Brentwood (8 page)

He grinned, and Marjorie stifled a gasp and grinned back. What a lot of things she was learning about the makeshifts of poverty.

“All right!” she said briskly, “then let’s get those things back and make the house look natural before Mother gets up to see it. That will do a good deal toward making her cheerful, and there is no need for her to know how we did it, either. Have these things been out of the house long?”

“Not so many of them. The spoons went first. Mother felt awfully down about those, and soon after that she was taken so sick she had to go to bed. She doesn’t know about most of the rest. We kept her room like it was when she went to bed. I guess she thinks we’ve been living on the spoons all this time. She doesn’t know how little they gave for them. She thought an awful lot of those spoons. They were her grandmother’s.”

Ted flashed a quick negative.

“I’ll get them,” he said. “It’s no work for you. I’ll have to bring the big things one at a time. I’m not sure I can borrow the handcart I had when I took them away. I took them at night, you know, so the neighbors wouldn’t see. Probably I can get the cart after the store closes tonight, but it will take several nights to get everything.”

“Oh, my dear! Don’t try to bring them yourself. It won’t cost but a few dollars to hire a truck and have them brought.”

“A
few
dollars!” laughed Ted excitedly. “I can get Sam Sharpe to bring them all after five this evening for a dollar. He’d be glad to get it. He takes the truck to his dad’s garage for the night and has the privilege of using it for any little odd jobs he gets. But a dollar’s a dollar, you know, and I’ve been too near the edge of nothing to throw dollars away when I can do the thing myself.”

“Oh, Ted!” said Marjorie pitifully. “But in this case I think a dollar is cheap, just to get the things here tonight and make things look like home again.”

“Okay with me,” said Ted, “but it won’t likely look like your home at that. Mother’s told us how it looks where you were brought up.”

“Yes, it was a lovely home,” said Marjorie, with a sudden rush of feeling, “but we’re going to make this as lovely as we can. Now, can you go right away and see if you can get the truck?”

“Sure thing!” said Ted. “But he can’t bring them till after five. I might as well stick around here and see if there is anything else I can do till then. That will be after dark, too. The neighbors are so curious. Mother hates that! Having them all find out just what we’ve got and what we haven’t. You know, we used to have a nice home in a suburb on the other side of the city. Nice big house, built of stone. Plenty of room. We each had a room to ourselves, and there was a garage and a big garden, and flowers and fruit trees. It was a swell place. And Dad had a position with a good salary. That was before the depression, you know. We had a car, too, and Dad used to drive to town every morning. It was swell living there. Dad had money in the bank. That was about the time Mother tried to get to see you. She did so want to have you visit us. She was all in when she came back with that picture of you and said they wouldn’t let her see you. She’d counted on bringing you home. We’d all counted on it. And then all of a sudden the man where Dad worked died, and his business went flooey, and Dad couldn’t get anything else right away except a little accountant job that didn’t pay much. He took it and kept on trying for something better, but things were going bad, and Mother had to have an operation, and the kids were sick, and Dad had to put a mortgage on the house, and the next thing that happened the bank that had the mortgage went belly up, and they demanded the money right away, all of it, and Dad hadn’t been able to pay the interest for a couple of times, so they took away the house. Oh, it was a mess, and then Dad got sick, and everything’s been going from bad to worse ever since.”

“Oh, my dear!” said Marjorie, quite honestly crying now. “My dear! I’m so sorry you’ve been going through all that!”

“Well, don’t bawl!” said Ted crossly, brushing his hand over his own eyes. “I can’t stand bawling! I just told ya because I thought you’d wantta know. We haven’t always been down and out this way. We had a swell home!”

“Well, let’s make this one as cheerful as we can before evening,” said Marjorie, taking a deep breath. “I’ll get the money!”

She went into the parlor to her handbag that she had left on the bare little high mantel shelf and brought back a roll of bills that made Ted’s eyes open wide.

“I put in a little extra,” said his sister, smiling. “I thought perhaps you’d think of something we need that I’ve forgotten.”

“Gosh!” said Ted, gazing down at the roll of bills in his hand. “Don’t know’s I can trust myself out alone. I might get held up carrying all this wealth.”

Marjorie smiled. It seemed a very small amount of money to her.

“Get anything you want, you know. I’m not used to providing for a family. I got everything I could think of at the little store down here, but I suppose I’ve left out a lot of things. Soap is one. Better get plenty. Betty says there isn’t any in the house. And potatoes. We could have roasted potatoes for dinner tonight. I got a beefsteak!”

The boy grinned.

“I can see where you’re going to spoil us for living again when you’re gone.”

“Gone!” said Marjorie with dismay in her voice. “Do you want me to go?”

“No, not on yer life! But you’re not going to stick around these diggings. Not with the home you’ve been used to! You’ll be spreading your wings and flying away!” And he gave her a sudden quick look. “Say!” he added irreverently, “You look a lot like Betts, and yet you don’t. I could tell you apart already! You don’t look quite so frowsy as Betty, and you’ve got a cute little quirk in the corners of your mouth. Maybe Betty would look like that too if she hadn’t had to work so hard, and have such a lot of trouble.”

“You’re sweet!” said Marjorie, and she suddenly reached up with a quick motion and kissed her new brother on his lean, hard, young cheek.

He blinked and the color went up in a great wave, and receding, left it white, and his eyes shadowed and weary-looking.

“Okay with me!” he said, grinning. “If that’s your line you better give warning next time. We don’t have much time for mush and sob-stuff!”

Then he turned sharply away toward the window and she saw him brush his hand across his eyes and swallow hard.

“Okay with me!” said Marjorie, trying to make her voice sound as much like his a minute before as she could. And suddenly he laughed.

“You’re aw’right,” he said grudgingly.

“Thanks awfully!” said Marjorie, trying to enter into his spirit. “But who is that coming in the door?”

“That’s Bud,” said Ted, peering through the crack in the wall. “Hey, kid! Hush up there! Dad and Muth’s asleep! They’re sick and yer not ta make a noise! Come on out here an’ shut the door carefully.”

A boy about ten came panting into the room, so out of breath he could scarcely articulate.

“They—sent me—ta tell ya—!” he panted. “You gotta come right away an’ get the kids. Bonnie’s got a fever—an’ she—wouldn’t eat her cereal—an’ she is crying for Betty—an’ Sunny is yellin’ his head off!”

“Good night!” said Ted. “Who told you that?”

“Miss Baker! She said we’d haveta take ’em home. She said they couldn’t do—a thing with Sunny since Bonnie got sick. They said”—he was still puffing and panting from his run—“They said—they hadta—have the beds—fer the—little kids. They got too many—an’ ours gotta come home now.”

“Okay, you come with me, kid. We’ll get ’em,” said Ted, “but I don’t know what we’ll do with ’em here. Gosh! Can you beat it?” He cast an apologetic eye at the new sister.

“What is it?” she asked puzzled. “Who are they?”

“The kids!” answered the brother in astonishment. “Didn’t you know about them?”

“No!” said Marjorie. “Oh, I remember, Betty said something when I first came about taking the children somewhere, but I had forgotten about it. I didn’t realize there were more of us.”

“Two besides Bud!” said Ted, lifting his chin and sighing. “I don’t know how we’re going to make the grade with any more sick folks.”

Marjorie gave a little gasp of amazement and then her soft lips set firmly.

“We’ll manage!” she said. “I’ll go with you to get them. I can carry one of them.”

The boy Bud was standing now, gazing at her in a kind of distress.

“Who’s that?” he spat out, pointing to Marjorie, his eyes wide with a kind of fear. “Where’s Betty? That’s not Betty.”

“No,” said Ted, “she’s the new sister. Did you have any lunch, Bud?”

“Naw. They wouldn’t give me any. They said I didn’t belong. They said I was too big to be there and I couldn’t come tamorra. And anyhow, I hate ’em. They kep’ tellin’ me I oughtta be in school.”

“Well, don’t worry. You don’t havta go again. We’ve got a fire now.”

“Gee! It feels good!” said the child, rubbing his red, cold hands together. “I’m gonta stand over the register. Say, gimme a little piece of bread, can’t ya? I’m holler!”

“You poor child!” exclaimed the new sister in horror. “Wait. I’ll make him a sandwich before I go. It won’t take a minute!”

“Who said sandridge?” said Bud. “Not honest? Gee! Where’dya get the ham? Real ham!”

He watched with shining eyes and grabbed the sandwich eagerly, too hungry to wait for an answer to his question, accepting the new sister quite casually, as being not nearly so important as the sandwich to his poor starving little stomach.

“Do you like ham?” Marjorie smiled as she buttered another generous slice of bread.

“I’ll say!” said the urchin, taking enormous bites of his sandwich.

“How about a glass of milk?” she asked.

“Got milk, too? Okay with me!”

She laughed and poured out a brimming glass of milk, and then brought out an orange and some little cookies from a tin.

“Gosh!” he said, eyeing the spread with genuine amazement, his jaws pausing for a second in their vigorous chewing. “All that!”

“Will that keep you busy till we get back?” asked Marjorie with another smile.

“I’ll say!”

“Well, don’t make any noise. You just stay here and keep the door and be ready to open it for us when we get back with the children!”

Then Marjorie flung on her coat and put on her hat as she went out the door with Ted.

“Say, you don’t needta come,” said Ted with belated courtesy. “I can manage with the two kids. Sunny’ll run along beside me, and Bonnie’s nearly seven. She can walk all right.”

“But if she has a fever, she ought not to walk,” said Marjorie. “Is she too heavy for you to carry? Couldn’t we get a taxi?”

Ted grinned.

“Taxis don’t grow around here,” he said significantly. “Sure, I can carry her if it’s necessary. It’s only a little over three blocks.”

They walked along almost a block before Marjorie spoke again, and a great shyness was possessing Ted. Out in the sunshine with this strange new sister, who looked so much like Betty, and yet was different, who dressed like a “swell” and used scarcely any slang at all, he was deeply embarrassed. Conscious, too, of his shabby trousers and torn old sweater, awfully conscious of that lovely squirrel coat she was wearing and the chic little hat perched on her golden head. She seemed a strange lady from another world. In the house it had been comparatively easy to converse with another Betty, who was wearing Betty’s apron, cleaning off pantry shelves, and scrambling eggs. But out here it was different. He felt that everyone they met was staring at him and comparing his shabbiness with his new sister’s elegance.

Then Marjorie spoke.

“You said something about the beds, but I didn’t take it in. Is there a place for the children? I expect the little girl with a fever ought to be put to bed at once. Where does she sleep? Will it disturb Father and Mother to put her to bed? I think it’s important that they should not be disturbed.”

“I was just wondering about that myself,” said Ted in a troubled voice. “There’s only three rooms upstairs. Bonnie has always had her little bed in Betty’s room, and Sunny’s crib was in mine. But we had to sell their beds last week to buy medicine for Mother. Bonnie’s been sleeping on the mattress with Betty since, and Sunny with me.”

He looked up half fearfully, almost defiantly, wondering what she would think of such poverty.

“I see,” said Marjorie thoughtfully. “Well, we’ve got to do something else right away, I guess, if she really has a fever. She ought not be down so near the floor. There are draughts on the floor.”

Ted looked up thoughtfully.

“I could get Bonnie’s bed,” he said. “It’s a light little thing made of bamboo. It was Betty’s when she was a kid. I know where I could borrow a wheelbarrow. Two or three trips would do it.”

“That’s fine!” said Marjorie. “Suppose you do that as soon as we get them home. Has it a mattress?”

“Yes, and a pillow. Poor kid! She cried for her own pillow the first night it was gone. Funny little things, kids. They don’t use their brains! Haveta have what they want.”

Marjorie smiled at him.

“I guess we’re a little like them, aren’t we? Want what we want very badly. I know I am. That’s why I came away off here hunting you all. I wanted a family badly!”

He grinned speculatively at that and didn’t know what to say, but at last blurted out, “I guess it would have made a lot of difference if we’d known you felt that way.”

“Well, I’m sorry we didn’t all understand sooner,” said Marjorie, “but perhaps we can make up for lost time now.”

Then they arrived at the neighborhood daycare, and Ted led the way in.

A
bout that time, back at Marjorie’s home in Chicago, Evan Brower was standing at the front door, impatiently ringing the doorbell.

He had been called away from the city on business the morning after his call upon Marjorie, returning about the middle of the next afternoon, and finding it a bit late for going to his office, had decided to run in informally and see Marjorie.

Perhaps courtesy really demanded that he wait until she gave him the promised telephone call, but he had never stood on ceremony with the Wetherill household, and he had the excuse that he had been away and therefore did not know but she had called during his absence. So he drove directly to her home without waiting to inquire if she had called. It made a very good case for him, and also indirectly showed his devotion and eagerness to see her. So there he stood, and wondered why the faithful servants allowed him to wait so long for admittance.