Brentwood (7 page)

“But you see, Ted, I’m not a visitor. I’m one of the family, and Betty and I are working together.”

“Betty! Does my sister Betty know you are here? Where is she?”

“She’s upstairs now with the doctor.”

“The doctor! Is my mother worse?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her yet, but as soon as I heard she was so sick, I begged Betty to get the doctor. You know, pneumonia is a very treacherous disease.”

“Yes, and who did you think would pay the doctor?” asked Ted in that hard, cold young voice so full of anxiety and belligerence.

“Oh, Ted! I’ll pay it, of course!”

“Yes, and what do you think Mrs. Wetherill will say to that?”

“She won’t say anything, Ted. She’s dead!” There was a bit of a sob in Marjorie’s voice, in spite of her best efforts. She was tired, and this strange manly boy’s repulsion hurt her terribly.

“Dead?” said Ted. “Well, that’s just too bad for you, but I guess somehow we’ll get along here without having outside help!”

“Oh, please, Ted, I’m not outside! I’m family!” she said, and now there were tears on her cheeks.

The boy looked at her speculatively and frowned.

“If you are family, why didn’t you ever turn up before, when Mother was fretting for you?”

“Because I didn’t know anything about her or any of you except that you had let me be adopted! I thought my mother didn’t want me. I only found out three days ago who she was. Mrs. Wetherill left a letter for me in her desk. I found it after she died. It was there I discovered my mother’s address. I didn’t even know whether my father was living, and I didn’t know there were the rest of you. But I came as quick as I could, and now I’m here, I’m going to do my best to make you love me a little.”

The hardness in the boy’s face relaxed.

Then they heard the doctor coming downstairs, with Betty just behind him, and by common consent they froze in silence, Marjorie with a hand at her throat to still the wild throbbing of her pulses. Then they heard the doctor’s voice.

“No, I don’t expect her fever to go higher tonight. Oh, perhaps a little more. All she needs is rest and nourishment and good care. Be careful about the temperature of the room. Of course, don’t let her get chilled. That is the greatest danger. No, I don’t think her lungs are involved yet. Good care and rest and the right food will work wonders. But I do think, as I said, that you should have a trained nurse for a week, at least. If you want me to look one up for you, I’ll do it.”

“Oh!” said Betty in a frightened voice. “I don’t believe Mother would like that. I’m sure I can take care of her. I have before.”

“Well, all right if you think so, but you look to me as if you needed a little nursing yourself.”

“Oh, I’m all right!” said Betty, summoning a cheerful voice. “I’ve just been worried about Mother.”

“Well, don’t worry any more. Just be cheerful. That’s what your mother needs above all else, cheerful surroundings and no anxiety. Don’t let her worry about a thing!”

“Doctor, my sister has been away some time. She has just come back. Do you think it will hurt Mother to know she has come? She has been grieving to have her at home.”

“What kind is she? Will she worry your mother, or will she be a help?”

“Oh, she’ll be a help. She’s rather wonderful!”

Ted stole a sudden shamed glance at Marjorie, with the flicker of a grin of apology in his young face.

“Well, then, tell her about it by all means. Joy never kills. Perhaps you’d better wait till she wakes up. Give her a sleeping tablet after her egg and milk and she’ll settle down to sleep, I think. And don’t you worry about your father. He’s just worn out. Told me he had had reverses in business. A lot like that today. But he’ll be all right after a few days’ rest and feeding up. Give him plenty of fruit and vegetables. I suggested his getting away, but he didn’t seem to think it possible. However, if you just lift the worry from his heart, he’ll be all right, I think. No, I don’t think there’s any organic trouble with his heart, not yet. But you know hearts can’t stand everything, especially when they are beginning to get older. Well, I’ll step in again in the morning just to see if all is well, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need me or if there is any change. It’s better to come unnecessarily than to wait too long, you know.”

When the door closed behind the doctor, Marjorie had a sudden feeling of let down, as if she wanted to sit down and cry with relief.

Betty’s face was eager as she came out into the kitchen. She looked straight at Marjorie. Perhaps she didn’t see Ted at first.

“He thinks maybe she won’t have pneumonia after all,” she said with relief. “And he says she must be fed every two hours. He wants her to have an egg and milk right away.”

“I’ll fix it,” said Marjorie. “I know how to make wonderful ones. Have we got an egg beater? A fork will do if we haven’t.”

“Sure we’ve got an egg beater!” volunteered Ted.

Then Betty whirled upon her brother.

“Oh, Ted, you’ve got back. I’ve been so worried! You went off without any breakfast, and you had no dinner last night!”

“Aw, whaddaya think I am? A softie?” said Ted.

“I’ve been keeping the soup hot for him,” and Marjorie. “Here it is, Ted.” She placed a bowl on the box and brought the thermos bottle. “There’s coffee, too, and a plate of sandwiches.” She set the things before him.

“Gosh!” said Ted, dumbfounded. “Where did you get all this layout?”

“You don’t know what’s happened since you left, Theodore Gay! A miracle has come, that’s what!” said Betty. “We’ve got another sister, and she’s just like Santa Claus. She did it all!”

“Gosh!” said Ted, wrinkling his nice mahogany brows. “But I don’t think we ought to take it.”

“Well,” said Betty, “I thought so, too, but I found out it was a choice between that and dying, and she seemed determined to die with us if we did, so I let her have her way. Sit down and eat that soup while it’s hot. You’ll be down sick next if you don’t, and we can fight it out later when things get straightened out again. I’m so glad Mother and Father aren’t so sick as I thought, that I’m willing to take anything anybody hands me. But, Ted, you’re mistaken about that egg beater. It was in the kitchen table drawer when you took it away to sell it. I missed it after you were gone.”

“Okay! I’ll beat yer eggs with a fork!” said Ted, settling down on another box and diving into the bowl of soup. “Say, is this good! Or
is
it good!” he murmured, and then ate away in silence.

“I’m going up to fix Father up in the other room so he and Mother won’t disturb each other,” said Betty. “I’ll be back for the egg and milk.”

“No, I’ll bring it up when it’s ready,” said Ted.

Marjorie got out the milk and eggs and fixed a tray. Ted eyed her silently.

“How did you get a fire?” he growled out suddenly as he took a big bite from the sandwich.

“Why—Father—” Marjorie brought out the name hesitantly, it was so new a name for a father she had never known—“Father came just as I was starting out to try and find the coal yard. He had two big bags in his arms, and he was dizzy. He had to sit down on the stairs.”

Ted suddenly put down the cup of coffee he was drinking and half rose.

“Dad hasn’t had a thing to eat!” he said, horror stricken. “It was raining last night, and he didn’t go out to the mission to get his dinner! He said he wasn’t hungry!”

Ted had forgotten the new sister. He was talking aloud, accusing himself for having eaten when his father was hungry.

“I’ll take this right up to him! I ought to have thought!”

“No,” said Marjorie, putting out a protesting hand, “he has had plenty now. I went right up to the drugstore and got soup and coffee. But while I was gone, he insisted on going down cellar and starting the fire. He had matches and a patent kindler. Betty took some coffee down to him and then made him go up and lie down afterward.”

“That fire won’t last long,” said Ted wisely, “not on one bag of coal. I’d better go out and rustle some more. I’ve got one bucketful here, but it isn’t very good, all partly burned. I mustn’t let this house get cold again.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of coal in the cellar now,” said Marjorie happily. “The man said the bin would hold two tons so I got that. He’s just got done putting it in. That will last a good while, won’t it?”

“Two tons!” The boy stood aghast. “How’ll we ever pay for two tons? You didn’t get that from our regular coal man. He said he wouldn’t let us have any more till the bill was paid.” He looked at her with accusing eyes, such young, frightened, stern eyes. She loved him for the way he was trying to be a man and take responsibility.

“But it’s all paid for, brother dear!” said Marjorie, with shining eyes. “Bill and coal and all. I told him I would pay cash if he would send it at once, and he certainly did!”

The boy looked at her, astounded.

“Gosh!” he said, and then he turned and ran down the cellar stairs. She could hear his footsteps going over to the coal bin, then back to the furnace a few paces, opening the furnace door, looking in, closing it again, and then more slowly coming up the stairs. She glimpsed him brushing his hand quickly across his eyes as he appeared in the kitchen, his young face filled with relief.

“Gosh, that’s a break!” he said, flinging himself down on the box again and reaching for what was left of his sandwich. “I never expected to see that much coal again, not in that cellar! I’ll say you’re some sister!”

Marjorie smiled, her heart warming.

“Will you have another sandwich?”

“No, I mustn’t eat things up. I can get along on what I’ve had. It’s more than I’ve had at once in six months. Save the rest for Mother and the others.”

“But there is plenty,” said Marjorie happily. “I got several loaves. And how about some scrambled eggs? I can make lovely scrambled eggs!”

“You couldn’t, not here!” said Ted with finality. “The gas company turned off our gas. You can’t scramble eggs in the furnace, can you?”

“Oh, but the gas company has been here and turned on the gas. See?” and she struck a match and lighted a burner. “There’s no reason why you can’t have scrambled eggs.” Marjorie put on a bent little frying pan over the flame, flipped a bit of butter into it, and broke three smooth brown eggs into it.

Ted watched her, fascinated, as she scrambled the eggs, finishing with a shake of pepper and salt.

“Say, you can cook, can’t you? I thought you’d be too high-hat to cook.”

“I can cook a little,” said Marjorie, “not much. Probably Betty can do much better than I. I never had a chance to practice much.”

“Well, neither has Betts. She’s been in an office ever since she got out of school. Say! These eggs are great! Gosh, I haven’t tasted anything so good in weeks. You’re sure I ought to eat all of this? It seems enough for the whole family. Why, if we’d had this much yesterday we would have thought we were rich!”

Marjorie felt a sudden lump coming in her throat that warned of tears near at hand. She felt so glad to have got here in time before her family starved to death! How awful to think they had been in such straits while she feasted on the fat of the land!

He studied her for an instant and then he said gravely, “But we can’t live off of you! It’s great of you to help us out a little till we get on our feet, but we can’t keep on letting you feed us. Perhaps I can get a job soon and pay you back.”

The brightness went out of Marjorie’s face.

“Listen, Ted, if I had lived here, and you had plenty, wouldn’t you have shared it with me?”

“Of course!” said Ted crossly, “but that’s different! I’m a fella!”

“Well, that’s all right, ‘fella’ dear, but it isn’t different. I’m part of this family, unless you throw me out, and what’s mine is yours. And now, come, I’d like to say a word about what you did to me when you first came in. You took that cup of tickets away and told me they wouldn’t interest me. But they do interest me. They interest me very much. They’re pawn tickets, aren’t they? Well, what are we going to do about them, Ted? Are those Mother’s things that she’s fond of? Oughtn’t we to go and get them?”

“That would take a lot of money,” said Ted hopelessly. “Yes, of course, they’re her things, but we had to pawn them. She had to have food and heat and medicine.”

“Of course,” said Marjorie, just as if she was used to going out and pawning her furniture and clothes whenever she had to have something else, “but are they things she cares about? Or would she rather have new things?”

“They’re her things. They’re all the things she has. And she couldn’t get new things even if she did want them. She can’t get these either,” he added dejectedly. “I tell you it costs a lot of money.”

“Yes, but how much, Ted?” persisted Marjorie. “That is what I was trying to find out when I was looking over those tickets. I wasn’t wanting to pry. I was trying to find out what to do.”

“It isn’t your responsibility,” said Ted doggedly. “It’s mine. I pawned them.”

“Now look here, Ted, you just stop pushing me out of the family like that. I’m trying to make up a little for all the good I might have been to the family if I had been here. Don’t you see I want to be in and be loved and be a part of things, even of your troubles? That’s what it would have been if I had lived with you while I was growing up instead of with the Wetherills. And I’m certainly sharing in everything from now on. Now you reach up to that top shelf and take down that teacup and we’ll add those tickets up and see what it comes to. Please!”

Half-shamedly, Ted did her bidding.

They got out the tickets and Marjorie added them all up, a pitifully small sum it seemed to the girl, to represent the household goods of a home, but to the boy it seemed a breathtaking fortune.

“Is that all!” said Marjorie, when he handed her the sum. “Why, I can give you that right away. I was afraid maybe I’d have to go out and cash a check. But is this all? Aren’t there some things somewhere else?”

“No,” said Ted. “The rest we had to burn up to keep warm with, but they weren’t much account. The old rickety kitchen table and a few shaky chairs. Oh, yes, and Betty’s bedstead and mine, they went first, but they weren’t anything great. We just put the mattresses on the floor.”