Chance of a Lifetime (26 page)

When she had returned the books, Barney led her to one of the small reading rooms that happened to be deserted, and put her in a chair, sitting down close enough to talk in low tones and yet be able to watch her face.

Sherrill was dressed in her knitted silk sports frock, and the merry bands of colored border on the brown of it gave her a vivid setting, as she threw back her fur coat, pulled down the little close brown hat, and listened.

“Now, when can I come to see you?” demanded the amazing youth.

A vivid color flashed into Sherrill’s cheek, but she tried to keep her voice steady and cheerful as she replied, “Oh, are you coming to see me? Why, that will be nice. I’m sure my family and all my friends would enjoy knowing you, but it’s a long trip to make a visit.”

“Not when the girl is you. You see, I’m going to be very plain with you. I’ve fallen for you mighty hard. I think you and I could hit it off pretty well. I don’t see why we should waste any time, if you’re agreeable. I know we haven’t been acquainted long, but what’s that if we know what we want? I was just coming back to hunt you up and ask you if you’d marry me. I like to get things settled after I once make up my mind.”

Sherrill had turned very white, and her ungloved hand flew up to her throat and caught the string of pearls she was wearing as if they were a lifeline.

“Oh don’t, please! You
mustn’t
!” she said earnestly.

The joy in his face faded suddenly into perplexity and then into blankness. “But why not? Why shouldn’t I ask you? I love you with all my heart, and I’m sure there’s nothing wrong in telling you so. I’d hoped you cared for me, too.”

“I’m sorry,” faltered Sherrill in consternation, “I never thought of such a thing, of course, and you’ve been awfully kind—but you mustn’t—you really mustn’t!” Nevertheless she would not have been human not to feel a throb of triumph when she remembered her aunt’s words.

“But why?” demanded Barney again. “Are you engaged to someone else?”

“Oh no! Not engaged!” said Sherrill, drawing a long breath and trying to be natural, but she still hung on to the pearls.

Barney eyed her intently. “Not engaged!” he said speculatively. “But—there is
somebody
! Somebody else?”

Sherrill’s eyes said yes, but her lips only trembled into a wan little smile.

She pressed her fingers flutteringly along the beads, and Barney’s eyes followed them hungrily. Such pretty, characterful fingers.

“Then there is somebody—” he said again slowly, watching her, “and
—he
gave you
those
pearls! Am I right?”

Sherrill started, and the pink telltale color flooded her face happily with a kind of joyous glow.

“Who is he?” asked the disappointed Barney. “Is he rich? Is he good looking? Would I stand a chance of cutting him out if I tried?”

“You wouldn’t try,” said Sherrill firmly. “You’re too fine for that!”

“The dickens I am!” said the youth under his breath.

“And you couldn’t if you did,” she finished softly.

“Really?” he said, and studied her face. “Is it that far?”

“It isn’t far at all,” said Sherrill. “We’ve never talked about such things. We’ve just been comrades always, since we were little—no he’s not rich, he doesn’t resemble a movie star, but he’s rather wonderful, too, in quite another way—but
—he
belongs to my world—”

“And I
don’t,
you think,” the young man finished sadly. “But listen here. I’d decided to go into this thing and try to please you. Wouldn’t you like to take me and reform me and make something real out of me?”

“I couldn’t do that,” said Sherrill earnestly. “Only the Lord Jesus could do that, and if you really wanted to take Him into your life, you wouldn’t let it depend on whether I was around or not. You would take Him anyway, above all the world. And it wouldn’t be genuine if you did it to please me.”

“So!” said Barney Fennimore, suddenly realizing that here was something in his pampered life that he couldn’t have and money couldn’t buy. Then suddenly he drew out from his pocket a little white box, and took from it a blue velvet case.

“I want to show you what I bought for you today,” he said. “At least I can
show
it to you.”

He sprung open the case and there gleamed the most gorgeous diamond that Sherrill had ever looked upon, set in a hoop of emeralds.

“Oh!” she said tenderly, sadly, as if she had looked upon the death of something sweet and tender.

He watched her a moment eagerly, his hungry look appearing again, and then a sternness seemed to settle about his cheerful features.

“And you won’t wear it?” he asked sadly.

“I couldn’t,” she said.

He snapped the case shut and stuffed it in his pocket, out of sight.

“You’re real!” he said. “You’re the dearest thing that ever happened.” And suddenly he put his firm, well-kept hand drawn over her small one and gave her a quick, close clasp like a long farewell. “If I had a girl like you I might amount to something.”

“You will,” said Sherrill quickly. “I hope you’ll give your splendid self to Christ, and he’ll find the right girl for you—someday. Keep the ring till you find her, and tell her I’m glad for her when she gets it!”

He looked at her tenderly, with his heart in his eyes, for a moment more, and then he took his hand away from hers with a gesture of finality.

“I will,” he promised. “And I won’t forget all you’ve tried to teach me. Perhaps I’ll potter around and find out what it all means after all, someday. I wouldn’t expect to get into quite the same heaven as you, of course, but I’d like to be where I could see you sometimes. Say, would you mind if I run down sometime later and just see if you’re still wearing those pearls?”

“Oh no,” said Sherrill with tears in her voice. “Oh no! I’ll be glad to see you—and introduce you—to my friends—but I think—I’m sure, I’ll be—still wearing them.”

“You sweet child!” said the young man with a sigh, and arising, he helped her on with her coat. The incident was ended.

It was quite dark when they got out into the street, and Sherrill began to be afraid she would not get home before her aunt arrived and so would have to encounter her in the hall.

Barney called a taxi, took her to the door, and bade her good-bye gravely. They did not talk much on the way. But his handclasp at the parting was heartening and reassuring.

She was relieved when she got into the house to find that her aunt had not returned, but she had scarcely reached her room before she heard the querulous voices of her aunt and cousin hurrying up the stairs. She waited quietly in her room, expecting a summons, but presently she heard the sound of their going away again. Morton carrying out bag and suitcases and Maida hurrying along with wraps. They were going without saying a word to her! Had Maida told her mistress that her trunk had gone to the station? Well, whatever they knew, she was being punished. She was being left behind like a naughty child with no apology. But, it didn’t matter now. It made it all the easier to leave. Of course, if her uncle had been at home, things couldn’t have happened in just this way, but she would write him a nice note and leave it where he would see it, perhaps in his dressing room. She would say she felt she must go, and thank him for his kindness, and never let him suspect how she had been treated in his house.

She sat down at the desk and began to write, but suddenly she thought she heard slow steps coming up the stairs, hesitating steps, coming up a little way and then stopping, as if to rest. It couldn’t be her aunt had returned! It couldn’t be the butler, for she had heard him go back to the kitchen. She tiptoed over to the door and opened it a crack to look down the hall, and then she saw her uncle coming up the stairs with such a strange look on his face that it frightened her. His face was white as a sheet, and his eyes were filled like dark coals burning. He stared around but did not seem to see anything. He clutched the handrail and reeled and tottered. Could he be drunk? Oh no, he had a more ethereal look, like one suddenly stricken with some terrible illness.

As she stood there, he shuffled his way slowly to his dressing room door and opened it. He almost fell as he went in, and he left the door open behind him.

“Uncle Weston!” she called, and stared after him in alarm. “Uncle Weston! Has something happened? Are you sick?”

S
he hurried to his door and saw him lying across his big leather couch, as if he had fallen. He must have hit his head against the wall.

“Uncle Weston,” she called again, “you are sick!”

“Yes—” he mumbled, “sick! sick! That’s it! Couldn’t think what it was.”

“Oh, shall I get someone? Do you want me to send for Aunt Eloise?”

The man on the couch laughed a strange, weird cackle. “Oh, by all means, send for Eloise! She’d be so much use—”

“Uncle, you need a doctor!” said Sherrill, frightened.

“Yes! Doctor. That’s it. Get a doctor.”

Sherrill turned and fled down the hall to call one of the servants, but to her amazement no one answered the bells. Even the butler had disappeared. The master and mistress were out, and they had gone out also, every one of them. Or if they had not gone out, at least they did not care to hear a call to service. Frantically she rushed to the telephone. What should she do? She had no knowledge of the family physician, his name or number. But it was evident that there was a great immediate need.

She called the operator.

“Get me a doctor quick, please. The nearest one to this number. This is an emergency call, a very sick man and I’m a stranger in the city!” She gave the street and number, and hanging up, rushed back to her uncle. He was moaning now, and tossing, as if in pain, moving his head from side to side. She went to him and laid her hand upon his hot head, but he only moaned and shrank away from her. Then she heard the telephone ring and ring, and ran to answer it, praying that help might come quickly from somewhere.

Her hand was trembling as she took down the receiver.

“This is Dr. Grant, around the corner. Did you give an emergency call?”

“Yes,” said Sherrill’s shaky voice. “My uncle, Mr. Washburn, has come home very sick, and there is no one in the house but myself. The servants have all gone out, and I am a stranger here. Won’t you come at once? I think he is terribly ill and I don’t know what to do.”

The doctor asked one or two quick questions and then said, “I’ll come.”

Half an hour later, Sherrill stood anxiously in the hall with the doctor.

“He’s a very sick man,” he said. “He’s evidently been sick for several days, and he’s got a bad case of smallpox. Where are the family?”

“Gone to a house party on Long Island.”

“That’s good,” said the doctor. “They wouldn’t be much help. How long have you been near him? Well, I’m afraid you’re in for the quarantine, but we’ll try and keep you from getting the disease. You’d better get out of the house as quickly as possible, if you have any place to go. You’ll have to wash your hands with this antiseptic soap, and you’d better put those clothes you have on out in the sun tomorrow. There really isn’t much danger of contagion tonight as there will be a little later in the game. You’d better get out at once.”

“But I can’t leave my uncle alone!” said Sherrill aghast.

“Well, if you don’t go now you won’t be allowed to go, you know. I’d send him to the hospital, but I’m afraid it might be fatal. The weather has changed the last two hours, and it’s bitter cold and sleeting. I wouldn’t dare risk moving him now. Besides, it would take time to arrange to get him in anywhere. Not all hospitals will take a case like this. I can’t think where he picked it up. We haven’t had a case around New York that I know of for some time, at least nothing as bad as this. You say he’s been away? Well, you better get in touch with your aunt and find out what she wants done. She’ll probably want to come home right away and nurse him, but of course that wouldn’t be wise. However, she has the right to say. Of course, I’ll phone to the hospital and try to get an experienced nurse at once.”

Sherrill searched through her uncle’s desk and, after great difficulty, found the invitation, which gave a clue on how to call her, and at last succeeded in getting Eloise Washburn on the wire.

“This is Sherrill,” she began, and the querulous voice broke in.

“Well, what do you want? I should say you had made trouble enough for one day, without interrupting me at a dinner. Don’t you know—”

But Sherrill broke in. “Uncle Weston has come home, and he’s very sick!”

There was a silence at the other end for an instant, and then the impatient voice said, “Well, I can’t do anything about it now. What’s the matter with him? What do you suppose I can do at this distance? Tell him to call a doctor.”

“I have called a doctor,” said Sherrill, “the one around the corner. Uncle Weston is delirious. I couldn’t ask him who to call.”

“How tiresome! Well, what does the doctor say is the matter?” demanded the aunt.

“He says it’s a very bad case of smallpox!”

“What nonsense!” said the wife sharply. “I don’t believe it. There’s no smallpox around here. However, you’d better be on the safe side and have him sent to the hospital. Any hospital the doctor suggests will be all right.”

“The doctor says he is too sick to be moved. It might be fatal.”

“For pity’s sake! I never heard of such a thing! They always take people to the hospital for everything. I have always heard it was the only safe way. Well, I’m sure I don’t know what to do. I am not there. You’ll have to do what you can. I suppose I can get a nurse. Of course, Carol and I can’t come back now, if that’s really true. But probably they’ll find out it’s a mistake by morning. Weston always does get awfully sick and thinks he’s going to die if he just scratches his fingers. You’d better call Dr. Grainger. He’s our doctor. He’ll know what to do. I’ll call up in the morning and find out what you’ve done. Meanwhile, don’t, for pity’s sake, let the contagion get through the house. Tell the servants to close up the rooms downstairs, and keep everyone out. This certainly is tiresome. I can’t think how it happened. Smallpox! The idea! How horrid! It seems, somehow, so plebeian. Weston ought to have been ashamed to come home with a thing like that.”