Treasured Brides Collection (30 page)

Then out they stepped, the president of the bank with his only son, and a wild cry burst from the mob in the street. One moment they stood there, side-by-side, then the president of the bank raised his hand and the mob hushed for an instant, just one breathless moment. And while the silence hung in space, before it should break into chaos, Christopher Walton Sr. spoke.

“Friends,” he said, and his voice was steady and clear so that it was heard to the utmost edge of the crowd.

Then from across the street there came a missile, swift and hard and sure, aimed straight for the brave man’s face. It was Chris who saw what was coming and drew his father aside, just a hair’s breadth. The ball of slime and mud hit harmlessly the grill of the door before which he stood, and glanced off, only spattering his face. But even then he did not waver. He merely took out his white handkerchief and wiped away the mud from his cheek and eyes, and then lifted his hand again for silence.

The sheer bravery of the act silenced the crowd again for an instant, and while it lasted he spoke.

“Friends, I am here to tell you that you will get back every penny of your savings just as soon as it is possible. I personally pledge to give up all I have, my home and personal property, and I know the directors will do the same. This thing has come about through a circumstance which is just as surprising and heartbreaking to us as to you, and to the last cent we have, we’ll make good. We ask you to go quietly to your homes, and within a few days, just as soon as it is physically possible to find out the extent of our trouble and our resources, we’ll communicate with every one of our depositors and let them know what is coming to them. We ask your cooperation, and it is to our mutual benefit to work together.”

He paused an instant and glanced down at his son, standing so straight and tall beside him, almost reaching his father’s height; then he added, with the first smile that had lightened his sorrowful features all that day, “My son is here beside me to say that if anything happens to his father before his promise is made good, he stands ready to see that it is fulfilled. Isn’t that so, Chris?”

“It sure is, Dad,” answered the son, with a clear ring in his voice.

Then the crowd, always ready to be swayed either way, broke into a cheer, and some of the women openly wept.

Only on the outer edge of the crowd, where the policemen were quietly handcuffing a youth with slime on his hands, was there a low menacing undertone, like a growl of distant thunder.

Then a hand drew the father and son within the sheltering doors again, and most of the crowd turned and drifted slowly, hesitatingly, away.

Sometime later, a closed car drove up around the corner of the alley, back of the bank, and took the Waltons and two of the bank directors to their homes. And the region about the bank, and the streets where they had to pass, were well patrolled.

Mrs. Walton was in a high state of excitement when they finally arrived at home.

“Where have you both been?” she cried tearfully. “I’ve been so worried. I thought there had been a terrible accident and you were both killed. I even tried to telephone the bank, but got no answer except that the wire was busy. I thought I should go crazy.”

“Oh,” said the older Walton sympathetically, “that was because so many people were calling up constantly. I’m so sorry. I never dreamed that you would be worried yet, and I did not want to tell you until it was necessary, not until I could come home and explain it myself. My dear, we have been passing through terrible times this morning.” He passed a frail hand over his furrowed forehead and looked at her with weary eyes. Chris, watching him, seemed to see him suddenly grow old before his eyes. He saw his mother put her hand hastily over her heart in quick premonition, and while his father explained about the run on the bank, it all swept over him what it was going to mean to his mother to lose her home and be poor. Gosh, that was tough on Mother! His little pretty mother! It suddenly came to him that he must somehow stand between her and this so great calamity.

Then, amazingly, he saw her face relax, her fears drop away, her face grow calm, and almost a smile come out upon her lips.

“Oh, is that all?” she said with great relief. “I thought you must have some awful sickness or a stroke, or you were going to have to have a terrible operation.”

Suddenly Chris began to laugh.

“Oh, Mother,” he cried, “excuse me, but—why!—you’re only afraid of the things you imagine, things you get up yourself out of nothing! When it comes to real things, Muz, you’ve got nerve. I’ll say you’re a real little old hero!”

“But Mary,” said the father anxiously, “you don’t understand. It will mean that we will have to give up our house and all the beautiful things you have gathered through the years, rugs and jewels and pictures—”

“Of course,” said Mother, nonchalantly. “Why speak about such trifles. We’ve been poor before. Besides, don’t you remember what the minister said on Sunday, that we must thank God for the hard things that come into our lives as well as for the nice things? There’s probably some wise reason in all this, and maybe by and by we’ll see it. Come on, now, let’s go to dinner. It’s waited long enough. And it’s a good dinner, beefsteak and mushrooms. If we’re not going to be able to afford such things anymore, we can at least enjoy this one—unless, Christopher, you think we ought to give this dinner to some creditor?” she asked with a twinkle.

Christopher Senior took his wife in a tender embrace and smiled, his whole anxious face relaxing, and Chris Junior murmured as he turned away to brush aside a strange blurring that came into his eyes. “Gosh, Mother, you’re a whiz! Who’d ever think you’d take it like that?”

“But I’m getting old, Mother,” said the banker wistfully. “It’s not as if I could begin all over again.”

“So am I,” said Mother cheerfully. “But Chris is young, and an old head and a young head together are more than twice as good as a young head making young mistakes. Come, hurry and carve that steak!”

And, surprisingly, they sat down at that belated dinner, laughing.

If the prowler in the shrubbery outside the dining room window heard that laughter, it perhaps only added fuel to the fire in his heart, his angry heart that wanted his money, wanted it tonight, and meant to get it, somehow, soon.

It was not until Chris got up to his own room a couple of hours later, for they had lingered, talking it out and clinging together for reassurance, that he suddenly realized what this change of circumstances was going to mean to him. On the bed lay a pennant in flaming colors bearing the name of his college. He had bought it today to give to Gilda to put on her wall, and now he was not going back to college.

He was filled with the consternation of this fact as he finally put out his light and opened his window, and he failed to see the lurking figure with the menacing pale face in the hedge beyond the rhododendrons. He got into his bed and began to look his misfortunes in the face, and it was not till those still deep, dark hours toward morning that he fell into a light sleep.

And suddenly a shot rang out, almost in the room, and he sprang out of bed in alarm.

W
hen Natalie Halsey entered the house after watching Chris drive off, she tiptoed softly down the little dark hall and cautiously opened the door into the kitchen to lay down her bundles on the kitchen table. Then she peered through the half-open door into the front room, which had been temporarily converted into a bedroom during her mother’s sickness. The house boasted of but four rooms, two upstairs and two down, with a little lean-to shed for a laundry.

“Yes?” said a quick, alert voice from the shadows of the sick room, and Natalie threw the door open wide and gave a cheerful little laugh.

“I can’t move without your hearing me, can I, Mother dear!” she said, coming to let the brightness of the day in. “I hoped you would have a good long sleep while I was gone. You scarcely slept a wink all night, and you simply have to make it up, you know, or you’ll have a relapse. Didn’t you even get a nap at all this morning?”

“Oh yes,” said the invalid indifferently. “I think I did, but I kept one ear open for your coming.” She gave a funny, brave little laugh as if it were not a matter of importance. “I’m really not tired, you know. I’m quite rested. And I’ve decided to get up today and go to work. I’ve got to finish that hemstitching for Mrs. Baker.”

“Now, Mother, look here. You’ve got to behave,” cried Natalie firmly. “You’re not getting up until the doctor says so, and even then unless you are good. As for that hemstitching, I may as well tell you that Janice finished it weeks ago and took it to Mrs. Baker, and she was wonderfully pleased with it and paid for it right away. So you don’t need to think of work yet awhile.”

The mother gave her a startled look.

“The dear child,” she said tenderly. “Was that what she was doing so quietly when I was supposed to be asleep? And I thought she was studying.”

“Oh, she studied, too,” said Natalie cheerfully.

“But”—the mother’s eyes had a worried look—“the money must be all gone. I can’t see how you have kept things up—and gotten luxuries, too. I know you two have just starved yourselves.”

“Do we look starved?” chirped Natalie cheerily. “Mother, you just quit worrying and I’ll tell you some good news. Listen. I’ve got a job! Not just a little snatch of work, but a real job with a regular salary and hours. I start on Monday morning at eight o’clock sharp! Now, will you be good?”

“Oh, Natalie! Child! Where is it?”

“Well, maybe you won’t like it so well, but it’s really a good job, and easy hours, and quite respectable and nice. Just think how wonderful it will be not to have to worry from one six months to another. And then not know whether the dividend we ought to get from our one-and-only is really coming or not.”

“Tell me, dear! Where is it?”

“Well, it’s cashier in the grocery store. Now, Mother, don’t look that way. It’s a really lovely store, clean and light and airy, and the nicest, courteous manager. He treats me like a queen. He’s having my little glass den all painted up new for me and getting me a stool that will be comfortable. He’s married, and kind, and he says his wife told him that it made all the difference in the world what kind of stool the cashier had, whether she got tired and cross or not.”

Mrs. Halsey made a little sound of a moan.

“Oh, Natalie, my baby! To think of your having to work in a store with a lot of rough men! Oh, how badly your father would feel if he knew we had come to that! He was so particular about his dear girls.”

“Nonsense, Mother!” said Natalie, a trifle sharply because of the sudden lump that came in her throat and threatened tears. “Father would be glad I had the chance of such a nice place. They are not rough men, any of them. They are just nice boys that work so hard they haven’t time to look at anybody. It’s mostly ladies that I’ll have to do with. People who come shopping. I’ll be sort of shut away in a little glass room, you know, and people come to the window with their checks and money. I think it’ll be fun, Mother. You know I always could make change accurately, and anyway, there’s a machine to do it. It will be just nothing but fun.”

“You’re a brave little girl,” said her mother, wiping away a few tears with a feeble hand.

“There, now, Mother dear, just stop those sob-tears this minute. This is nothing to be sad about. Just be glad. Why, Mother, I thought you taught me that God takes care of us and nothing that He does not allow can come to people who are His own. Don’t you think He can take care of me as well in a grocery store as in a fine parlor?”

“Oh yes,” sighed the sick woman. “Of course, but—”

“But it’s not the way you would like it done? Is that it, Mother? Well, say! Don’t you think He loves me as much as you do? Come, Mother dear. Cheer up. We’re on the road to wealth. Can’t you rejoice with me?”

“Oh yes,” said the mother, fetching a watery little smile. “You’re a good girl.”

“No, I’m not particularly good. Don’t make the mistake of overestimating my worth,” said Natalie comically. “I’m quite natural and normal as a human girl. I envied Gilda Carson this morning. She was out with a great lovely hound on a chain. I’d teach him to run alongside and never stray away or bark at other dogs. Say, Mother, you don’t know how I came home just now, do you? Did you happen to hear me arrive? I just came home in a wonderful new car, with a perfectly good, handsome young man. I wish you had been at the window just to see how fine I was. He asked me to take a ride, too, only I knew I had to get the soup on for dinner, so I declined.”

“A young man?” said the mother fearfully. “Oh, Natalie,
who
?”

“Oh, you needn’t sigh like that, Mother. He was perfectly all right. He has the reputation of being as good as he is good-looking. It wasn’t a tramp nor a drummer, not anybody wild from down on the Flats. It was the son of the president of our bank, if you please. Christopher Walton, with a brand-new car that his father has given him to take back to college.”

“Natalie! How did he happen to ask you?”

“Oh, he just rode alongside the sidewalk and asked me if he could give me a lift. You know I had some groceries, and I suppose I may have looked overburdened,” said Natalie, taking half the joy out of her unexpected ride by this flat facing of facts. “He’s always been noted for his kindliness.”

“That was—
nice
of him,” said the mother thoughtfully. “That’s the kind of young man you might naturally have had for a friend, if all things had gone well with us and your father had lived. Of course, he wouldn’t think so now, though. He wouldn’t know from present appearances that your father was just as good as his.”

“Oh, Mother, don’t talk that way!” said Natalie, with a sudden, brief impatience. “We all had Adam for a remote grandfather, anyway. What’s the difference about family?”

“Because—dear child, you don’t understand. But class really means a lot to most people. It probably does to him. Most young men in his station in life would only look upon one in your position as someone to condescend to.”