Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
“All right, sir. I’ll do my best. Good night, sir!” And Pilgrim swung into his car and started it, sweeping smoothly down the drive to the road and out toward the town again.
“Well,” he said in a voice half glad, half serious, “I’ve as good as sold my property. The government
is
going to build a big munitions factory for defense up there, and they are willing to pay a good price. It’s a good thing, I guess.”
“That’s grand!” said Laurel. “I congratulate you. But the
government!
Do you mean
the government
is going to build up there on Crimson Mountain? Why, that’s wonderful! Only why do they locate a plant where men are to work so far from town and from a railroad? Does he know what he is talking about?”
“So he says. I don’t know whether he knows or not, but he certainly thinks he does. It seems incredible that the government should want my little old parcel of land that I have always considered of very little account, but he says it does, and I shall soon find out. Probably tomorrow. The weird thing about it is my land seems to be the kingpin in this plan to build up on old Crimson. You see, my land has the water power, and of course they can’t get along without water power. If I refuse to sell, they will have to choose another site.”
“But I don’t understand,” said Laurel. “I didn’t see any water on the place you pointed out as we passed.”
“No, you couldn’t see it from the road, but it’s there, up higher behind those thick trees beyond the house. A beautiful waterfall. It’s not far from that picnic ground you spoke about. It’s quite a fall, and then afterward the water winds about and down the mountain on the other side, where it finally flows into the river below Carrollton. But the water power is the reason for their selecting that site of course. I hadn’t thought of that when I felt the land wasn’t worth anything. But the government has offered me a nice price for the land.”
“Well, I congratulate you! How nice to have that happen just now before you leave!”
“Yes, it’s fine. But it means that I’ve got to call up my captain and get permission to stay over until this business is finished. If I can’t get that, it’s all off, for they won’t wait. They are in a hurry to get started.”
“Oh, will you have trouble getting permission?”
“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t asked any favors before. As this is a government offer, it may make a difference. Of course Mr. Banfield is trying to arrange it from his end or I couldn’t get anywhere with the captain. But even so, there’s a lot of red tape in the army that can’t be cut, you know.”
“Well now, drive to a telephone station right away and find out. Don’t bother about me. I can find a boarding place later if I need it.”
Pilgrim shook his head.
“No,” he said, “it wouldn’t be any use to telephone yet. He is away from camp this afternoon—won’t be back till six o’clock. I’ve got time enough to find out several boarding places first.”
“Oh!” said Laurel with worry in her eyes. “Are you
sure?
I would so hate to think you missed this chance of selling at a good price just on my account!”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that. I guess there’ll be a chance to sell all right. I’ll call up at six, and then I’ve got to jog over to the city and see a man tonight. Too bad I’ll have to desert you this evening. I’d much rather stay. But is there anything I could do for you in the city in case your car isn’t fit for travel tonight? Of course I’d ask you to go along with me, but this old car isn’t very comfortable. And besides, I suspect it wouldn’t be considered by your friends as quite the thing for you to take a long ride in a car like this, and in the
evening
with a comparative stranger.”
“Say now, that isn’t fair. Have I been treating you that way today?”
“No, you haven’t,” said Pilgrim, smiling. “I’ll say you’ve been a good sport. But then this would be a different proposition, to go to the city in this old ramshackle car. You know, I never can be sure it will last for a long journey. I might have to spend half the night repairing it. I’m not sure, but I may have a flat tire to deal with before long. But as long as the going is good, I guess I can make it. Now, how about stopping at this house? They tell me Mrs. Price still takes a few boarders. It looks quiet and respectable.”
“Oh, why yes, that looks nice. But, really, if you are going to the city on your own account, I think I’ll accept your invitation and go with you, provided you’ll let me pay for the gas. However, it will do me no harm to run in here and see what the prospect is, in case
neither
of us has a seaworthy car.”
Laurel was not long inside.
“Yes, it’s a nice place,” she said. “I told her I’d come Monday or perhaps tonight in case my car didn’t get finished. Now, Phil Pilgrim, won’t you please go and telephone your captain?”
“Yes, presently,” said Pilgrim, smiling. “We’ll see how the car is getting on first.”
So they went back to the garage.
“How you getting on, Mark?” asked Pilgrim as they pulled up beside where he was working.
“Okay, Phil,” said Mark with a grin. “Everything’s fine and dandy. The lady can have her car in about fifteen minutes now. Anything more you want done, son? Say, it looks ta me as if you needed a little tinkering yourself. You just all but got a flat tire, and your engine’s steaming. Wait till I get after her.”
“Oh,” said Laurel. “Isn’t this wonderful! My car will be done in time for me to get home tonight!”
“Sure thing, lady. You hit the nail on the head,” said the mechanic. “You take Pilgrim with you, and ya can leave his car here till we doctor it up a bit. I can see at least half a dozen things needs doing to it.”
“Thanks, Mark, but the lady and I each have our own business. If you don’t mind, I’ll just take off my coat and get down and put on my own spare tire and trust to luck for the rest.”
“Not on your tintype, old man, you won’t,” said Mark. “I’ve owed you a thank-you for a long time for a lotta good deeds you done fer me, and now I wantta get it off my conscience. Besides, I’m too patriotic to let you get down on them there new soldier trousers knees with them fine creases in ’em. This one is on me, and I mean it, man!”
“Sorry, Mark, but I’ve simply got to get to the city. Excuse me a minute. I’ll have to telephone. And when I get back, I’ll wager I can get my car in shape as soon as you finish that one.”
So Pilgrim went in to the telephone for a few minutes, and Laurel watched his face and gathered that he had finally reached his officer and that the answer was satisfactory. It was pleasant to watch the glow of light in his eyes and the pleased smile as he talked, as if he and his captain were on friendly terms. Then he came out.
“It’s okay,” he said in a tone of satisfaction. “I’m off for two days longer to get this matter settled up. And now, how is your car? Why—but—what has become of mine? Mark, you sinner! What have you done with it?”
Then, as he rounded the corner into the back of the garage, “What have you taken off those wheels for? I didn’t tell you to repair my car!”
“Those wheels were out of alignment. Hadn’t you noticed it, pal? Anyhow, I’m fixing it. The lady says she wants you to go in her car. She claims she’s afraid to ride to the city alone at night on that there lonely road.” Mark winked affably at Laurel as he turned back to put a final twist to a nut he was tightening in her car before turning it over to her.
Laurel gave him an understanding grin and turned toward Pilgrim.
“I can’t credit that,” said Pilgrim. “That girl’s not afraid of anything.”
“Listen,” said Laurel, stepping to Pilgrim’s side and speaking in a low tone, “this is probably my only chance to do a little repaying for the way you saved my life, and I want you please to be good and let me do it.
Please!
And besides, it
is
a very lonely ride some of the way to the city, and I really want your company.”
Pilgrim looked into her wide blue eyes, and something flashed from them to his own and deep into his soul. His own glance softened.
“All right,” he said, “if you really mean it. Only, remember I’m an utter stranger, you know.”
“No,” said Laurel, “you’re
not
a stranger. Not since you saved my life!” And the smile she gave him sent a warm glow around his heart. Then her eyes went down in sudden embarrassment. “You know, I’m really quite unnerved with what I’ve been through this afternoon!” she explained quickly, in what she tried to make a matter-of-fact tone. “I really would feel quite uneasy alone. And besides, we have things to talk over.”
He looked at her in a kind of grave amusement. “Have we?” he asked. “What things?”
“Why, certainly,” said Laurel crisply, avoiding his direct glance. “We—haven’t—made—any plans yet.”
“Plans?” said Pilgrim with a lifting of his brows.
“Why, yes, plans for meeting again, and all that. You haven’t even given me your address.”
“Address?” he said, almost stupidly. “Why would you want that?”
She gave him a quick, almost reproachful look, and the color stole softly into her lovely cheeks.
“You certainly were not planning that we should go back and be strangers again, were you?” she asked almost haughtily.
He caught his breath but held his lips steady. “Wasn’t that what you were expecting would happen?” he asked. “Isn’t that what you want? I certainly wouldn’t presume on some slight service I was able to render.”
Laurel went suddenly white and drew a quick breath, her lips trembling a little, though she was doing her best to hold them still. “It certainly is
not!”
she flashed. “Why—why—I thought we were
friends!”
And now her little soft chin was trembling in spite of her best efforts.
Then the hard expression that had come into Pilgrim’s face while he was speaking suddenly softened again, and he looked deep into her eyes as if he were searching her very soul.
“Are you
sure?”
he asked, and his voice was tense.
“I certainly am sure,” she said very definitely. “How could you think I was like that?”
One more instant his eyes raked her face, and then he suddenly put his hand over hers with quick meaningful pressure, and his face bloomed into a brilliant smile.
“All right! Come on, then,” he said, and led the way to her car.
F
illed with a great joy that she did not in the least understand, Laurel followed him, hesitating only an instant at the car door.
“Will you drive?” she asked shyly.
“If you want me to,” he said gravely.
“I do,” said Laurel and got into the right-hand seat.
“Just a minute till I get my suitcase from my car,” said Pilgrim, and hurried away. He was back in a moment more, stowed his baggage in the back of the car, and slid in behind the wheel.
“Okay, Mark,” he called, “see you sometime tomorrow!” Then Pilgrim started the car, curving out of the enclosure and into the road, his capable hand firmly on the wheel. “I might return on the morning train you know, if I can get my work done.”
He looked down at her with his charming smile. “Well, we’re off!” he said, and it seemed to mean so much more than just the words, that her heart gave an odd little rapturous thrill. Then her conscience rose up in alarm. What right had she to feel that way? To thrill at his words? Of course he was a good-looking soldier, wavy brown hair, nice eyes under long lashes, steady brows, clear-cut features, but what right did that give her to read into those simple words—“
We’re off”—a
satisfaction of her own that perhaps did not find an echo in the young man’s heart? Ah! That was a thought. Perhaps he had not
wanted
to come with her. Perhaps there was someone else he wanted to take, some other girl whom he had been planning to see and take to the city? Trouble suddenly clouded her eyes. A moment later she spoke, putting a restraining conscience into action.
“Wait!” she said sharply. “I’ve just thought. Perhaps this is interfering with something you had planned. Perhaps you didn’t want to do this. I am being very selfish. You probably have other friends you would have liked to take with you. Or at least you must be fed up with my company by this time. I have been too insistent. Please go back. We can explain that we have changed our minds. And if I worried you by suggesting I didn’t want to go alone, forget it. Or what will do just as well—ease your conscience by following me later on the same road, and pick up the pieces if any, then your duty will be just as thoroughly done. I really am not afraid.”
She gave a bright little imitation of a laugh to end her words gracefully, but there was a small, hurt catch like a sob in her voice that stirred Phil Pilgrim’s heart more than it had ever been stirred by any girl in his life.
Suddenly he laid his free hand over hers that lay in her lap by his side. “Please don’t say that,” he said gently. “Please don’t
think
that! I certainly
did
want to come with you. I wanted it more than anything, but I just didn’t think I had the right.”
“The
right?”
she asked, opening her eyes wide with a troubled wonder in them. “Why?”
“Well, I didn’t feel that I should presume to drive you in your car. What would your father have thought of that? Though I may as well tell you that I was planning all the time to follow behind and look after you, without your suspecting, unless there was need. But remember, I’m just a plain soldier boy you never really knew at all, and your father was Langdon Sheridan.”
“My father!” she exclaimed. “Why should my father object? He wasn’t a snob. My father was one of the most reasonable men in the world, and he would honor you for having looked after me.”
“Listen,” said Pilgrim, “I have always had the utmost respect for your father. I heard him make a speech once when I was very young. There was a lot of agitation in town about a question of moral rights, and a mass meeting in the town hall, and your father gave the most convincing speech I ever heard. He was my idea of what a speaker and a man should be. And it was because I felt that way about him that I didn’t want to do anything that he might think presuming.”