HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Advance-Times, 1940-12-19, Page 19WINGHAM ADVANCE-TIMES.PAGE ELEVEN
At that moment footsteps sounded
on the porch and the bell tinkled
brightly, “Joel!” exclaimed Sue, “and
Jinny! Do come in, both of you!”
They cotJldn’t come way in, Joel
said, because they were caked with
snow- They wanted Dusty and Sue
. to cpme out, Dakin Hijl was marvel
ous. It was a moonlit night and Joel
had rigged up the old bobsled he and
Dusty had had when they were boys.
, “We’ll carry Sue up the hill, Gran,”
Joel shouted in the living room. “And
she and Jinny can ride over. She
doesn’t need to take a step.”
The still air was like wine, and the
runners, dusty from disuse, squeaked
on the hard-packed sidewalk as Dusty
and Joel pulled it along, their breath
blowing back in white steamy plumes.
The moon, which was round and full,
.threw a white light over the snow-
covered roofs; the white lawns in
which stood old evergreens thickly
furred and heavy with snow. Sue had
• her mittened hands around Jinny’s
j. waist, while Jinny bent her head for
ward because the sled was travelling
so fast.
There were others bobsledding on
Dakin hill, dim figures in the moon
light. A squeal of laughter went up
after they were all seated and the sled
gathered speed, throwing back a fine
snow dust on its way down the slip
pery hill.
The earth, Sue thought as she grip
ped Joel in front of her and felt Jin
ny tighten her hold from behind, prac
tically dropped out from under. The
first time her stomach was weak and
queasy, but as the air ceased rushing
past her and they slowed to a stop,
she wanted to to do it again. It was
one of the things Sue had missed in
her childhood.
“You haven’t ever coasted on Dakin
Hill before, and you’ve lived in White
Creek all your childhood?” Jinny ask
ed incredulously.
Sue shook, her head. "Gran was ner
vous about it and I didn't have any
brothers to take me, so I had to be
content with a tobaggon slide built
in the back yard, which was scarcely
exciting.”
. She jumped up from the sled and
insisted on walking up the hill.
“But we have to pull the bobsled
up anyway,” said Joel. “You may as well ride,” Sue announced. “If i
am. going to regain my strength, I’ll
have to exercise.”
> Joel caught her by the sleeve and
tried to put her on the bobsled, but
she laughingly eluded .him and he
dashed after her. Dusty took hold of
the rope. “Come on, Jinny,” he said,
we’ll pull it up while the children'
play.”
Jinny grasped the rope and fell in
beside him as he started up the hill.
“I hope you’ll be nice to Sue," Dusty
said as they climbed. “She needs
friends right now, as well as new in
terests. She doesn’t know it yet, but
she will never sing again. Her voice
is gone forever. And the only thing
for her to do is to stay in White
Creek until she is perfectly well.” He
talked about Sue all the way to the
top of the hill.
Joel and Sue came ‘lagging behind.
At first they walked along briskly,
both selfconscious and a little embar
rassed at being left alone. But as
they began to ascend the slope and
Sue was unable to keep up with Joel,
he took her by the arm. “Let me
give you a lift,” he said.
At the touch of his hand Sue’s
heart began to beat so violently she
could feel the throbbing in her ears.
Her breath came in gasps. “Joel,” she
said hesitantly, ’’for a long time I ’ve
•been waiting to ask you something.
Were you at the hospital when I was
so terribly sick?”
“Sure I was. I hung around most
of the time.”
“Did you bend over the bed and say
something to me?”
“Oh, I said lots of things to you.”
Joel tried to speak casually.
“Did you bend over the bed—with
your face very close—and tell me that
you-loved me? Or was it a drcam?”
Joel kicked the snow as he walked
along. " I don’t remember all that
I said to you. And what difference
does it make, anyway? Call it a dream
if you want to.”“I don’t want to call it a dream. I
want to know the truth.”
“Whatever makes you think I’d say
that to you?” asked Joel harshly.
Her voice was low. “Because I
heard you. I know you said it.”
“Girls make me sick,” Joel said.
“Last night you accepted Dusty’s ring
and tonight you’re trying to trap me
into admitting that I said I loved you.
Is that the way to act behind his
back?”Sue’s eyes were blazing with finger.
“So that’s the way you feel about me,
is it?” Without another word they
returned tojthe bobsled and took their
places.
“Let’s go!” shouted Dusty, and gave
an energetic shove. He hurled him
self on to the rear end where he. could
handle the brake.
The bobsled was off like a rocket,
but Joel had felt the guiding sled
turned slightly to the left, and when
he attempted to straighten it, the un
wieldy craft skidded dangerously to
the right. Dusty reached for the brake
but found it jammed with snow and,
as he struggled to release it, the bob
sled took another course down the
steep slope, gathering speed as it went.
As Joel pulled out of one skid it went
almost instantly into another and fin
ally ended in a ditch with a grinding
crash.Dusty had dropped off as he felt
the sled’ start on its final dive. Jinny
rolled clear a moment later, but Joel
and Sue took the full impact. Jinny
was the first to regain her feet. Then
“In fact, if you must know, I feel all my life up to this moment has been
a stupid waste of time.”
Joel rose like a showman, rubbing
the snow from his face and slapping
it from his mittens. Sue lay motion
less. Joel was at her side in what
seemed to Jinny a single move. He
raised Sue in his arms with a tender-
erness of which Jinny had thought
him incapable, saying softly, “Are you
hurt, Sue, are you hurt?”
If Sue answered, Jinny did not hear
her, although nothing else escaped
her. She, saw Sue’s eyes open—saw
her lips move—saw Joel’s face bend
ing down to them. Then she saw Dus
ty stride toward Joel. The next thing
she knew Joel was sprawling in the
snow and Dusty had Sue in his arms.
CHAPTER XIX
“Well,” said Gran, giving her hair
a final brush before tying on her bon
net, “I can’t see why you’re in such a
hurry. You’ve got the rest of your
life to live with him.”
“Yes,” said Sue, sitting in Gran’s
old rocker by the window. "But I’d
like to have it announced right away.”
"Now where did 1 put my gaiters?”
Gran wanted to kn’ow, searching in
her closet.“Couldn’t we have a tea on Sun
day?”
"Christmas is only a week away.
Can’t you wait till after Christmas?”
Sue got up and put her hard young
arms around her small grandmother.
"Oh, Granny, please, please! We have
all that fruit cake and we could serve
tea and wine to a very few people.
And—and—then we could send a not
ice to the White Creek Star.”
“Hmm.” Gran sat down on a plump
chair opposite Sue. ’ “Now mind you,
I’m pleased enough to have Dustin
Paine for a grandson-in-law. For a
while I was kinda scared you’d come
back with one of them furriners—the
way your letters sounded. But . I’m
proud enough to want to do it right.
I Can’t see any reason for rushing
matters. I can’t see that, it’s a-goin’
to make any difference in the long
run whether it’s in this week’s Star
or next week’s.”
“Oh, dear!” said Sue, “You see,
Dusty will be here Sunday and he
could meet everyone—”
“Nobody in White Creek needs to
be introduced to Dusty Paine. But I
want you to.be perfectly sure the man
you are a’choosin’ is the one you real
ly want. And if you go tearin’ ahead
like this, how’ll you ever have time
to find out?”
“I don’t believe I’ll ever be any sur
er than I am now.” Sue looked into
Gran’s old dark yes with her honest
blue ones.
“We-ell, I might give' a small tea.
But they wouldn’t get much but tea.
I’ve still got a turkey to stuff.”
“Oh, Gran, you will! You wanted
to be coaxed, didn’t you?”
“Mebbe, but let me tell you here
and now, Lucy Gilbert ain’t the one
to take these goin’s-on lightly. She’ll
be rarin’ around here before we get
the tree trimmed, mark my words.”
“She needs stirring and airing,” Sue
said. “All these years she’s grown as
moldy as a—”
“An old lot of maple syrup,” sup
plied Gran cheerfully.
In the end Gran refused to have the
invitations telephoned — a modern
touch which seemed to her like a real
breach of etiquette. So Sue and Dus
ty, warmly wrapped in an ancient bear
robe that still smelled a little of the
barn and the carriages, were driven
around White Creek by Sam O’Toole,
of O’Toole’s Garage, in the car which
Gran occasionally hired for her form
al calls. At almost every other house
they dropped the neat white cards en
graved, "Mrs. Dexter Bass Graves,”
on which Sue in her square black
script had added “Tea—4-6,” and the
date.
One of their stops was halfway up
Pentecost Hill, which was enough of
an eminence so that White Creek
spread out below them like a map.
From here one could see the casual
winding streets along which the hous
es, with their overhanging old trees,
were clustered. White Creek itself,
now a mere icy line on the map, me
andered at one end, and here were
the ancient stone, buildings of the
mills. Fallen into disuse, the elabor
ate gingerbread Paine house, in its
day a mansion of some elegance,
stood staring out into the snow with
the vacant eyes of broken window
panes.Dusty said, “To look at it now is
to sec with detachment the grave
stone of one’s whole, family. One it
was the center of White Creek. Once
that house was lived in, and admired,
and pointed out, Most of the time it
is to me as if .it had never been. It
has the quality of a dream. But at
this very moment it has a kind of
meaning. I think because you are here
—so alive and so well—and because
Gran has preserved the flavor of that
time so remarkably. It Is good to
think that our grandfathers, who had
so much to do.with btjilding this town
might be looking down out of a hea
venly peephole,, smilihg at the possib
ility of a certain kind of immortality
in our children.”
Sue smiled. “That would do for the
Don’t Give It Another Thought De
partment.”
But Dusty was not the only one to
whom this occurred. The engage
ment tea stirred the society editor of
the White Creek Star to inspired
flights of rhetoric. It caused her to
dig in the old records of the ancient
newspaper, and she presented two
very fair columns of the history of
the town, beginning with the grant
from the crown of the first land to
the first Graves. She told an anec
dote or two concerning the Indians,
several Revolutionary tales which ev
eryone knew, and ended the first part
of her story with the observation that
these two families, the industrial
Paines and the merchandising Graves,
had built the town to its present size.
She was off on less sure ground when
it came to describing the achieve
ments of the present generation. Nor
was she any better off when it came
to describing the refreshments and the '
material of Sue’s gown. So, rather
lamely, she ended with a complete list
in fine print of all the invited guests.
The old parlor was aired, the heavy
curtains taken down and brushed free
of imaginary dust. Sue herself wiped '
the glass bells which covered oddly
branched coral and hair flowers and
filled the lovely old bowls with quan
tities of yellow roses, softly peach-col- ’
ored in their centers. The sliding-
doors into the rear living room were
pushed back, and a long table skirted
to the floor in glossy old linen held a
brave array of silver urns with blue
alcohol flames burning underneath,
and plates heaped with sandwiches
and cakes.
It was an event of social magnitude
in White Creek. Not in years had peo
ple been invited to the carefully se
cluded old house with its high hedges
and shrubs, and the tall trees which
kept if perpetually in shadow. Almost
a generation had passed since the
walls of the old parlor and the oil
portraits had looked down on such a
gathering. Although Gran had an oc
casional guest for tea and, two or
three times a year, entertained at din
ner the rector of St. Stephen’s-in-the-
Woods, the small church which she
festivity had been on Sue’s eighteenth
still faithfully attended, the last real
birthday. And then, though a few of
Sue’s White . Creek contemporaries
had been invited, her classmates at
boarding school made up the bulk of
the party.
“They’ll be married in June and not
before,” Gran announced. “The cere
mony will be held in the old summer
ho'use just as her mother’s was. And
if Sue don’t bust it in two with her
strong young body, .she’ll wear her .
mother’s wedding gown and the veil
of heirloom lace.”
“That goes with me,” said Dusty
in an undertone to Joel. “Long time
to wait and all that, but I don’t mind
being a little sentimental. You would
be too, if you were marrying Sue.”
Joel escaped from the party and
went for a long walk. Late in the ev
ening he appeared at Jinny’s door.
Jinny let him in with a glad cry. “I
thought you were with Dusty,” she
said.
Joel went over to the fire and held
out his hands. “Jinny, let’s get mar
ried at once. Then we can go away.
We’ll go south, or to Bermuda, or
somewhere. White Creek’s so darned
cold in winter.”
"But, Joel, our house — the mills
— everything—”
“I’ve been thinking about all those
things. Opening the mills on my own
would be crazy when you get right
down to the -facts of the matter. I
haven’t told you before, but I can
lease them to Warren, the big toy
manufacturer. And there’s a doctor
who wants to rent the old Paine
house for a sanatorium. If all that
goes through, we’ll have an adequate
income without working ourselves to
the bone.” *
"Joel, dear,” Jinny said very slow
ly, "what is the matter? What has
happened?”
“Nothing!” He put his arm- around
her. "Everything is all right.” .
After a moment Jinny drew back
and looked up at him. J'Joel, don’t —
don’t you love md arty more? Some
thing’s wrong. Please tell me. Is
there—is there someone else?” • .
"No,” said Joel, and he wondered
then if he were lying or not. “Let’s
get married soon, Jinny.”
Jinny’s face was white, framed by
her dark hair. “No, Joel, we can’t get
married this way.”.
He put his face in his hands. “Oh,-
Jinny! Jinny, dear. I didn’t meah td
h-ttrt you. You have no idea how much
I respect you. And I love you-—only
I’m afraid it’s not enough to make