CHAPTER LIX.The Fatal Mistake

CHAPTER LIX.The Fatal MistakeWhen I finally did get myself downstairs, I found Sam, seemingly alone in the living-room, playing solitaire. I judged, from the look he gave me, and from the way he had his shoulders hunched, that he was still in a right ugly humor.“Where’s everybody?” I asked.“Out committing murders, somewhere, likely.”“That’s a nice way to talk, isn’t it?”He mumbled something.“What?” I said. “I can’t hear you when you mutter like that.”“I didn’t talk much louder when I told Miss MacDonald about John’s trying to make a getaway. She heard me all right. That’s all the good it did. Do you know how much I trust that woman?”“No, I don’t know. I don’t care, either.”Sam got out that silly, shrill voice he has for talking when he is trying to mock a woman, any woman, and in using it he spoke up, real loudly. “ ‘Well, Mr. Stanley, why not allow your son to go down and live with the ranch hands, in their houses, for a time, since he is so eager to do so?’ ”“Well, what about that?”“Ahk!” Sam barked. “She is head over heels in love with him, that’s a part of what is the matter with her.”I said, “I wish I thought so.”“Why do you wish that, Mary?” It was Danny’s voice. Her white face, with the big, sorrowful eyes, peeked around the high back of a chair near the fireplace.I was too taken aback to answer her.“How long have you been sitting there, eavesdropping, young lady?” Sam asked.“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she answered, quietly. “I am sorry. I was reading, and didn’t hear anything until you began to mimic Miss MacDonald. I heard all of that. Why does John wish to go down and live with the outfit?”“John and Sam had a little trouble to-day,” I told her.Sam, with his usual helpfulness in embarrassing situations, pushed back his chair and went walking fast out of the room.“Mary,” she questioned, “why aren’t you my friend any more?”“Lands, child,” I said, “if you mean that because I was wishing Miss MacDonald was in love with John, it was only because I’ve always reckoned that the more women in love with a man the better for him. John loves you. What do you care how many women love him?”“John doesn’t love me any more. I suppose that was what he and uncle were quarreling about? John wants to get away from me, is that it? And Uncle Sam is so good, and so loyal, that he won’t allow it?”“Nothing like that,” I scoffed. “It was——” I left that sentence unfinished, and went into the kitchen.She followed me. I went straight to the stove and picked up the lid lifter, which, as usual, when I’m not there to watch, someone had left sticking up in a stove-lid to get red hot, instead of hanging it on the hook where it belonged. I dropped it with a howl; and, wrapping my hand in my apron, told her to run and get the linseed oil and limewater, up in the hall bathroom, for me.I am not saying that I was not to blame. I do say that, if that fool child Zinnia had not jumped around shouting, “Sody! Sody! Wet sody’s the best for burns——” and that, if Mrs. Ricker hadn’t heard her screeching, and come in, too, and begun asking questions, I certainly would not have overlooked the fact that, before she went to minister to my needs, Danny had picked up that lid-lifter, from where I had dropped it on the floor, and had hung it on its hook.She made a quick trip upstairs and down again, with the bandages, and the lotion. She offered, sweet and sympathetic, to do up my hand for me. I had noticed, by that time, that my hand was not smarting much, but I was too excited to account for it reasonably. I asked Mrs. Ricker to attend to the bandages. I had another job for Danny.“I just came out here,” I said, “to make my weekly list to send to Telko for supplies. I can’t write with this wadded up hand. Will you make the list for me, Danny? Zinnia, please hand her the pad and pencil from the shelf.”Zinnia brought it. Danny sat down by the table and picked up the pencil. My heart thumped in my throat.“One crate of Fallon melons,” I said.Danny pushed the pad and pencil across the table to Mrs. Ricker. “Perhaps you’d as soon make the list for Mary? I have something to attend to upstairs.”“Go on, now you’ve started it, Danny,” I said. “You write such a neat, pretty hand.”“I presume my writing can be read,” Mrs. Ricker replied, as she picked up the pencil. “A crate of Fallon melons, did you say?” She wrote it down. I heard Danny running up the back stairway.I felt flat as rolled dough from my disappointment. In the next minute I had something more than disappointment to bother me.“I don’t see,” Zinnia said, “how you made out to burn yourself on that stove, Mrs. Magin. Miss Canneziano was out here, just a while ago, wanting to make some tea. The fire was dead out. She boiled the water on the electric plate.”I ran to the stove. It was as cold as winter time.

When I finally did get myself downstairs, I found Sam, seemingly alone in the living-room, playing solitaire. I judged, from the look he gave me, and from the way he had his shoulders hunched, that he was still in a right ugly humor.

“Where’s everybody?” I asked.

“Out committing murders, somewhere, likely.”

“That’s a nice way to talk, isn’t it?”

He mumbled something.

“What?” I said. “I can’t hear you when you mutter like that.”

“I didn’t talk much louder when I told Miss MacDonald about John’s trying to make a getaway. She heard me all right. That’s all the good it did. Do you know how much I trust that woman?”

“No, I don’t know. I don’t care, either.”

Sam got out that silly, shrill voice he has for talking when he is trying to mock a woman, any woman, and in using it he spoke up, real loudly. “ ‘Well, Mr. Stanley, why not allow your son to go down and live with the ranch hands, in their houses, for a time, since he is so eager to do so?’ ”

“Well, what about that?”

“Ahk!” Sam barked. “She is head over heels in love with him, that’s a part of what is the matter with her.”

I said, “I wish I thought so.”

“Why do you wish that, Mary?” It was Danny’s voice. Her white face, with the big, sorrowful eyes, peeked around the high back of a chair near the fireplace.

I was too taken aback to answer her.

“How long have you been sitting there, eavesdropping, young lady?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she answered, quietly. “I am sorry. I was reading, and didn’t hear anything until you began to mimic Miss MacDonald. I heard all of that. Why does John wish to go down and live with the outfit?”

“John and Sam had a little trouble to-day,” I told her.

Sam, with his usual helpfulness in embarrassing situations, pushed back his chair and went walking fast out of the room.

“Mary,” she questioned, “why aren’t you my friend any more?”

“Lands, child,” I said, “if you mean that because I was wishing Miss MacDonald was in love with John, it was only because I’ve always reckoned that the more women in love with a man the better for him. John loves you. What do you care how many women love him?”

“John doesn’t love me any more. I suppose that was what he and uncle were quarreling about? John wants to get away from me, is that it? And Uncle Sam is so good, and so loyal, that he won’t allow it?”

“Nothing like that,” I scoffed. “It was——” I left that sentence unfinished, and went into the kitchen.

She followed me. I went straight to the stove and picked up the lid lifter, which, as usual, when I’m not there to watch, someone had left sticking up in a stove-lid to get red hot, instead of hanging it on the hook where it belonged. I dropped it with a howl; and, wrapping my hand in my apron, told her to run and get the linseed oil and limewater, up in the hall bathroom, for me.

I am not saying that I was not to blame. I do say that, if that fool child Zinnia had not jumped around shouting, “Sody! Sody! Wet sody’s the best for burns——” and that, if Mrs. Ricker hadn’t heard her screeching, and come in, too, and begun asking questions, I certainly would not have overlooked the fact that, before she went to minister to my needs, Danny had picked up that lid-lifter, from where I had dropped it on the floor, and had hung it on its hook.

She made a quick trip upstairs and down again, with the bandages, and the lotion. She offered, sweet and sympathetic, to do up my hand for me. I had noticed, by that time, that my hand was not smarting much, but I was too excited to account for it reasonably. I asked Mrs. Ricker to attend to the bandages. I had another job for Danny.

“I just came out here,” I said, “to make my weekly list to send to Telko for supplies. I can’t write with this wadded up hand. Will you make the list for me, Danny? Zinnia, please hand her the pad and pencil from the shelf.”

Zinnia brought it. Danny sat down by the table and picked up the pencil. My heart thumped in my throat.

“One crate of Fallon melons,” I said.

Danny pushed the pad and pencil across the table to Mrs. Ricker. “Perhaps you’d as soon make the list for Mary? I have something to attend to upstairs.”

“Go on, now you’ve started it, Danny,” I said. “You write such a neat, pretty hand.”

“I presume my writing can be read,” Mrs. Ricker replied, as she picked up the pencil. “A crate of Fallon melons, did you say?” She wrote it down. I heard Danny running up the back stairway.

I felt flat as rolled dough from my disappointment. In the next minute I had something more than disappointment to bother me.

“I don’t see,” Zinnia said, “how you made out to burn yourself on that stove, Mrs. Magin. Miss Canneziano was out here, just a while ago, wanting to make some tea. The fire was dead out. She boiled the water on the electric plate.”

I ran to the stove. It was as cold as winter time.

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