The Fortune Hunter Part 26

"I'll try to find him for you; he must be somewhere round," she offered.

"Well, you better. I ain't got much patience to-day."

He swung on one heel and slouched out, as Betty turned to go upstairs.

Presently she reappeared pinning on her sad little hat, and left the store.

It was upwards of an hour before she returned, walking quickly and very erect, with her head up and shoulders back, her eyes suspiciously bright, the spots of colour in her cheeks blazing scarlet, her mouth set and hard, the little work-worn hands at her sides clenched tightly as if for self-control. Even old Sam, who had returned from the depot after missing Blinky at the bank--even he, blind as he ordinarily was, saw instantly that something was wrong with the child.

"Why, Betty!" he cried in solicitude as she flung into the store--"Betty, dear, what's the matter?"

For an instant she seemed speechless. Then she tore the hat from her head and cast it regardlessly upon the counter. "Father!" she cried.

"Father!"--and gulped to down her emotion. "Can you get me some money?"

"Money? Why, Betty, what--?"

Her foot came down on the floor impatiently. "Can you get me some money?" she repeated in a breath.

"Well--er--how much, Betty?" He tried to touch her, to take her to his arms, but she moved away, her sorry little figure quivering from head to feet.

"Enough," she said, half sobbing--"enough to buy a dress--a nice dress--a dress that will surprise folks--"

"But tell me what the matter is, Betty. Wanting a dress would never upset you like this."

She whipped the cracked and crumpled card from her pocket and pushed it into his hand. "Look at that!" she bade him, and turned away, struggling with all her might to keep back the tears.

He read, his old face softening. "Josie Lockwood's party, eh? And she's sent you an invitation. Well, that was kind of her, very kind."

She swung upon him in a fury. "No, it was not kind. It was mean... It was mean!"

"Oh, Betty," he begged in consternation, "don't say that. I'm sure--"

"Oh, you don't know... I heard the girls talking in the post-office-- Angle Tuthill and Mame Garrison and Bessie Gabriel... I was round by the boxes where they couldn't see me, but I could hear them, and they were laughing because I was invited. They said the reason Josie did it was because she knew I didn't have anything to wear, and she wanted to hear what excuse I'd make for not going. Ah, I heard them!"

"Oh, but Betty, Betty," he pleaded; "don't you mind what they say.

Don't--"

"But I do mind; I can't help mindin'. They're mean." She paused, her features hardening. "I'm going to that party," she declared tensely: "I'm goin' to that party and--and I'm goin' to have a dress to go in, too! I don't care what I do--I'm goin' to have that dress!"

Sam would have soothed her as best he might, but she would neither look at nor come near him.

"We'll see," he said gently. "We'll see. I'll try--"

She turned on him, exasperated beyond thought. "That only means you can't help me!"

"Oh, no, it doesn't. I'll do what I can--"

"Have you got any money now?"

He hung his head to avoid her blazing eyes. "Well, no--not at present, but here's this new stock and--."

"That doesn't mean anything, and you know it. You owe that note to Mr.

Lockwood, don't you? And you can't pay it?"

"Not to-day, Betty, but he'll give me a little more time, I'm sure.

He's kind, very kind."

"You don't know him. He's as mean--as mean as dirt--as mean as Josie."

"Betty!"

"Then if you did get any money you'd have to give it to him, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, but--I'm sure--I think it'll come all right."

"Ah, what's the use of talkin' that way? What's the use of talkin' at all? I know you can't do anything for me, and so do you!"

Sam had dropped into his chair, unable to stand before this storm; he stared now, mute with amazement, at this child who had so long, so uncomplainingly, shared his poverty and privations, grown suddenly to the stature of a woman--and a tormented, pa.s.sionate woman, stung to the quick by the injustice of her lot. He put out a hand in a feeble gesture of placation, but she brushed it away as she bent toward him, speaking so quickly that her words stumbled and ran into one another.

"I can't understand it!" she raged. "Why is it that I have to be more shabby than any other girl in town? Why is it that the others have all the fun and I all the drudgery? Why is it that I can't ever go anywhere with the boys and girls and laugh and--and have a good time like the rest do?..."

Sam bent his head to the blast. In his lap his hands worked nervously.

But he could not answer her.

"It ain't that I mind the cookin' and doin' the housework and--all the rest--but--why is it you can never give me anything at all? Why must it be that everyone looks down on us and sneers and laughs at us? Why is it that half the time we haven't got enough to eat?... Other men manage to take care of their families and give their children things to wear.

You've got only us two to look after, and you can't even do that. It isn't right, it isn't decent, and if I were you I'd be ashamed of myself--!"

Her temper had spent itself, and with this final cry she checked abruptly, with a catch at her breath for shame of what she had let herself say. But, childlike, she was not ready to own her sorrow; and she turned her back, trembling.

Sam, too, was shaken. In his heart he knew there was justification for her indictment, truth in what she had said. And he was heartbroken for her. He got up unsteadily and put a gentle hand upon her shoulder.

"Why, Betty--I--I--"

A dry sob interrupted him. He pulled himself together and forced his voice to a tone of confidence. "Just be a little patient, dear. I'm sure things will be better with us, soon. Just a little more patience-- that's all... Why, there was a gentleman here this morning, from Noo York City, talkin' about an invention of mine."

The girl moved restlessly, shaking off his hand. "Invention!" she echoed bitterly. "Oh, father! Everybody knows they're no good. You've been wastin' time on 'em ever since I can remember, and you've never made a dollar out of one yet."

He bowed to the truth of this, then again braced up bravely. "But this gentleman seemed quite interested. He's over to the Bigelow House now.

I think I'll step over and have a talk with him--"

"You'd much better go and have a talk with Blinky Lockwood," she told him brutally. "He's waitin' for you at the bank, and said he wasn't goin' to wait after twelve o'clock, neither!"

"Wel-l, perhaps you're right. I'll go there. It's after twelve, but..."

He started to get his hat and stopped with an exclamation: "Why, Nat!

I didn't know you'd got back!"

Duncan was at the back of the store, clearing the last remnants of the old stock from the shelves. "Yes," he said pleasantly, without turning, "I've been here some time, cleaning up the cellar, to make room for the stuff that's coming in. I came upstairs just a moment ago, but you were so busy talking you didn't notice me."

He paused, swept the empty shelves with a calculating glance, and came out around the end of the counter. "Everything's in tip-top shape," he said. "I checked up the bill of lading myself, and there's not a thing missing, not a bit of breakage. Mr. Graham," he continued, dropping a gentle hand on the old man's shoulder, "you're going to have the finest drug-store in the State within six months. With the stuff that Sperry has sent us we can make Sothern and Lee look like sixty-five cents on the dollar.... We're going to make things hum in this old shop, and don't you forget it." He laughed lightly, with a note of encouragement.