I Walked in Arden Part 32

And all because I was such a blithering, blistering idiot as to leave my code book at the telegraph office, Helen missed hearing the good news that night. Twice my hand reached for the telephone, and twice I paused.

I couldn't call Helen up at one-thirty in the morning, not even to tell her she was to be married in July. At least, I couldn't with Mrs.

Claybourne in the house. It would have meant an all-night session of hysterics, I felt sure, and I had to spare Helen that. But I could tell Knowlton! I grabbed the telephone and demanded the Otooska House until the central operator must have thought there was a madman at the other end. At last I heard Knowlton's sleepy voice.

"What the h.e.l.l is it, Ted? Factory on fire or Prospero's ghost haunting you?"

"Neither," I shouted at him. "I'm going to be married."

"Great G.o.d, kid, are you drunk?" he came back. "Go to bed and let a man sleep. It's a dirty joke getting me up at this hour."

"It's the cable from father--I've decoded it."

"h.e.l.lo," his voice came sharper. "I knew darned well you were lying to me earlier in the evening. What is it?"

"The business has been sold," I said, waiting to hear what the effect would be.

There was a moment's pause; then his voice came steady. "I'm glad to hear it, kid. I guess that means your uncle Dudley is out of a job."

"No, it doesn't," I cut in, a little regretful that I had teased him.

"I'm instructed to pay you a bonus of five per cent of the net proceeds over and above your salary. Looks as if my father thought enough of you to put you on something else."

There was another pause--so long a one that Central almost cut us off.

"Listen, kid," came Knowlton's voice, when vigorous protests from us both had restored connection again. "What did you cable your father early this afternoon?"

"None of your darned business," I replied. "How did you know I cabled him?"

"The auburn haired little bird whispered it to me when she told me about the reply that came." I could almost feel Knowlton's grin travelling over the wire to me. "What did you say?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you in the morning."

I heard him laugh. "You won't be at the factory in the morning."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you'll be out on Myrtle Boulevard telling some one the big news."

"Honest?" I said. "I can have the morning off?"

"Say," he came back, "for gosh' sake cut out this me-the-boss stuff. I don't give a darn if you never come out again. Yes, I do; I'll take that back. You'll tell me some time tomorrow what you cabled your father, or I'll sit on the door step at Myrtle Boulevard until I find out.

Seriously, kid, one day off, then we get things in shape to turn the works over. No Norwood stunts for us. It'll be a healthy, going concern.

August, did you say? That gives us three months clear. Put your back in it and give my love to Helen in the morning," and he hung up the receiver with a crash in my ear.

I thought sleep was going to be impossible that night, but about four o'clock, as my mind seemed in a perfect welter which defied all efforts at reduction to order, I fell into a dreamless slumber. It was after eight when I awoke, with a curse at myself for forgetting to set the alarm. After a hasty shower and omitting breakfast I dashed out Myrtle Boulevard as rapidly as decorum permitted. I arrived a little after nine. Mr. Claybourne had already gone to his office. Mrs. Claybourne was anything but pleased to see me at that hour. Her forehead was still adorned with one or two iron clamps in which her hair was tightly wound.

I tried to get past her to call for Helen. Mrs. Claybourne was firm.

Helen was a.s.sisting Jane with the house work, and I was on no account to disturb her. Besides, I ought to be out at the factory at work, like other sensible men. It was bad enough my calling every night. If I was to be underfoot in the morning, too, things might just as well stop where they were. There was a limit to a mother's patience. She was accustomed to the fact that neither Helen nor I ever showed her the slightest consideration, but there was a bound set up by decency which no one had a right to cross, and that bound she would defend at all costs.

Not for anything would I have told her the object of my call, until Helen had first heard the news, and I was ruefully considering going home and telephoning Helen, when this young lady herself stuck her head over the banisters.

"What in the world, Ted, are you quarrelling with mother for just after breakfast? Come upstairs and be scolded at once."

Mother let out a shocked "Helen! The rooms aren't done!" but I bounded by her and upstairs before Mrs. Claybourne could clutch me. Helen looked adorable in a boudoir cap with little pink roses on it and a j.a.panese kimono that trailed on the floor.

"Well," she said with mock severity, "what do you mean, sir, by forcing your way into the house in this fas.h.i.+on?"

Belowstairs Mrs. Claybourne was repeatedly ordering me to come down. I wondered how long I dared ignore her.

"Helen," I gasped, "I must see you alone--my father's cable--the best news--urgent."

Helen caught my arm, and the strength of her grasp surprised me.

"Ted--you don't mean?--is it true?"

"Yes," I choked, "as soon as we can make all arrangements."

She planted a sudden kiss square on my mouth just as Mrs. Claybourne toiled to the top of the stairs, in breathless and exasperated pursuit.

"Helen, I'm surprised at you--and at Edward. You are not properly dressed--go to your room at once."

By way of reply, Helen did the most surprising thing. She deliberately kicked as high as the rather tight kimono would permit, threw her arms around her mother's neck, and, frantically kissing her, bore Mrs.

Claybourne heavily to ground in a sitting posture on top of a cedar clothes chest. I had never seen Helen before in a reckless state of high spirits. Mrs. Claybourne energetically fought off her daughter's embraces.

"Helen Claybourne," she exclaimed, "don't you dare tell me that you and Edward are going to be married. I won't hear it!"

"We are, mother, we are!" cried the excited child, and flung her arms about me, leading me around the hall in a wild and undignified dance. I feebly protested, fearing at least double-woman-power hysterics from Mrs. Claybourne. But "mother" was made of sterner stuff when it came to a pinch. Her lips narrowed to an ominous straight line as she got upon her feet.

"Helen," she commanded in a changed tone of voice. "Go to your room!

Your father will deal with you presently. Edward, you will oblige me by leaving my house instantly!"

Helen released me, for we saw that, in the phraseology of Deep Harbor, Mrs. Claybourne "meant business." I bowed and started downstairs. I looked back at Helen from the landing, and over her mother's shoulder I saw her mouth form silently the word "dad." I took the hint, going straight to Mr. Claybourne's office as rapidly as I could get there.

I rather precipitately upset the office boy's theory of etiquette and literally banged into his office. He was talking over the telephone with a serious face. I realized that "mother" had beaten me in reaching him, thanks to the curse of the modern machine.

"Sit down, Edward, and keep quiet," he commanded, adding through the mouthpiece, "Yes. He's here. He has just come."

After what seemed an hour, although it was only a few minutes, he hung up the receiver. Not by a single word had he indicated his own state of mind, but the look upon his face made me most uneasy.

"Ted, you and Helen both show a strange lack of appreciation for a mother's point of view," he began, and I thought, "O Lord, I'm in for a sermon on filial conduct." "I grant you mother is very nervous and difficult to handle, but a little show of affection, a little tact even, would work wonders."

We sat in silence for a moment. I felt rather uncomfortable.

"What possible excuse have you," he went on, "for going out to my house early in the morning and upsetting Helen's mother when I wasn't there?"

"I wished to see Helen. I've had an important cable from my father, and I didn't stop to think of anything else."

He adjusted his gla.s.ses carefully. "No," he said, "you and Helen never stop to think of any one but yourselves. Show me your father's cable."

I laid my copy before him. He read it slowly, turning it over once or twice. Then he handed it back to me.