Rainbow Cottage (22 page)

It was old Mrs. Galbraith who answered her call.

“Oh, is it you, Marget?” she said, trying to sound entirely natural. “How are you this morning? Yes, isn’t it a lovely day? But it seemed to me when I looked out just now that it was clouding up. Yes, we have had lovely weather. Wonderful for so early in the season. But Marget, I was calling to speak to young Mr. Angus, your nephew. Is he there, I wonder?”

The voice at the other end of the line was pleasant and reassuring. Grandmother felt reasonably sure she had not revealed her excitement in her voice.

“Why no, Myra, not just now. He went off in his plane a little while ago. He had an errand somewhere. But he said he would probably be back about two o’clock if he wasn’t detained. He got started good and early. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. The young people went down to take a swim this morning early, and then he came right back and flew away. Aren’t the rest of them down at your house? They went riding. Malcolm and Betty, and Rose Galway, a girl that’s visiting Betty. I believe they took an extra horse down for some girl at your house. Your niece, was it? Was that your sister Annie’s child? How I’d love to see her. I suppose she’s just as sweet and unspoiled as Annie was? What’s that? Your
grandniece
? Now Myra, don’t tell me Annie’s child has been married long enough to have a grown-up daughter! Why—was she older than you? Oh, yes, I remember. Well, we
are
growing old, aren’t we, Myra? And now about Angus. I’m sure he’ll be home soon. Shall I tell him to call you up as soon as he gets in? All right, Myra. I’ll tell him. No, no trouble at all. Come up pretty soon and bring your niece. I mean your grandniece. Good-bye.”

Grandmother turned from the telephone with a stricken face and went to the window. She was looking out toward the sea, but she was not seeing anything. Her eyes were full of anxious tears, and her heart was talking with God.

Father, take care of my little girl. I don’t know anyone to ask but Angus. If he is the one to help, won’t You please send him soon before she gets too far away to find?

She wiped the tears away and stood looking out to sea.

Suddenly she became aware of dark clouds on the horizon, crowding up together and hastening in to shore. Why! The day had been so bright just now. Could it be that a storm was coming up?

And what would become of Sheila if there was a storm? Surely with five dollars she would be able to take shelter somewhere; but if she was in a house, it would be impossible to locate her. She had so hoped that Angus would be willing to fly a few miles up the coast and see if he could see any trace of her. She could not have wandered far by this time if she went on foot. And surely she would not dare spend much for carfare if she had only five dollars.

Her heart sank as she watched the clouds gathering, and she began to pray again. It seemed somehow that she was anguishing for her lost baby Andrew as she prayed. Sheila was all she had left of Andrew now. And Sheila was gone!

Oh, God, my Father. I can’t do a thing to find her. Won’t You do something, please?

Then the telephone rang sharply close beside her, and she rushed to pick up the receiver.

“This is Angus Galbraith, Mrs. Ainslee,” said a clear, strong voice. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Oh,” said Grandmother in that pleading, wistful tone with which she had been talking to God. “Oh, I wonder if you could. I’m afraid not, now a storm is coming up, and it wouldn’t be safe for you.”

“I’m at your service, Mrs. Ainslee, whether it’s safe or not. What can I do?”

“Perhaps you’ll think it silly, what I was going to ask,” said the old lady, quite trembling now and afraid to suggest her idea, “but I didn’t know who else to ask to help me. You see, my granddaughter has gone away, and I don’t know where to find her. I thought perhaps she might have gone up the beach, and you would be willing to fly along and see if you see anything of her. But I’m afraid now this storm will make it dangerous for you, and besides, she may have taken shelter somewhere.”

There was a sob in Grandmother’s voice now; and there was something alarmed and electric in the voice that answered her sharply.

“You mean Sheila?” he said. “Little Sheila? Where was she going?”

“Oh, that’s what I don’t know!” The grandmother’s voice was choked with trouble. “I telephoned the station, but she didn’t take either train.”

“When did she leave?” The tone was crisp and businesslike.

“A little while after breakfast,” said Grandmother. “I didn’t miss her until after ten o’clock, and then I thought nothing of it at first. But later I found a note saying—well—saying something had happened, between her and my grandniece, I think, and she seemed to think she ought not to stay here.”

“There now.” The young man’s voice was tender. “You needn’t stop to tell me anything more. We won’t waste time on that. I think I understand. You just rest, and I’ll go out and find her. Of course I’ll find her. And I’ll bring her back to you without fail. You needn’t worry!”

“Oh, you are good!”

“No, don’t waste time on that. Just don’t you worry. I’ll bring her straight back to you, no matter where she is. And I’ll try to keep you posted if I don’t find her immediately. What color of dress was she wearing?”

“That’s it,” said Grandmother. “I can’t find anything missing except an old worn dress she had on when she came. Dark blue, and a little old felt hat. But I’m not sure. I thought those had been thrown away.”

“I see. Never mind, I’ll know her anywhere. She is lovely! Now, go and rest. I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

“But—the storm!” said Grandmother timorously.

Did she hear a sound of thunder?

“The storm has nothing to do with it. I’ll ride ahead of the storm. I’ll ride above it if necessary. My plane is all ready to leave at once. I just got back. Good-bye. Keep good cheer!”

He had hung up, and Grandmother, in a daze of hope, hung up, too.

T
here was a distinct sound of thunder in the sky. There was a lurid look about the atmosphere. There was the sound of pounding horses’ feet outside on the beach, coming up to the wicket gate. A chime of laughing voices.

Grandmother looked out and saw Malcolm Galbraith and Jacqueline riding up to the gate, and far down the beach, galloping fast, came the other two women, Betty and Rose, at a breakneck speed. That had probably been the way they had been riding all the morning—one couple far ahead of the other two. The hussy!

Grandmother watched from the cover of the curtain, for the instant angry enough to forget her pain and anxiety.

She saw Malcolm spring from his steed and help Jacqueline to dismount, saw their hands linger together longer than was necessary. The hussy!

Then as the other two horses came nearer with pounding feet, she saw Malcolm and Jacqueline rush laughing to the red car that stood outside the wall and begin to pull up the top.

Then the first raindrops began to fall, and Malcolm mounted hurriedly, joined his wife and her guest, and they went clattering off up the beach in a great hurry. Jacqueline ran into the house, her head bent to the gale that had begun to blow.

Grandmother suddenly slipped upstairs on feet as silent and fleet as if she had been several decades younger, and she was lying peacefully on her bed taking a nap when Janet tapped at the door to say that lunch was ready.

“I think if you’ll just bring up a cup of tea and a bit of toast, Janet, I’ll not come down just now. I’ve a bit of a headache, and I’ll be better for a rest. You can ask Miss Lammorelle how soon she will be ready for her lunch, but Miss Sheila is away. She may be back in time for dinner tonight; I’m not sure. I’ll let you know later about setting the table.”

In great dismay and trepidation, Janet went downstairs.

Janet was too sharp a maiden to think for a minute that Grandmother’s calm statement comprised the whole of the situation, and her prejudices told her that Miss Lammorelle was somehow at the bottom of all the trouble. But she went obediently downstairs and prepared a tray of the nicest things she could get together to tempt the appetite of the adored old lady.

Then she tapped at the door of her sworn enemy and asked her in alien tones when she would be ready to eat her lunch.

“Why, you can just bring me something up here, Janet,” said Jacqueline. “I’m feeling a little tired, and I want to lie down after my bath. Make me half a dozen of those rolled caviar sandwiches, a nice fruit cup, and some black coffee. Is there any of that blueberry pie left from last night? And some of the jellyroll, too. I think that will do. Don’t forget to put plenty of butter on the sandwiches.”

Janet went downstairs and cut some thick slices of bread, warmed up a saucer of kidney stew, made a cup of tea, found some dry sponge cake left over from last week, cut a small helping of butter, and put an orange on the tray whole. She carried it up and set it down on the floor at Jacqueline’s door, tapped on the door, said, “Here’s yer lunch,” and fled.

When Jacqueline finally got up out of her silken luxury and opened the door, calling in indignation for the maid to obey her commands, Janet was down in the cellar picking up the laundry and couldn’t hear.

Meantime, the storm was well under way, tearing up the coast at many miles an hour, and Grandmother, having swallowed her scalding hot tea, was lying down with closed eyes praying and trying to trust and keep from trembling.

Out into the teeth of the gale rode Angus Galbraith, silver wings flashing against leaden sky, copper lights threatening on every side, wild wind and clouds in a tumult together.

Angus Galbraith had ridden into many skies as threatening, under circumstances demanding endurance and courage and involving sometimes great sums of money, but never had he ridden with sterner face and heart more anxious. Something in the vision of a frail little girl wandering alone upon a windswept beach, where he knew there were sinking sands and treacherous tides that shut off alluring points of land and often engulfed them completely, spurred him anxiously on. He wondered if the dear old lady knew all these possibilities.

Just that morning at the breakfast table, they had talked about the time three children got caught off Loman’s Point and nearly drowned before they were rescued; how a mother and baby asleep in the cove had floated out to sea before they were rescued; men brought their dead bodies back to their desolated home. There had been mention of other cases, and Angus urged his plane low in the teeth of the wind and watched every inch of the beach as he flew. His heart was beating wildly as if he were down there on the beach running, instead of up in the sky flying.

He kept thinking of the lovely girl with the big blue eyes and the way she had looked last night in the fluffy pink dress. Little things she had said, little lights in her face, the quaint turn of a phrase. Such clean, clear eyes, such strong, sweet lips.

What did the horrible fear that clutched at his heart mean? Suppose she were gone, utterly, dropped out of their sight and knowledge forever, either in the sea or in the great wide world, what was it going to be to him, more than if any other girl he had met casually once or twice had been lost? Oh, common humanity would demand a decent interest in anyone whose fate was unknown, but why did he have this ghastly feeling of personal loss and personal fright? Did it mean that he, whom everyone supposed to be thoroughly hardened to all womankind, had at last found a face that could move him?

On up the coast he went, farther and farther, until he knew he was far beyond any point she could have reached in a day’s journey on foot.

Sometimes the storm was so heavy, the sky so black, that it was impossible to see the earth. Sometimes he had to rise far above it, but he combed the coast desperately whenever the weather conditions made it possible.

The storm had increased so rapidly as he went that he began to see he was accomplishing nothing at present and might better get back and see what could be done from the earth.

All the terrible things that might have happened to her began to appear to him, and he forgot that he was going through dangers himself in thinking of the frail girl, perhaps exposed to this awful storm.

As he neared the cliffs, the storm seemed somewhat to have abated, as far as the sky was concerned, and he could better see the coast.

He began to identify the landmarks with which he had become more or less familiar during his few days’ stay and his various flying trips. He wondered if it might be good to go on down the coast. Why had he taken it for granted that she would have walked north? Of course, her grandmother had telephoned the station, and it was likely she would have been seen by someone and reported if she took the way south. Yet perhaps he had better go a few miles down and see.

Then he swept in sight of the cliffs upon which the Galbraith house was built, standing out against the wild sky like a castle on the crags of Scotland.

And there, just below it, was the cove and the tall rocks standing like sentinels in front of it. He thought of the cove. Could she have taken refuge there and got caught? But no, she would long ago have been swept out to sea if that were the case, and no girl in her senses need get caught there in broad daylight, for when the water first began to come in, she could surely wade out and get past the little depression in the land that always filled up first when the tide turned.

Then he noticed that all the tall sentinel rocks were out of sight under water except one, the farthest out to sea and the tallest. He remembered hearing them say that it was only when the sea was tossed by a most terrific storm that that rock was under water. Yet as he came closer, he saw that only the dark top was barely showing. This must have been a storm of more than usual violence, for as he was looking, a great wave engulfed and completely hid the top of the rock for a moment. And then he saw a dark object. Was that somebody on the rock or only a peculiar formation? He could not be sure, but as he got nearer, he looked closely, yet he could not see it move. Perhaps it was just the rock. But his impression had been that that tallest rock was one smooth surface on the top. He had climbed up there this very morning when swimming, just to look off at the majesty of the water.