- Home
- Grace Livingston Hill
The Street of the City Page 2
The Street of the City Read online
Page 2
“Of course. I’ll go at once. Where is it?”
“Number ten Rosemary Lane, a little, old redbrick house across the river from our house. The name is Fernley.”
“All right, I’ll go at once. And I’ll be reporting back to you afterward. Don’t you worry, and don’t think of going out yourself. It would be suicidal for you. There is a glare of ice everywhere, and the wind is bitter. Good-bye! I’m leaving immediately.”
She turned from the telephone and hurried over to the window again, but the skater and the child had disappeared. She stood there a moment watching to see if the young man would be coming back, but the river was empty, no skater in sight either way.
With a sigh she turned away from the window, suddenly aware that she was very cold. She went to the hall closet and took out a warm, soft, old-fashioned shawl, wrapping it close around her, remembering the little shivering child who had come crying for help.
Back at the window there was still no sign of anyone. If only Joseph and Hannah would come she would have them drive her over at once to find out what this was all about anyway. It was hard to have to be helpless and wait. And that poor woman over there dying perhaps. Was the young man staying in the house all this time, or could he possibly have gone by while she was getting her shawl? She could see the river perfectly from the telephone, and she had been watching the window every minute. She hadn’t been a second getting that shawl. Probably he was doing something for the sick woman. Of course. Reviving her perhaps, if it was a faint. But would he know how? Not every young man was versed in first aid in such an emergency. This young man was at the age when he would have recently been away to college. They didn’t have much time to study first aid in college, did they? Although if they were in athletics they might have some experience.
Of course her own boys, if they had been here, would know what to do; at least enough to keep the woman alive if she was still living. And this young man looked like a wise fellow. He had intelligent eyes. Who was he, anyway, and how had he happened to know her name? Had she ever seen him before? The boys nowadays grew up so fast. And then, of course, she hadn’t been around the young people of the neighborhood as much as she used to be when her own boys were at home and had the house full of friends all the time.
How the years raced by her in panorama as she anxiously watched the icy pathway of the river! Oh, if only she hadn’t sent Hannah and Joseph off this particular morning! They could have gone later just as well. What could that skater-boy do anyway for a desperately sick woman, even if he did know enough to bring her back to consciousness?
She wished she could see the little brick house more clearly. The big elm tree in her back yard almost hid its front door. Was that somebody coming out now? Probably if she went out on the kitchen porch the view would be clearer. But no, she mustn’t; the wind was very sharp. She shivered now at the thought of facing it again as when she had called the young man. She mustn’t risk getting bronchitis again. No, she couldn’t go outside without dressing very warmly, and that would take a lot of time. Likely she would fail to see the young man if he came back. But that surely was a car parked by the side of the little brick cottage. Probably the doctor had arrived. And, ah—there was the young man, coming cautiously down the snow toward the river, just as he had walked up her lawn. And now he was dashing out on the ice and skimming along. Probably she had made him late to something, asking him to help. He might be a worker in one of those munitions places and would be late arriving, maybe be docked in his pay or even lose his job. But what else could she have done? She had to call someone, and he was the only one in sight. And he was a gentleman, she was sure of that. He had it written all over him, even in a leather windbreaker. He would never let her know she had inconvenienced him.
If he was late he wouldn’t likely stop to speak to her now, though he had said he would be back. But perhaps the doctor had understood and promised to stop and let her know.
Then she saw him coming, and suddenly he whirled to face her house and came dashing up, stepping in his same footprints as if they were stairs.
She opened the door and stepped out anxiously, but he called, “Don’t come out, Lady Winthrop. The cold is something fierce. I’ll come in. The doctor sent you a message.”
She stepped back into the house, and he was beside her almost at once, taking care, she noted, to keep his skate-shod feet on a rough mat at the door.
“She’s a pretty sick woman,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “It took me some time to bring her to, but the little kid brought some water and told me where to find aromatic ammonia and a few drops of that revived her. I got her on the bed and covered her warmly, rubbed her hands and feet. They were like ice. We put a hot blanket around them. They had a good, warm radiator in the room. That helped to heat the blanket. But we couldn’t find a hot water bag. The doctor said, did you have one or two you could lend him and a couple more blankets? Their goods haven’t all come yet. And the doctor asked if you would please telephone his office boy and ask him to bring over his other medicine bag and get hold of Nurse Branner and bring her right over to the house?”
“Why surely. There’s the telephone; suppose you call the office and talk with the boy while I get the blankets and things. The number is by the phone.”
As she hurried away she heard the young man’s efficient voice giving directions to the doctor’s office boy and rejoiced that she had so able a helper. This young man was going to stand right by as long as he was needed. Then she heard him coming down the hall after her, walking very carefully, not to damage her floor.
“Can’t I help you?” he asked, and he stepped gingerly up and took the blankets from her, then reached for the two hot water bags that were set so neatly together on a high shelf in the bathroom.
“Thank you,” said the old lady. “And now suppose we fill these bags from the teakettle in the kitchen. I happen to know it is full of hot water and standing over the burner. You can wrap the blankets around the bags and that will keep them hot and save a lot of time.”
“That’s a good idea!” said the young man. “You’ve been through a lot of sickness in your lifetime and you know what to do.”
“Well, I couldn’t have done much if you hadn’t responded to my call. And it couldn’t have been easy walking up that hill with skates on, either.”
The young man grinned and, turning, was soon plunging down the hillside, the big blanket-wrapped bundle held firmly as he sprang out on the ice and went skimming away again. What a fellow he was! How wise and brisk and efficient!
Lady Winthrop found she was quite weak with excitement when he was gone, and she sat down suddenly to rest and get her breath.
“Well,” she said aloud to herself, “to think all this would happen the first time when I was alone. If Joe were only here with the car I’d have been over there myself long ago seeing what I could do to help that poor woman. And now here I am, just a go-between. But perhaps that’s needed just now more than anything else, to do the telephoning.”
Then she got to thinking about that little brick house up the river and the people who had just moved in. Would they have plenty to eat? Food fit for a sick woman? The sick mother and the little girl who had come across the icy way alone. She must see what food was quickly available in the refrigerator, in case somebody came back again. At least she could send it over by Joseph when he got back. Neither the woman nor the little girl would be able to do any cooking, of course.
There was a good bowl of chicken soup Hannah made last night. She always made enough for two or three days. And there would be some chicken breast, of course; there always was. She decided to fill one Thermos bottle with the hot soup, and the other with hot coffee. So she went to work, making delicate little chicken sandwiches, heating the soup and the coffee, and working happily in her own kitchen, where her faithful servants had not allowed her to lift a finger to work for years. It was fun, she told herself.
Yet all the time she was watching o
ut the kitchen window, looking for somebody to come down the river. She worked swiftly to be ready if anyone came. And then she saw her young knight come out of the brick cottage and down the icy pathway, and she hurried into the living room to be ready to open the front door for him in case he came up again.
He came. With that grave, competent smile on his face.
“She’s recovered consciousness fully now,” he announced as he stepped inside the room and shut the door after him. “The doctor isn’t sure yet how serious it is, but at least she is able to speak. He says it looks to him as if it might be merely a case of exhaustion from having worked too hard on too little food. Of course the heart might be more affected then he can tell at present, but he hopes it isn’t serious. And the first thing that woman said when she came to herself was, ‘Don’t let my daughter know I fainted. Please don’t! She’ll be so worried, and she mustn’t lose her job! I’ll be all right now.’ The nurse is going to try to make something for her to eat, but there doesn’t seem to be much that’s suitable in the house. The doctor told me to ask if you can spare a little milk for immediate use. The child says her mother ate no breakfast this morning.”
“Milk? Why certainly! Here’s a whole bottle. Wait, I’ll get a basket. I have some other things ready. Coffee and chicken soup in Thermos bottles, and some chicken sandwiches. I thought that mother had been too used up to do much cooking. And here, put in a loaf of bread and a carton of butter. Some oranges, too, might come in handy.”
“That’s great, Lady Winthrop, I’m sure they’ll all come in for use and everybody grateful, including the nurse and doctor. I don’t think the people are exactly poor, just pretty hard up for the present, moving expenses and the like. The daughter has a job down at the first munitions plant. She hadn’t had it but a week or so, and I judge from the few words the mother said that she’s afraid she might lose it if she came home to look after her mother.”
“Poor child!” said the old lady. “I wish I might go over and help. I will when my car gets back. You see, I had a bad fall and sprained my knee and strained my ankle and I can’t walk very far, especially on snow and ice. I have to go everywhere in my car. It is providential that you came along. You’ve been wonderful!”
“Oh, I haven’t done much. I’m glad you called me.”
“Yes? Well, you see, I was watching for you. I’ve seen you go skating by on the river for several days. I knew you hadn’t gone by yet but it was your usual time, so I just watched for you. I hoped maybe you’d come. Who are you, anyway? Ought I to know your name? You seem to know mine.”
The young man smiled.
“No, you wouldn’t remember me. I’m Mrs. Haversett’s nephew, Val Willoughby. I stayed here with my aunt Mrs. Haversett for a year when I was a kid, while my mother was receiving treatment with a specialist in Vienna. I’ve been here several times since for a few days at a time. But I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me. It was a good many years ago. When Mother came back we went to the West Coast to live, and my trips east since have been brief and hurried.”
Lady Winthrop was studying the young man’s face, and gradually comprehension came to her eyes.
“Willoughby! Oh, you were little Valiant Willoughby, weren’t you? Yes, I remember the sturdy little boy with the round eyes and wide grin. It was your eyes and your grin that made you seem familiar when you came up the hill. And what are you doing here now? Visiting your aunt again?”
“Well, not exactly visiting. I’m staying at my aunt’s, of course, but I’m here for work now, not fun. I have a job down at the airplane factory.”
“Oh, you have! Well, aren’t you going to be very late to it? And it’s all my fault, of course.”
“Well, yes, I’ll be later than usual. But I’m in a way my own boss. Nobody will say anything. I’ll explain, of course, that it was an emergency, though I’m not really answerable to anyone but myself. But I guess I had better get going. They’ll be needing these things across the river, and then the doctor thought I had better stop and tell the daughter. She might blame us for not letting her know. The doctor feels it might be serious later, perhaps, although he thinks when the woman gets something to eat she may rally and be really on the mend. He says she’s probably been going on her nerve for several days. Perhaps longer. Well, so long! I’ll be seeing you again. I’ll let you know tonight how things go.”
She watched the young man striding down the snowy way on those treacherous-looking skates. How nimbly he trotted down that crusted slope! How skillfully he skimmed out upon the glassy surface of the river and went on his way with the basket balanced so easily on one arm.
She watched him out of sight, till presently she saw him returning, and when he neared the foot of the hill he lifted his cap in a courteous bow and pointed on down the stream. He was hurrying now to the city.
She opened her door and waved a frail hand in acknowledgment and got another wave from the cap in his hand as he turned and sailed off toward Hemlock Rocks.
Chapter 2
When Frances Fernley was ready to go to her job that morning she turned back and looked at her mother.
“Oh Mother, I wish you’d promise me something. Promise me you won’t do a bit of work until I get back. There are hardly any dishes, and Bonnie can do those. I promised her she might, and you know she’s very careful handling them. Besides, the ones we are using are just the old cracked ones anyway, and even if one broke it wouldn’t be much loss. Now Mother, you will go right upstairs and lie down and get a real sleep, won’t you? I’m so worried about you. And you know I can’t keep my mind on my work when I’m worried. If you would just promise me I know you wouldn’t break your word. Please, Mummie!”
“All right,” said the mother with a weak shimmer of a smile on her tired, worried face.
“You know the rest of the goods will probably come late this afternoon,” went on the girl, “and we all want to be fresh and rested to get things in apple pie order before we sleep. You know you can do a lot more if you are really rested, Mother. And there isn’t so much that needs doing now before the other furniture gets here. You take a good long nap on your bed, and then about eleven o’clock you and Bonnie run over to the store and get what we’ll need for dinner. That’s enough for you to do today. Will you really do that, Mother?”
“Why yes, surely I’ll rest. Now run along quick, Frannie, or you’ll be late for your work.”
So the girl had stooped and kissed her mother, and then gone carefully down the wooden steps to the ice, stopping to make sure the lacing of her skates was fastened firmly, then went skimming off down the ice, looking back to wave good-bye and blow a kiss to Bonnie at the window.
As she went skimming along in the bright morning air her thoughts were with her white-faced mother whom she realized was working too hard. It was all too evident. She tried to think how she might make these few hard days at the beginning easier for her. Of course, she could have stayed at home today and helped more, but she had a good job with an amazing salary for such a young beginner as she was, and both she and her mother felt they must not trifle with it, especially not now right at the beginning of things. A little later when she was sure of herself and could take some time to help get settled, perhaps she could find a young girl who would come in to do some of the heavier work, or a stronger, older woman to take the burden from her mother. For the mother had warned her that they must not spend any more of their tiny capital in hiring help until it was absolutely necessary, and until Frannie was sure she was going to be satisfactory to her boss and that her job was dependable. She must not take success as an assured thing until she had been tried out by her superior.
So, against her strong intuitions she had gone away that morning, hoping that all would be well until she got back and resolving to inquire around and find out whether there was a woman she could get who would be right for them. Maybe some of the women who lived in those smaller houses over in that far row. And yet those houses must, of course, be filled
with people who had money, for they had to be bought. They were not for rent. And that took money, more down payment than they owned. The little tumbledown brick where they lived was quite old and just ready to fall apart or they would not have been able to rent it.
Another thing that worried her was that they had no close neighbors. Those houses in that far row were at such a distance that she was not sure if they were even finished. Maybe nobody lived in them yet. That made her a little uneasy to leave her mother and sister alone all day. Suppose something happened! There would be nobody nearby to go to for help. But of course nothing would happen. Not in the daytime. And pretty soon they would get a telephone so Mother wouldn’t have to go to the store for groceries. The store was five blocks away. But they had been so delighted at the idea of living near the river. It would be so lovely in the summer. And now, too, all frozen this way, it was wonderful, and it was saving her carfare, too. She was going to get Bonnie a pair of skates and teach her to skate. She was not too young to learn. When she got home this evening she would look in some of the big boxes that had come yesterday and see if possibly her own first skates weren’t there somewhere. The ones her dear father had taught her to skate on so very long ago.
So she hurried along, over the smooth ice, so glad the way was clear, so glad it had not snowed in the night. It was wonderful weather; five whole days, ever since they had moved, there had been clear, cold weather. Of course it couldn’t last much longer, and then she would have to start earlier to walk to the bus that would take her to the plant.