he mused, smiling to himself. ”I doubt if d.i.c.k's proved himself invaluable, and I presume the man he speaks of will give Cal much better service; but I shall be sorry not to have him going to the Grays' every day; it seemed like a safe harbour. Well, well, I never thought to find myself interested again in the fortunes of a country store. Gad! I can't get over that. The fellow's been too proud to walk down the aisles of Kendrick & Company to buy his silk socks at cost--preferred to pay two prices at an exclusive haberdasher's instead! And now--he's going to have a share in the sale of socks that retail for a quarter, five pairs for a dollar! O d.i.c.k, d.i.c.k, you rascal, your old grandfather hasn't been so happy since you were left to him to bring up. If only you'll stick!
But you're your father's son, after all--and my grandson; I can't help believing you'll stick!”
CHAPTER XIII
LAVENDER LINEN
”I'm going to drive into town. Any of you girls want to go with me?”
Mr. Rufus Gray addressed his wife and their two guests, his nieces, Roberta and Ruth Gray. It was the midwinter vacation at the school where Roberta taught and at the equally desirable establishment where Ruth was taking a carefully selected course of study. Uncle Rufus and Aunt Ruth had invited them to spend the four days of this vacation at their country home, according to a custom they had of decoying one or another of the young people of Rufus's brothers' families to come and visit the aunt and uncle whose own children were all married and gone, sorely missed by the young-hearted pair. Roberta and Ruth had accepted eagerly, always delighted to spend a day or a month at the ”Gray Farm,” a most attractive place even in winter, and in summer a veritable pleasure-ground of enjoyment.
They all wanted to go to town, the three ”girls,” including the white-haired one whose face was almost as young as her nieces' as she looked out from the rear seat of the comfortable double sleigh driven by her husband and drawn by a pair of the handsomest horses the countryside could boast. It was only two miles from the fine old country homestead to the centre of the neighbouring village, and though the air was keen n.o.body was cold among the robes and rugs with which the sleigh overflowed.
”You folks want to do any shopping?” inquired Uncle Rufus, as he drove briskly along the lower end of Eastman's princ.i.p.al business street. ”I suppose there's no need of asking that. When doesn't a woman want to go shopping?”
”Of course we do,” Ruth responded, without so much as consulting the back seat.
”I meant to bring some lavender linen with me to work on,” said Roberta to Aunt Ruth. ”Where do you suppose I could find any, here?”
”Why, I don't know, dearie,” responded Aunt Ruth doubtfully. ”White linen you ought to get anywhere; but lavender--you might try at Artwell & Chatford's. We'll go past Benson's, but it's no use looking there any more. Everybody's expecting poor Hugh to fail any day.”
”Oh, I'm sorry,” said Roberta warmly. ”I always liked Hugh Benson. Mr.
Westcott told me some time ago that he was afraid Hugh wasn't succeeding.”
”The store's been closed to the public a fortnight now,” explained Uncle Rufus over his shoulder. ”Hugh hasn't failed yet, and something's going on there; n.o.body seems to know just what. Inventory, maybe, or getting ready for a bankrupt sale. The Benson sign's still up just as it was before Hugh's father died. Windows covered with white soap or whitewash.
Some say the store's going to open up under new parties--guess n.o.body knows exactly. Hullo! who's that making signs?”
He indicated a tall figure on the sidewalk coming toward them at a rapid rate, face alight, hat waving in air.
”It's Mr. Forbes Westcott,” exulted Ruth, twisting around to look at her sister. ”Funny how he always happens to be visiting his father and mother just as Rob is visiting you, isn't it, Aunt Ruth?”
Uncle Rufus drew up to the sidewalk, and the whole party shook hands with a tall man of dark, keen features, who bore an unmistakable air of having come from a larger world than that of the town of Eastman.
”Mrs. Gray--Miss Roberta--Miss Ruth--Mr. Gray--why, this is delightful.
When did you come? How long are you going to stay? It seems a thousand years since I saw you last!”
He was like an eager boy, though he was clearly no boy in years. He included them all in this greeting, but his eyes were ardently on Roberta as he ended. Ruth, screwed around upon the front seat and watching interestedly, could hardly blame him. Roberta, in her furry wrappings, was as vivid as a flower. Her eyes looked black beneath their dusky lashes, and her cheeks were brilliant with the touch of the winter wind.
”When did you come? How did you find your father and mother?” inquired Roberta demurely.
”Well and hearty as ever, and apparently glad to see their son--as he was to see them. I've been devoting myself to them for three days now, and mean to give them the whole week. It's only fair--isn't it?--after being away so long. How fortunate for me that I should meet you; I might not have found it out till I had missed much time.”
”You've missed much time already,” put in Uncle Rufus. ”They came last night.”
”Put your hat on, Forbes,” was Aunt Ruth's admonition as Westcott continued to stand beside Roberta, exchanging question and answer concerning the long interval which had intervened since they last met.
”Come over to supper to-night, and then you young people can talk without danger of catching your death of cold.”