CRIMSON MOUNTAIN (12 page)

“I certainly am, for I didn’t stop for breakfast at all. Was too busy getting things in line for my departure. I think I could eat an ox if it was well cooked.”

They went smiling into the neat-looking restaurant, and life again became a delightful adventure. Another resting place where they could push aside for a little while longer the fact that they might very soon have to part forever.

“And now,” said Pilgrim as they finished their meal, “we’ve just three or four minutes to settle a few important questions. In the first place, here’s one I spent a good deal of time on last night and decided that I wouldn’t leave you again without asking it and getting your answer. If during the months that are ahead I should dare to write you a letter now and then or send you a mere postal card at times, would it offend you?”

Laurel flashed a pleasant look at him. “It certainly would not.”

“And might I hope that now and then I might receive a word or two at least in recognition?”

“You certainly might,” said the girl again. “Aren’t we friends, and why shouldn’t we write?”

Pilgrim drew a long breath. “That’s a load off my mind,” he said. “Do you know I really haven’t any folks of my own to write me, and I’d like it a lot if I might feel I had one sympathetic friend who sort of took a little interest in what happened to me. You know, it’s a lonesome time at camp when all the other fellows are getting letters and there’s not even an advertisement for me. I haven’t been in camp so long yet, but I’ve had a chance to experience that already. Oh, of course I know a lot of fellows from college and places where I’ve worked, but somehow fellows don’t write much, and when you’ve not had a home for years, a letter certainly would be appreciated. It sort of seemed to me as if
you
might understand and not think me too presuming, even if I haven’t known you very long.”

“Of course!” said Laurel, trying to keep back the brightness of forbidden tears, which would make her eyes shine in spite of her. “I’m glad you asked me. I’m not sure but I would have written to you anyway, at least once, even if you hadn’t asked. One doesn’t get lifted over the heads of wild cattle every day, and one doesn’t forget afterward and never think another thought about the one who did it. Of course I’m answering your letters and cards, and you are not to think I’m forward either if I should happen to write sometimes ahead of the right order. Remember, you aren’t the only one who is starting out on a new life and leaving the old one behind, and I’m going to be plenty lonesome myself. You see, the crowds of friends I have back of me won’t in the least understand why I’m doing this, deliberately leaving what they consider fine opportunities behind me and setting out to earn a plain living and just be satisfied with that. They don’t understand and they won’t forgive it, and therefore they won’t write to me. And to tell you the truth, I don’t much care if they don’t, most of them, just because they can’t possibly be in sympathy with me. I sort of think you will understand,” and she twinkled a wistful little mischievous grin at him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll do my best to be a sympathetic friend if you’ll give me half a chance. And now, next, suppose you drive to the filling station at three o’clock where we left my car yesterday, and I’ll telephone you there and let you know the prospect. There’s a possibility of course that I may not be free to go with you until after the four thirty leaves if I have to put that lawyer of mine on the train, but I ought to know by three what is likely to be happening. Will that be time for what you want?”

“Oh yes. Yes, indeed. But please don’t put yourself out to go with me. It isn’t really
necessary
, you know, just pleasant!”

“I see,” said Pilgrim, smiling. “That sounds good. Somehow I feel like a regular guy, making plans this way with a girl. You know, I’ve never had many girlfriends, in fact, not any real ones. Just acquaintances or schoolmates, and only a speaking acquaintance with those.”

“Well, I’m afraid you have one now.” She laughed. “And now, sir, does that finish the list of questions?”

“No,” said Pilgrim. “There’s one more thing I wanted to bring to your notice, and that is a dear little lady who used to be a good friend of mine when I was a kid. That is she always took me into her kitchen when I delivered eggs or fresh berries I had picked and gave me hot gingerbread or bread and honey or fresh sugary doughnuts and acted as if she had some interest in a mere kid beyond his being a delivery boy. She used to ask me if I knew God and if I knew how to pray, and once she gave a little leather New Testament, small enough to carry in my pocket. I’ve kept it always and taken great care of it, kept it wrapped in tissue paper and all that. But when I knew I was going to war, I hunted it out and put it in my pocket. I sort of thought I’d like to have it with me.”

Almost ashamed, he reached his hand in his breast pocket and drew out the little soft leather New Testament and handed it to her, opening the flyleaf, on which was written in a fine old hand,

To Philip, with my love and prayers, M. C. Gray

There was a tenderness in the eyes of both as Laurel examined and admired it and then handed it back, and he returned it to his pocket.

“That is beautiful,” said the girl earnestly. “I’m glad you brought it with you. If I were you, I would read it a lot. Perhaps it will help you bear things when you are lonely.”

“I’m going to,” said the young man. And then, after a moment of thought, he said, “I suppose it will be sort of an odd thing to do to read a Bible in camp among a lot of fellows. There won’t be much quiet there. But there’ll often be woods where I can go away by myself. Somewhere I’ll find a quiet place. However, I’m glad I have it. But that’s not what I meant to talk about. I just showed it to you so you would see what kind of a woman she is, and I thought perhaps
you
would like to know her. She would be somebody you could go to if anything troubled you and you hadn’t found the right old friends of your mother’s yet. Would you like to meet her if I were to take you there and introduce you? It wouldn’t take long, just a minute or two. And I must tell you first that she isn’t rich or fashionable. She lives in a little cottage and is very plain and simple. She hasn’t much money, I’m afraid, and she couldn’t do much for you in a worldly way, but when you said that about your friends not understanding you, I couldn’t help but think of her. She’s the most understanding woman outside of my mother that I ever knew. She even seemed to understand what a kid who brought her eggs was thinking about and wanting, and her smile was worth a million. Of course I don’t know how things have gone with her since I went away, but Mark tells me she still lives in her little bungalow, so I thought I’d tell you about her. But if you’d rather not, why it’s all right with me.”

“Oh, I’d love it!” said Laurel, her voice full of tears. “I do hope you’ll have time to take me to her. Does she know you are here?”

“No. I haven’t thought of her in years till I came across the little New Testament when I was packing up things from our house. And I never felt really well enough acquainted with her to go and see her on my own account. She was just one of those folks you sort of think you’ll likely meet in heaven—if there is a heaven—and you should happen to get there.”

“Oh, there
is!”
said Laurel with sudden conviction. “I’m sure there is! And you must—we
must
get there!”

“Perhaps!” said Pilgrim with a sudden dreamy look in his eyes. Then he glanced down at his watch.

“Time’s up!” he said. “I must call up Banfield and collect my car and then meet that noon train. Shall we go?”

“Yes,” said Laurel, rising hurriedly, “go quickly. I’ve allowed you to stay talking too long. So long! And I’ll be waiting for your call at three at the garage. Come, we must drive there this minute!”

A
fter Laurel had left Pilgrim at the garage and seen him drive away in his own car, she drove at once to the boarding place, which Pilgrim had designated as a “dump,” and took the room she had seen the day before. It had seemed to her a possible abiding place, at least for a few days until she could get her bearings and look about a bit. But she did not take it permanently, although the landlady tried to make her do so.

“You know there’s talk we’re going to have a big munitions place put up here, and if that’s so—and I guess from all I hear it is—why, there’ll be great call for rooms. I’ve had inquiries from three or four men who are heads of departments or something, and so, if you should be wanting this for all winter, you better get your bid in now. I ain’t sure I could let it at this price if you wait too long.”

Laurel looked the woman over as she was talking and decided to take the chance. The room was pleasant enough, but what of the men? Would they be unpleasant? That was a chance one took in going to a boardinghouse, of course. She didn’t mind how rough they might be, working men probably, but there might be some who would be fresh and unpleasant. Well, it was best not to be too definite about this at the start. This wasn’t the only boardinghouse in town of course, and she would just try it out and see.

“Sorry,” she said firmly to the hostess, “my plans are not definite yet. I’ll take the room for a week, until I see what I am going to do. I may be going to some friend for a time, or I may not remain in town long.”

So the house boy carried her bags up to the room she had selected, and she took the key the landlady gave her, locked her door, and was presently on her way.

There were three old friends of her mother’s whom she had planned to interview first and perhaps get some advice about a stopping place. But she had wanted to have an abiding place before she looked them up, lest they would feel obliged to invite her to stay with them. And she didn’t want to be under anyone’s wing in that way. She had had enough with Cousin Carolyn, trying to find eligible young men for her, to want to run the risk of any more of it.

But when she drove about her old home, she found that the neighborhood had changed quite a little. The handsome old frame house where Mrs. Sanford, her mother’s friend, had lived was being torn down for the erection of an apartment house. There would be no refuge there. The workmen, of course, did not know what had become of Mrs. Sanford, but a question to a child who lived next door brought out the fact that Mrs. Sanford had gone west somewhere to live with her married son. Another one of her family’s friends, Mrs. Hargrave, was reported to be in the hospital in a nearby town, seriously ill. The third friend, Mrs. Honeywell, had gone to Florida for the winter and might not return at all if she liked it in the South.

Laurel turned away from the Honeywell door disappointed. She had longed to see some of her mother’s old friends and to feel that she was not entirely a stranger in a strange land. But evidently it was not so planned for her.

There were other old friends, of course, but they were somewhat scattered, and none of them were people she wanted to turn to just now before she had her plans fully made. Some of them were too possessive and would be just like Cousin Carolyn, and others would think they had to turn heaven and earth and take her right in, and she did not want that. Besides, she had a number of things to do. She wanted to look up the school superintendent and talk with him a few minutes, get an idea of her job and what was expected of her.

She glanced at her watch. Time was hastening on. Three o’clock would arrive before she realized. She certainly must hurry. There was one errand she had decided upon, so before her interview at the school, she drove to the florist’s shop.

Carrollton did not have a very large selection of flowers, but she remembered that in her little-girl days they always had roses, plenty of roses. And roses of course would be just right. There ought to be chrysanthemums now, but somehow they did not seem just the thing she wanted. They were too big and arrogant. Roses seemed the fitting thing to lie softly below those two white stones near the roadside. Besides, roses would wither quietly and not make great brown clutters over those lonely graves.

She selected the flowers carefully, lovely white buds, a mass of them. How sweet they were! Short stemmed to lie yieldingly over the pitiful mounds. Some pale blush roses for the little sweet grandmother. Somehow she felt that there must be something of sweetness in a grandmother of Phil Pilgrim. Anyhow, they would not be obtrusive, flaunting themselves to the passersby on that grim road.

Of course, it might be that Phil Pilgrim wouldn’t have time to take her there, and she mustn’t break her promise to him, that she would not go alone. In fact, since her experience with those steers, she shivered at the thought of ever trying that road alone again. But if he couldn’t take her there today, perhaps it might be he would find he had to wait over until tomorrow, and there might be time then. At least, she would tell the florist to arrange the flowers in the box with some wet moss about their stems. They would surely keep one day. And if there were no other opportunity to take them now, she might find someone else she knew to give them to. At least she would do her best to get them ready for whatever might come. There was a sweet look on her face as she watched the flowers being placed on their bed of damp moss.

So, with the big box in the back of her car, Laurel started on again. She made her call on the superintendent, fortunately finding him in the office at school, and had a brief talk with him, asking a few questions she had been pondering over in the interval of the night, and decided that he was going to be pleasant to work for. She had no idea how pleasant she looked to the superintendent, who had not liked her predecessor, and moreover was feeling rather forlorn in the town of Carrollton, far away from most of his friends. He did not look upon Carrollton as the ultimate place of his desires anyway. Laurel was a lovely girl, and it wasn’t going to be unpleasant to have her around. A nice thing to look at.

He took Laurel into the room of which she would have charge, explained the rules of the building and the hours of her day, went over the list of the students for that grade, and was generally helpful.