CHAPTER VI
“Nell!”
There was genuine delight in the boy’s tone as he came forward to greet her, shyly, perhaps, and with a bit of shamed hesitancy because he could not but remember that the family had probably told her all about him, and she would of course disapprove of him as much as they did.
But Cornelia, with the steaming gravy-boat in one hand and a pile of hot plates in the other, turned a warm, rosy cheek up to him, her eyes still intent on putting down the dishes without spilling the treacherous gravy on the clean tablecloth.
“It’s great to see you again, Carey,” she said heartily, trying to make the situation as casual as possible. “Sorry to seem brief; but I have something luscious on the stove, and I’m afraid it’ll burn. Sit down quick, won’t you?—and be ready to eat it while it’s hot. We’ll talk afterward. I want to have a good look at you and see if you’ve grown more than I have.”
Her voice trailed off into the kitchen cheerily, and not in the least as though she had been palpitating between hope and fear about him all the afternoon and working herself to a frazzle getting his room ready.
She returned almost immediately with the first plate of golden-brown waffles, and stole a furtive glance at him from the kitchen doorway. He had not yet seated himself, although the others were bustling joyously and noisilyinto their chairs. He was still standing thoughtfully, staring around the dining-room and at the table. As she approached, he gave her a furtive, sweeping look, then dropped his lashes and slid into his chair, a half-frown beginning to grow on his brow. He looked as if he were expecting the next question to be: “Why weren’t you here last night? Where were you? Don’t you know you were rude?” but none of those questions were voiced. His father did clear his throat and glance up at him gravely; but Louise with quick instinct began to chatter about the syrup that Cornelia had made. His attention was turned aside, and the tense expression of his face relaxed as he looked about the pleasant table and noticed the happy faces.
“It hasn’t looked this way since your mother went away,” said the father with a deep sigh. “How good that bread looks! Real home-made bread again! What a difference that makes!” and he reached out, and took a slice as if it were something merely to look at and feel.
“I’ll say! That looks rare!” Carey volunteered, taking a slice himself and passing the plate. “Some smell, this dinner, what?” he added, drawing in a long, deep breath. “Seems like living again.”
His father’s tired eyes rested on him sadly, contemplatively. He opened his lips to speak; but Cornelia slid into her chair, and said, “Now, father, we’re ready”; and he bowed his head and murmured a low, sad little grace. So Carey was saved again from a much-deserved reproof. Cornelia couldn’t help being glad; and Louise looked at her with a knowing gleam in her eye as she raised her head, and broke into a brilliant smile. Louise had bitterknowledge of what it meant to have Carey reproved at a meal. There was always a scene, ending with no Carey.
“Yes, and,” began Louise swiftly as soon as the “Amen” was concluded, “there’s wafflesandgingerbread! Think of that! And Nellie had time to fix up your bedroom, Kay. Did you go up there?”
“I should say I did! Nell, you’re a peach! I never meant to have it looking that way when you came home. I sure am ashamed you had to dig that stuff all out. Some junk I had there. I meant to take a day off and clean house pretty soon.”
“Well, now you can help me with some of the other rooms, instead,” his sister replied, smiling, and hastened back to turn her waffles.
“I sure will!” said Carey heartily. “When do you want me? Tomorrow morning? Nothing in the way of my working all day if you say the word. We used to make a pretty good team, Nell, you and I. Think we could accomplish a lot in a day.”
“Yes, Carey hasn’t any job to hinder him doing what he pleases,” put in Harry with a bitter young sneer. “I’d ’uv had it all done by myself long ago if I hadn’t had a job after school!”
“Yes, you young brag!” began Carey with a deep scowl. “You think you’re it andthensome!”
“It would seem as if you might have given a little time, Carey,” began his father almost petulantly, with a look about his mouth of restraining less mild things that he might have said.
Louise looked apprehensively at her sister.
“Oh, well,” put in Cornelia quickly, “you couldn’t be expected to know what to do, any of you, till your big sister got home. You’ve all done wonderfully well, I think, to get as much done as you have; and I only blame you, everyone of you, especially father dear, for not sending for me sooner. It was really—well, criminal, you know, Daddy, to keep me in expensive luxury and ignorance that way. But I’m not going to scold you here before folks. We’ll have that out after they’ve all gone to bed, won’t we? We’re going to have nothing but pleasant sayings at this supper table. It’s a kind of reunion, you know, after so many years. Just think; we haven’t all been together for—how long is it?—four years? Doesn’t that seem really awful? When I think of it, I realize how terribly selfish I have been. I didn’t realize it in college because I was having such a good time, but I have been selfish and lazy and absolutely thoughtless. I hope you’ll all forgive me.”
Carey lifted wondering eyes, and his scowl faded while he studied his pretty sister’s guileless face thoughtfully. The attention was diverted from him, and his anger was cooling; but somehow he began to feel deep in his soul that it was really he that had been selfish. All their scolding and nagging hadn’t made him in the least conscious of it; but this new, old, dear, pretty sister taking the blame on herself seemed to throw a new light on his own doings. Of course it was merely momentary, and made no very deep impression; but still the idea had come, and would never be quite driven away again.
The supper was a success from every point of view. The pot-roast was as tender as cheese; the mashed potatoes melted under the gravy like snow before the summer sun, and were enjoyed with audible praise; and the waffles sizzled and baked and disappeared, and more took their places, until at last the batter was all gone.
“Well, I couldn’t hold another one,” said Carey, “but they certainly were jim-dandies. Say, you haven’t forgotten how to cook, Nell!” and he cast a look of deep admiration toward his sister.
Cornelia, so tired she could hardly get up out of her chair after she dropped into it, lifted a bravely smiling face, and realized that she had scored a point. Carey had liked the supper and was over his grouch. The first night had been ushered in greatly. She was just wondering whether she dared suggest that he help wash the dishes when he suddenly jerked out his watch, glanced at it, and shoved his chair back noisily.
“Gee! I’ve gotta beat it,” he said hurriedly as he strode to the hall door. “I’ve gotta date!” and before the family had drawn the one quick, startled, aghast breath of disappointment and tried to think of some way to detain him, or find out where he was going, or when he was coming back, he had slammed the front door behind him.
The father had an ashen-gray, helpless look; Louise’s mouth drooped at the corners, and there were tears in her eyes as she held up her head bravely and carried a pile of plates out to the kitchen, while Harry with an ugly sneer on his young lips shoved his chair back, noisily murmuring:“Aw, gee! Gotta date! Always gotta date! When I grow up, I’ll see if I always have to have a date!” Then he snatched an armful of dishes, and strode to the kitchen, grumbling in an undertone all the way.
Cornelia cast a quick, apprehensive look at her father, and said cheerily:
“Oh, never mind. Of course young men have dates; and when you’ve promised, you know it isn’t easy to change. Come, let’s get these dishes out of the way quickly; and then we can sit down and talk. It’s great to all be together again, isn’t it? Father, dear, how long do you suppose it will be before mother is well? Have you had a letter today?”
The father beamed at her again, and, putting his hand in his pocket, drew out an official-looking envelope.
“Yes,” he said wistfully; “that is, a note from the nurse with the report. Of course she is not allowed to write. She just sends her love, that’s all, and says she’s getting well as fast as possible. She seems to be gaining a little. Here’s the report.”
They all gathered around it, studying the little white, mysterious paper that was to tell them how the dear mother was getting on, and then turned away little wiser. Suddenly Harry, noticing the sag of Cornelia’s shoulder as she stood holding on to the back of her father’s chair, turned with a swift motion, and gathered her into his strong young arms like a bear. Before she could protest he bore her over to the old, humpy couch, where he deposited her with a gruff gentleness.
“There you are!” he puffed commandingly. “Youlie there, and Lou and I will do the dishes. You’re all in, and you don’t know enough to know it.”
“Nonsense!” said Cornelia, laughing and trying to rise. “I’m used to playing basketball and hockey, and doing all sorts of stunts. It won’t hurt me to get a little tired. I’m going to wash those dishes, and you can wipe them.”
“No, you’re not. I say she’s not, Lou, is she?” and he held her down with his rough young force.
“Certainly not,” said Louise grown-uply appearing with her hands full of knives and forks. “It’s our turn now. She thinks we don’t know how to wash dishes. Harry Copley, you just oughtta see all she’s done all by herself upstairs, cleaning Carey’s room, and washing blankets, and all, besides making bread and gingerbread and everything. Come on upstairs and see. No, we won’t go yet till the dishes are done. ’Cause Nellie would work while we were gone. Daddy, you just sit there and talk to her, and don’t let her get up while we clean up. Then we’ll take you upstairs.”
So Cornelia lay still at last on the lumpy couch, and rested, realizing that she was “all in,” and feeling well repaid for her hard work by the loving light in the children’s eyes and her father’s tender glance.
The thought of Carey hung in the back of her mind, and troubled her now and then; but she remembered that he had promised to help her in the morning, and somehow that comforted her. She succeeded in keeping the rest of the family so interested in her tales of college life that they did not remember their troubles.
When the dishes were done, Cornelia told Louise how to set some buckwheat cakes for morning.
“I saw they were selling buckwheat cheap in the store,” she explained; “and so I got some. It will soon be too warm to eat buckwheat cakes, and I’m just crazy to taste them again. I haven’t had a decent one since I left home.”
“Carey just loves ’em,” said Louise thoughtfully.
“Aw, he won’t get up in time to get any,” sneered Harry.
“He might if he knew we were going to have ’em,” said Louise.
“Let’s write him a note, and leave it up on his bureau,” said Cornelia brightly. “That’ll be fun. Let’s make it in poetry. Where’s a pencil and a big piece of paper?”
“I’ve got some colored crayons,” suggested Harry.
So Cornelia scribbled a minute, and produced the following, which Harry proudly copied in large illuminated letters on a piece of wrapping paper:
“The Copleys’ breakfast’s buckwheat cakes,With maple syrup too;They’re light and tender, sweet and brown,The kind you needn’t chew.So, Carey, rise at early dawn,And put your vesture on,And come to breakfast in good time,Or they will all be gone!”
“The Copleys’ breakfast’s buckwheat cakes,With maple syrup too;They’re light and tender, sweet and brown,The kind you needn’t chew.So, Carey, rise at early dawn,And put your vesture on,And come to breakfast in good time,Or they will all be gone!”
“The Copleys’ breakfast’s buckwheat cakes,With maple syrup too;They’re light and tender, sweet and brown,The kind you needn’t chew.So, Carey, rise at early dawn,And put your vesture on,And come to breakfast in good time,Or they will all be gone!”
“The Copleys’ breakfast’s buckwheat cakes,
With maple syrup too;
They’re light and tender, sweet and brown,
The kind you needn’t chew.
So, Carey, rise at early dawn,
And put your vesture on,
And come to breakfast in good time,
Or they will all be gone!”
Louise danced up and down as she read it.
“O Nellie, Nellie, that’s real poetry!” she declared, “and aren’t we having a good time?”
“I should say we were!” declared Harry, beginning to make a large flourishing capital T with green and brown crayons. “Talk about dates!” contemptuously. “If a fella has got a good home, he oughtta stay in it!”
“O Nellie, it’s so good to have you home!” sighed Louise suddenly snuggling down into her sister’s tired arms. “I’m so glad your college is done!”
And all at once Cornelia realized that she too was glad. Here had she been nearly all this afternoon and evening, having a first-rate, beautiful time getting tired with hard work, but enjoying it just as much as if she had been working over the junior play. It came to her with a sudden start that just at this hour they were having one of the almost last rehearsals—without her! For a second it gave her a pang, and then she realized that she really and truly was just as much interested in getting Carey’s room fixed up, and making a cheerful, beautiful living room some day for the family to gather in, and having good times to win back Carey, as ever she had been in making costumes for the girls and making the play a success by means of her delightful scenery. For was she not, after all, about to plan the scenery for the play of life in the Copley family? Who should say but there would be as much tragedy and comedy and romance in the Copley play as ever there had been at Dwight Hall? Well, time would tell, and somehow the last twenty-four hours had put her on a different plane, and enabled her to look down at her college life from a new angle. What had done it? Her knowledge of how her fatherand mother had struggled and sacrificed? The dearness of her young brother and sister in their sturdy, honest desire to be helpful and to love her and look up to her? Or was it her longing to hold and help the young brother who had been her chum and companion in the days before she had gone to college? At least, she could truly say in her heart that she was glad she was here tonight, and she was not nearly so dismayed at the dreary house and the sordid surroundings as she had been twenty-four hours before; for now she knew that it only spelled her opportunity, as that lovely lady on the train had suggested, and she was eager to be up and at it in the morning.
They all went up together to the third story presently, and stood in the swept and garnished front room, Mr. Copley going over to the bureau and touching with a tender movement of caress the picture of his wife that stood there and then looking toward the empty white bed with a wistful anxiety. Cornelia could almost read the words of his heart, and into her own there entered the burden of her brother, and she knew she would never rest in her own selfish ease again until she felt sure that Carey was all right.
She crept into bed beside Louise at last, almost too weary to pull up the covers; and let the little girl snuggle thankfully into her arms.
“You’re almost—almost like my dear muvver,” murmured Louise sleepily, nosing into her neck and settling down on her sister’s arm with a sigh of content; and Cornelia thought how sweet it was to have a little sister to loveand be loved by, and wondered how it was that she had dreaded having her for a roommate.
Then, too weary to think any longer, she fell asleep.
Hours afterward, it seemed, she was awakened by a stumbling footstep up the stairs, halting and fumbling about in the hall, and then going on, stumbling again, up to the third story. She heard a low muttering, too, and it frightened her. Had Carey been drinking? A strange, rank smell of cigarette smoke—and more—drifted into the door which had been left ajar; and a cold frenzy took hold of her heart. Carey had been drinking! She felt sure. A moment more, and she heard light footsteps from the little hall bedroom above, and Harry’s indignant young voice remonstrating, the sounds of a brief struggle, the thud of a heavy body on the bedsprings above, and then Harry’s voice coming clearly down the stairs in disgust as he pattered back to his hard little cot.
“Ow! You great big fish, you! You oughtta be ashamed of yourself!”
It was hours after that that Cornelia finally fell asleep again, and during those hours she found herself praying involuntarily, praying and pleading: “O God, help me to help Carey. Don’t let Carey be a drunkard. Don’t let him be wild and bad! Help him to want to be good and right. Help him to be a man. O God, help me to do something about it!”