The sun was coming out bravely now, and already he felt its warmth in the garden. Everywhere the fog was rising, was fading against the green of the trees. He followed a delicious odor of wood smoke and the sound of voices, to the barnyard, and here found the lady of the house, with her inevitable accompaniment of interested children. Sidney was managing an immense brush fire with a long pole; her gingham skirt pinned back trimly over a striped petticoat, her cheeks flushed, her hair riotous under a gipsy hat.
At Barry"s first word she dropped her pole, her whole face grew radiant, and she came toward him holding out both her hands.
"Barry!" she said eagerly, her eyes trying to read his face, "how glad I am you"ve come! We didn"t know how to reach you. You"ve heard, of course--! You"ve seen--?"
"The poor old MAIL? Yes, I"m just from there," he said soberly. "Can we talk?"
"As long as you like," she answered briskly. And after some directions to the children, she led him to the little garden seat below the side porch, and they sat down. "Barry, you look tired," she said then. "Do you know, I don"t know where you"ve been all these days, or what you went for? Was it to San Francisco?"
"San Francisco, yes," he a.s.sented, "I didn"t dream I"d be there so long." He rubbed his forehead with a weary hand. "I"ll tell you all about it presently," he said. "I had a letter from my wife"s mother that worried me, and I started off at half-c.o.c.k, I got worrying--but of course I should have written you--"
"Don"t bother about that now, if it distresses you," she said quickly and sympathetically. "Any time will do for that. I--I knew it was something serious," she went on, relief in her voice, "or you wouldn"t have simply disappeared that way! I--I said so. Barry, are you hungry?"
He tried to laugh at the maternal att.i.tude that was never long absent in her, but the tears came into his eyes instead. After all the strain and sleeplessness and despondency, it was too poignantly sweet to find her so simply cheering and trustful, in her gipsy dress, with the brightening sunlight and the sweet old garden about her. Barry could have dropped on his knees to bury his face in her skirts, and feel the motherly hands on his hair, but instead he admitted honestly to hunger and fatigue.
Sidney vanished at once, and presently came back followed by her black cook, both carrying a breakfast that Barry was to enjoy at once under the rose vines. Sidney poured his coffee, and sat contentedly nibbling toast while he fell upon the cold chicken and blackberries.
"Now," said her heartening voice, "we"ll talk! What is to be done first about the MAIL?"
"No insurance, you know," he began at once. "We never did carry any in the old days and I suppose that"s why I didn"t. So that makes it a dead loss. Worse than that--for I wasn"t clear yet, you know. The safe they carried out; so the books are all right, I suppose, although they say we had better not open it for a few days. Then I can settle everything up as far as possible. And after that--well, I"ve been thinking that perhaps Barker, of the San Francisco TELEGRAM might give me a start of some sort--" He rumpled his hair with a desperate gesture. "The thing"s come on me like such a thunderbolt that I really haven"t thought it out!" he ended apologetically.
"The thing"s come on you like such a thunderbolt," she echoed cheerfully, "that you aren"t taking it like yourself at all! The question, is if we work like Trojans from now on, can we get an issue of the MAIL out tomorrow?"
"Get an issue out tomorrow!" he repeated, staring at her.
"Certainly. I would have done what I could about it," said Sidney briskly, "but not knowing where you were, or when you were coming back, my hands were absolutely tied. Now, Barry, LISTEN!" she broke off, not rea.s.sured by his expression, "and don"t jump at the conclusion that it"s impossible. What would it mean?"
"To get an issue of the MAIL out tomorrow? Why, great Scott, Sid, you don"t seem to realize that there"s not a stick left standing!"
"I do realize. I was there until the fire was out," she said calmly.
And for a few minutes they talked of the fire. Then she said abruptly: "Would Ferguson let you use the old STAR PRESS for a few weeks, do you think?"
"I don"t see why he should," Barry said perversely.
"I don"t see why he shouldn"t. I"ll tell you something you don"t know.
Night before last, Barry, while I was down in the office, old Ferguson himself came in, and poked about, and asked various questions. Finally he asked me what I thought the chances were of your wanting to buy out the Star. What do you think at THAT?"
"He"s sick of it, is he?" Barry said, with kindling eyes. "Well, we"ve seen that coming, haven"t we? I will be darned!" He shook his head regretfully. "That would have been a big thing for the MAIL" he said, "but it"s all up now!"
"Not necessarily," the lady undauntedly rejoined. "I"ve been thinking, Barry," she went on, "if you reordered the presses, they"d give you plenty of time to pay for them, wouldn"t they? Might even take something off the price, under the circ.u.mstances?"
"I suppose they might." He made an impatient gesture. "But that"s just one--"
"One item, I know. But it"s the main item. Then you could rent the office and loft over the old station, couldn"t you? And move the old Star press in there this afternoon."
"This afternoon," said Barry calmly.
"Well, we don"t gain anything by waiting. You can write a manly and affecting editorial,"--her always irrepressible laughter broke out, "full of allusions to the phoenix, you know! And my regular Sat.u.r.day column is all done, and Miss Porter can send in something, and there"s any amount of stuff about the Folsom lawsuit. And Young, Mason and Company ought to take at least a page to advertise their premium day to-morrow. I"ll come down as soon as you"ve moved--"
Barry reached for his hat.
"The thing can"t be done," he announced firmly, "but, by George, Sid, you would give a field mouse courage! And what a grandstand play, if we COULD put it through! There"s not a second to be lost, though. But look here," and with sudden gravity he took both her hands, "it"ll take some more money, you know."
"I have some more money," she answered serenely.
"Well, I"ll GET some!" he declared emphatically. "It won"t be so much, either, once we get started. And so old Ferguson wanted to sell, did he?"
"He did. And we"ll buy the STAR yet." They were on the path now.
"Telephone me when you can," she said, "and don"t lose a minute now!
Good luck!"
And Barry"s great stride had taken him half-way down River Street, his hands in his pockets, his mind awhirl with plans, before it occurred to him that he had not told her the news of Hetty, after all.
CHAPTER XVIII
On that same afternoon, several of the most influential members of the Santa Paloma Woman"s Club met informally at Mrs. Carew"s house. Some of the directors were there, Miss Pratt, Mrs. Lloyd and Mrs. Adams, and of course Mrs. White, who had indeed been instrumental in arranging the meeting. They had met to discuss Mrs. Burgoyne"s plan of using the clubhouse as a meeting place for the Old Paloma factory girls. All these ladies were quite aware that their verdict, however unofficial, would influence the rest of the club, and that what this group of a dozen or fifteen decided upon to-day would practically settle the matter.
Mrs. Willard White, hitherto serenely supreme in this little world, was curiously upset about the whole thing, openly opposed to Mrs.
Burgoyne"s suggestion, and surprised that her mere wish in the matter was not sufficient to carry a negative vote. Her contention was that the clubhouse had been built for very different purposes than those Mrs. Burgoyne proposed, and that charity to the Old Paloma girls had no part in the club"s original reasons for being. She meant, in the course of the argument, to hint that while so many of the actual necessities of decent living were lacking in the factory settlement homes, mere dancing and moving-pictures did not appeal to her as reasonable or right; and although uneasily aware that she supported the unpopular argument, still she was confident of an eventual triumph.
But despite the usual laughter, and the pleasantries and compliments, there was an air of deadly earnestness about the gathered club-women today that bespoke a deeper interest than was common in the matter up for discussion. The President"s color rose and deepened steadily, as the afternoon wore on, and one voice after another declared for the new plan, and her arguments became a little less impersonal and a little more sharp. This was especially noticeable when, as was inevitable, the name of Mrs. Burgoyne was introduced.
"I personally feel," said Mrs. White finally, "that perhaps we Santa Paloma women are just a little bit undignified when we allow a perfect stranger to come in among us, and influence our lives so materially, JUST because she happens to be a multi-millionaire. Are we so swayed by mere money? I hope not. I hope we all live our lives as suits US best, not to please--or shall I say flatter, and perhaps win favor with?--a rich woman. We--some of us, that is!"--her smile was all lenience--"have suddenly decided we can dress more simply, have suddenly decided to put our girls into gingham rompers, and instead of giving them little dancing parties, let them play about like boys! We wonder why we need spend our money on imported hats and nice dinners and hand-embroidered underwear, and Oriental rugs, although we thought these things very well worth having a few months ago--and why? Just because we are easily led, I"m afraid, and not quite conscious enough of our own dignity!"
There had been a decided heightening of color among the listening women during this little speech, and, as the President finished, more than one pair of eyes rested upon her with a slightly resentful steadiness.
There was a short silence, in which several women were gathering their thoughts for speech, but Mrs. Brown, always popular in Santa Paloma, from the days of her short braids and short dresses, and quite the youngest among them to-day, was the first to speak.
"I daresay that is quite true, Mrs. White," said Mrs. Brown, with dignity, "except that I don"t think Mrs. Burgoyne"s money influences me, or any of us! I admit that she herself, quite apart from her great fortune, has influenced me tremendously in lots of ways, but I don"t think she ever tried to do it, or realizes that she has. And as far as copying goes, don"t we women always copy somebody, anyway? Aren"t we always imitating the San Francisco women, and don"t they copy New York, and doesn"t New York copy London or Paris? We read what feathers are in, and how skirts are cut, and how coffee and salads are served, and we all do it, or try to. And when Mrs. Burgoyne came to the Hall, and never took one particle of interest in that sort of thing, I just thought it over and wondered why I should attempt to impress a woman who could buy this whole town and not miss the money?"
Laughter interrupted her, and some sympathetic clapping, but she presently went on seriously:
"I took all the boys" white socks one day, and dyed them dark brown.
And I dyed all their white suits dark blue. I"ve gotten myself some galatea dresses that nothing tears or spoils, and that come home fresh and sweet from the wash every week. And, as a result, I actually have some time to spare, for the first time since I was married. We are going to try some educational experiments on the children this winter, and, if that leaves any leisure, I am heart and soul for this new plan.
Doctor Brown feels as I do. Of course, he"s a doctor," said the loyal little wife, "and he KNOWS! And he says that all those Old Paloma girls want is a little mothering, and that when there are mothers enough to go round, there won"t be any charity or legislation needed in this world."
"I think you"ve said it all, for all of us, Mary!" Mrs. Carew said, when some affectionate applause had subsided. "I think things were probably different, a few generations ago," she went on, "but nowadays when fashions are so arbitrary, and change so fast, really and honestly, some of us, whose incomes are limited, will have to stop somewhere. Why, the very children expect box-parties, and motor-trips, and caterers" suppers, in these days. And one wouldn"t mind, if it left time for home life, and reading, and family intercourse, but it doesn"t. We don"t know what our children are studying, what they"re thinking about, or what life means to them at all, because we are too busy answering the telephone, and planning clothes, and writing formal notes, and going to places we feel we ought to be seen in. I"m having more fun than I had in years, helping our children plan some abridged plays from Shakespeare, with the Burgoyne girls, for this winter, and I"m perfectly astonished, even though I"m their mother, at their enjoyment of it, and at my own. Mr. Carew himself, who NEVER takes much interest in that sort of thing, asked me why they couldn"t give them for the Old Paloma Girls" Club, if they get a club room. I didn"t know he even knew anything about our club plans. I said, "George, are you willing to have Jeannette get interested in that crowd?" and he said, "Finest thing in the world for her!" and I don"t know," finished Mrs.
Carew, thoughtfully, "but what he"s right."
"I"m all for it," said breezy Mrs. Lloyd, "I don"t imagine I"d be any good at actually talking to them, but I would go to the dances, and introduce people, and trot partners up to the wallflowers--"
There was more laughter, and then Mrs. Adams said briskly:
"Well, let"s take an informal vote!"
"I don"t think that"s necessary, Sue," said Mrs. White, generously, "I think I am the only one of us who believes in preserving the tradition of the dear old club, and I must bow to the majority, of course.