XXXIII
Nannie’s alarm clock roused her when the sky was yet grey with dawn, but the details of her toilette were so exactingly executed and the final preparations for departure so numerous that the air had already begun to lose its early freshness when she emerged from her room.
“Lucy!” she called to her daughter in a flustered manner. “Please come and help me finish packing these suit cases.”
Lucy obeyed.
When all was ready Mrs. Merwent halted in front of her.
“You are a hard woman, Lucy. Maybe we’ll never see each other again.”
“I haven’t any hard feelings,” Lucy reasserted, staring over her mother’s head.
“Well, let’s have breakfast then. I don’t want to be late and hurried at the last. It makes you look like a fright.”
The two descended the stairs.
“I can’t eat in such a rush,” Mrs. Merwent complained at the table. “I do hope there’ll be a good diner on the train.” She turned to John, “When does the suburban leave, John?”
“Oh, I’ve ordered a machine for you, Nannie. It’s muddy from the rain last night and it will be much more comfortable going down.”
“Thank you, John. You are always thinking of other people’s comfort and welfare. It was just like you to do that.”
The automobile came as they were finishing the meal.
Nannie ran into the kitchen.
“Goodbye, Katy,” she said.
“Goodbye, Miss Nannie. I hopes you all has a fine trip,” Katy responded, smiling her widest.
“I’m going to carry down your grips,” declared John. And he and Mrs. Merwent mounted the stairs together.
“The last time!” she breathed.
As they turned to quit her room she stared around her.
“I’m so sorry to leave it,” she murmured, her eyes dim.
John bit his lips.
Nannie removed the rosebud which she had pinned to her travelling suit.
“Wear it for me, John,” she sighed as she thrust it into the lapel of his coat.
He picked up the satchel and suit case and went out.
As the automobile moved off Nannie gazed back long and solemnly at the house. With the exception of Dimmie, who was still clamoring to go on the train with his grandmother, the party of four was silent during the ride.
Once inside the station John excused himself.
“Stay here a minute and I’ll get the tickets,” he instructed the women.
“Buy me a small box of candy, too, John,” Nannie requested.
“All right,” he acceded.
He soon returned carrying several magazines, a basket of fruit, a bunch of carnations, and the box of chocolates Nannie had requested.
During his absence Miss Powell had joined Lucy and Nannie. She greeted him affably as he approached the little group.
“Good morning. You look like a regular Santa Claus,” she smiled, extending her hand as John raised his hat. “Where’s Mr. Sprague? Didn’t he come?”
“Oh, no,” interrupted Nannie. “Mr. Sprague doesn’t put himself out for everybody in the family.”
John handed over the tickets, the flowers, and the parcels.
“How lovely!” Nannie whispered, burying her nose in the bouquet. “Here, Jimmie.” She bestowed the box of sweetmeats on the child. “Don’t forget Nannie, will you, darling?”
“I want to go with you,” he stated, holding tightly to the box.
“Here, Nannie, you’re not treating yourself fair,” objected John. “If you ladies will excuse me again?” He bowed interrogatively toward Miss Powell.
“Certainly,” smiled the lady. “You aren’t going to allow Mrs. Merwent to deny herself, are you?”
“No,” said John. He walked across the waiting room to a fruit stand on the other side. When he came back he presented Nannie with a box of bonbons three or four times the size of the package she had given Dimmie.
“So you are going away, Mrs. Merwent?” resumed Miss Powell, after she and Nannie had expatiated on the dimensions of the sweetmeat box. “I hope you’ve had a pleasant visit. It has been so nice for Mrs. Winter to have had you with her. You’ll come back every year, I hope. When you return we must see more of each other.”
Nannie smiled graciously.
“Mother is going to be married,” announced Lucy suddenly.
Mrs. Merwent looked up quickly, then averted her face, and finally glanced at John. His air indicated that he was furious.
“Why, Lucy! Why—why, you mustn’t believe everything my daughter says, Miss Powell.” Nannie laughed nervously.
“O‑oh, but I do. I’ve never had occasion to doubt Mrs. Winter’s veracity. My congratulations to the happy man!” and Miss Powell kissed Nannie. “I don’t blame him. You look like a girl. No one would believe that you were Mrs. Winter’s mother,” regarding Lucy. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Be sure you send me an invitation.”
“I’ll not forget—if it ever happens,” Nannie promised rather shamefacedly. She kept edging toward John whose eyes were fixed on the ground.
A uniformed official droned something unintelligible in a singsong voice.
“That’s your train, Nannie,” John informed her abruptly. The party moved toward one of the gates.
“Goodbye, Lucy, I’m sorry to go,” Nannie murmured, hugging and kissing Lucy. “We may have had our little tiffs but it has done us both good. By the time I come back we’ll have forgotten all about them. Be sure to write me every week.”
“Goodbye, Jimmie.” She turned to her grandson.
“Dimmie,” he corrected, adding, “Ain’t I goin’?”
Nannie bent down and kissed him.
“I wish you were, darling,” she whispered.
“I want to go,” wailed Dimmie.
“No, you can’t go now,” she continued in the same whisper. “Your Mamma won’t let you. But when I come back we’ll ask Papa.”
The child began to cry lustily.
“Goodbye, Miss Powell.” Nannie kissed the newcomer again.
“Now, John.” Nannie drew him slightly apart from the others and raised her veil. “I’m going to kiss you after all,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. “Don’t forget me, dear John,” she murmured, sobbing a little. “And try to get along with Lucy, no matter how hard it is.”
John thrust a slip of paper into her hand.
“You can write me there, until I get a box number, Nannie,” he advised brokenly.
A porter took her bags and she passed through the gate. Before entering the train she turned and waved her handkerchief.
“Well, I must go to the office.” John gulped, blowing his nose and wiping his eyes.
“I’m going to do a little shopping. Won’t you come along, Mrs. Winter?” Miss Powell invited perfunctorily.
“No, thank you.” Lucy grasped Dimmie’s hand. “I must take this little boy home.”
Half an hour later, as John’s step was heard in the corridor, Jim, who was sitting at his table with his face buried in his hands, straightened himself and took up his drawing pencil.
John entered without any greeting and, going to his desk, began to examine his mail. After a moment he paused with an air of abstraction, and, removing from his button hole the flower that Nannie had given him, locked it in a convenient drawer and returned the key to his pocket.
Jim worked for some minutes and then rose from his chair.
“I believe I’ll go over to Benton Harbor and see about that material for Wilson’s next houses. Layard’s say that it would be best for one of us to look over the stone before cutting, as we can save considerable on the specifications by taking advantage of the natural rock wherever possible. It’s certainly worth while spending three days to save thirty percent on the shaping expenses.”
“I’ll go over,” offered John quickly.
“Why, there’s no use going for one day. I don’t expect to be back till—let’s see—today is Wednesday—Thursday—Friday—Saturday—at least not till Sunday noon.”
“I’ll go,” repeated John. “You said yesterday that you ought to keep a close eye on that concrete work in the foundations of the other row of houses we’re building for Wilson. That’s more important than the stone.”
“But I didn’t like to ask you to be away from your family so long,” protested Jim.
“I’d like the trip,” explained John. “I’m in a state of nervous fidgets, and a change would do me good.”
“All right. Just as you like,” returned Jim with a curious expression.
“I’ll go home for lunch, and get off at three o’clock,” John continued.
“The drawings and specifications are in that file marked ‘W,’ ” indicated Jim. John took the papers and went out.
He was soon in the Rosedene train.
“I’m going across the lake on business and won’t be back till Sunday or Monday,” he announced when he reached home, coming into the dining room where Lucy was seated, sewing.
She looked startled, but her only remark was, “All right, John.”
“I’ll pack my suit case now,” he told her, and started upstairs.
“Shall I have luncheon at once?” she called to him.
“No. I haven’t time. I’ll get something on the boat going across,” he answered over his shoulder.
As he passed Nannie’s room the door was ajar and he saw that the windows were open and that the room had already been scrubbed and the bedding hung out to air.
In a few minutes he returned to the lower hall, his bag in his hand. Lucy was still seated in the dining room but she rose when she heard his step.
“Are you going, John?” she asked, coming to the hall door and leaning out. He hastened his pace.
“Goodbye,” he called, going out on the veranda without looking back.
“Goodbye, John.”
She sat down to her sewing again, the tears slowly chasing each other down her cheeks.
That evening when dinner was served Lucy called Dimmie and began the meal.
“Where’s Papa?” he inquired.
“Papa’s gone away for a little while, Son.”
“Has he gone where Nannie is?” pursued Dimmie eagerly.
“No—I don’t think so,” said Lucy after a little hesitation.
When Jim left the office for the day, he made his way to a restaurant where he often dined.
“What shall I bring you, Mr. Sprague?” questioned the waiter who always served him.
Jim took up the menu listlessly.
“The fish is very nice tonight,” suggested the man.
“I don’t want any fish!” exclaimed Jim with unwonted irritation. “I don’t want any dinner,” he decided abruptly, noticing that the waiter was lingering by the table. “Bring me a large cup of black coffee.”
When he had finished his coffee, he paid his bill and went out to the street. Here he boarded a surface car and was soon at his apartment house. Reaching his room, he put on a smoking jacket and lighted his pipe. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and began slowly pacing up and down the floor.
“He’ll never grade that stone right,” he remarked to the bookcase, pausing in his walk and relighting his pipe which had gone out.
Suddenly he went to the telephone and took down the receiver.
“Give me Rosedene—” He paused.
“What number did you say?” asked the operator.
“Never mind, thank you,” he responded, hanging up the receiver again.
Going to his wardrobe he exchanged the smoking jacket for a coat, and, taking his hat, descended in the elevator to the street. It was after nine o’clock when he found himself in front of a familiar station for suburban trains.
Entering the building he was soon seated in a departing car. He alighted at Rosedene and walked in the direction of the Winters’ house. As he passed it he gazed fixedly at the darkened upstairs windows. Half a block further on he turned back and repassed the house, still staring at the darkened panes. Then he continued his way to the station and from there returned to the city.
Lucy was lying in her room. She wept silently with Dimmie asleep in her arms.
After breakfast the next morning Dimmie began to search for his hat.
“You don’t need to go to kindergarten, Son. You can stay at home with Mother if you like,” said Lucy.
“But I want to go,” he argued. “There’s lots of little boys and girls goes and the teacher is dandy. We have lots of fun.”
“All right, Son. You can go if you’d rather,” consented Lucy sadly, “but there’s no use in your going over to Mrs. Hamilton’s any more so early. You can go from here when the wagon passes.”
“But I like to go early,” protested Dimmie. “Mrs. Hamilton always laughs an’ Stella an’ me play till the wagon comes. It’s too lonesome here.”
Lucy tied his little cravat and, fixing his hat on properly, allowed him to depart without further words.