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Where There's a Will Part 27

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"He has gone to take the white of an egg," she replied rather haughtily.

She was too honest to evade anything, but she flushed. Of course, I knew what he didn't--that the prince had been among the first to scurry to the house, and that he hadn't even waited for her.

He walked to the window, as if he didn't want her to see what he thought of that, and I saw him looking hard at something outside in the snow.

When he walked back to the fire he was smiling, and he stooped over and poked Arabella with his finger.

"So that was it!" he said. "Full to the scuppers, poor little wretch!

Minnie, I am hoist with my own petard, which in this case was a boomerang."

"Which is in English--" I asked.

"With the instinct of her s.e.x, Arabella has unearthed what was meant to be buried forever. She had gorged herself into a convulsion on that rabbit I shot last night!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE MUTINY

They went to the house together, he carrying Arabella like a sick baby and Miss Patty beside him. As far as I could see they didn't speak a word to each other, but once or twice I saw her turn and look up at him as if she was puzzled.

I closed the door and stood just inside, looking at father's picture over the mantel. As sure as I stood there, the eyes were fixed on the spring, and I sensed, as you may say, what they meant. I went over and looked down into the spring, and it seemed to me it was darker than usual. It may have smelled stronger, but the edge had been taken off my nose, so to speak, by being there so long.

From the spring I looked again at father, and his eyes were on me mournful and sad. I felt as though, if he'd been there, father would have turned the whole affair to the advantage of the house, and it was almost more than I could bear. I was only glad the old doctor's enlargement had not come yet. I couldn't have endured having it see what had occurred.

The only thing I could think of was to empty the spring and let the water come in plain. I could put a little sulphur in to give it color and flavor, and if it turned out that Mr. Pierce was right and that Arabella was only a glutton, I could put in the other things later.

I was carrying out my first pailful when Doctor Barnes came down the path and took the pail out of my hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Making a slide?"

"No," I said bitterly, "I am watering the flowers."

"Good!" He was not a bit put out. "Let me help you." He took the pail across the path and poured a little into the snow at the base of a half-dozen fence posts. "There!" he said, coming back triumphant.

"The roses are done. Now let's have a go at the pansies and the lady's-slippers and the--the begonias. I say"--he stopped suddenly on his way in--"sulphur water on a begonia--what would it make? Skunk cabbage?"

Inside, however, he put down the pail, and pulling me in, closed the door.

"Now forget it!" he commanded. "Just because a lot of d.a.m.n fools see a dog in a fit and have one, too, is that any reason for your being scared wall-eyed and knock-kneed?"

"I'm not!" I snapped.

"Well, you're wall-eyed with fright," he insisted. "Of course, you're the best judge of your own knees, but after last night--Had any lunch?"

I shook my head.

"Exactly," he said. "You make me think of the little boy who dug post-holes in the daytime and took in was.h.i.+ngs at night to support the family. Sit down."

I sat.

"Inhale and exhale slowly four times, and then swallow the lump in your throat.... Gone?"

"Yes."

"Good." He was fumbling in his pocket and he brought out a napkin. When he opened it there was a sandwich, a piece of cheese and a banana.

"What do you think of that?" he asked, watching me anxiously. "Looks pretty good?"

"Fine," I said, hating to disappoint him, although I never eat sardines, and bananas give me indigestion, "I'm hungry enough to eat a raw Italian."

"Then fall to," he directed, and with a flourish he drew a bottle of ginger ale from his pocket.

"How's this?" he demanded, holding it up. "Cheers but doesn't inebriate; not a headache in a barrel; ginger ale to the gingery! 'A quart of ale is a dish for a king,'" he said, holding up a gla.s.s. "That's Shakespeare, Miss Minnie."

I was a good bit more cheerful when I'd choked down the sandwich, especially when he a.s.sured me the water was all right--"a little high, as you might say, but not poisonous. Lord, I wish you could have seen them staggering into my office!"

"I saw enough," I said with a s.h.i.+ver.

"That German, von Inwald," he went on, "he's the limit. He accused us of poisoning him for reasons of state!"

"Where are they now?"

"My dear girl," he answered, putting down his gla.s.s, "what has been pounded into me ever since I struck the place? The baths! I prescribe 'em all day and dream 'em all night. Where are the poisonees now?

They are steaming, stewing, exuding in the hot rooms of the bath department--all of them, every one of them! In the hold and the hatches down!"

He picked up the pail and went down the steps to the spring.

"After all," he said, "it won't hurt to take out a little of this and pour it on the ground. It ought to be good fertilizer." He stooped.

"'Come, gentle spring, ethereal mildness, come,'" he quoted, and dipped in the pail.

Just then somebody fell against the door and stumbled into the room. It was Tillie, as white as milk, and breathing in gasps.

"Quick!" she screeched, "Minnie, quick!"

"What is it?" I asked, jumping up. She'd fallen back against the door-frame and stood with her hand clutching her heart.

"That dev--devil--Mike!" she panted. "He has turned on the steam in the men's baths and gone--gone away!"

"With people in the bath?" Doctor Barnes asked, slamming down the pail.

Tillie nodded.

"Then why in creation don't they get out of the baths until we can shut off the steam?" I demanded, grabbing up my shawl. But Tillie shook her head in despair.

"They can't," she answered, "he's hid their clothes!"

The next thing I recall is running like mad up the walk with Doctor Barnes beside me, steadying me by the arm. I only spoke once that I remember and that was just as we got to the house,

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Where There's a Will Part 27 summary

You're reading Where There's a Will. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Mary Roberts Rinehart. Already has 410 views.

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