Revelations of a Wife Part 24

"Nonsense," I replied. "I never take cold, and we are almost there."

"I am so glad," she sighed, and leaned more heavily against me.

As I felt her weight in my arms and realized that she was actually clinging to me, actually depending upon me for help and comfort, I felt my heart warm toward her.

I have never worked faster in my life than when I helped my mother-in-law undress before the blazing gas log, put her nightgown and heavy bathrobe around her and immersed her feet in the foot bath of hot mustard water which Katie had brought to me.

As I worked over her I came to a decision. I would get her safe and warm in bed, leave Katie within call, then slip out and telephone d.i.c.ky from the neighboring drug store. I did not dare to send for a physician against my mother-in-law's expressed prohibition. On the other hand, I knew that d.i.c.ky would be very angry if I did not send for one.

The hot footbath and the steaming drink which I had given her when she first came in, together with the warmth of the gas log seemed to make my mother-in-law more comfortable. As I dried her feet and slipped them into a pair of warm bedroom slippers she smiled down at me.

"At least I am not cold now," she said.

"Don't you think you had better come and lie down now?" I asked.

"Yes, I think it would be better," she a.s.serted, and with Katie and me upon either side, she walked into her room and got into bed.

I slipped the bedroom slippers off, put one hot water bag to her feet and the other to her back, covered her up warmly and lowered the shade.

Her eyes closed immediately. I stood watching her breathing for two or three minutes. It was heavier, I fancied than normal. As I went out of the room I spoke in a low tone to Katie, directing her to watch her till I returned.

As I descended the stairs all the doubts of the morning rushed over me. It was long after 2 o'clock, the hour when d.i.c.ky usually returned to the studio. I had jumped at the conclusion that d.i.c.ky was lunching with Grace Draper, the beautiful art student who was his model and protege.

It was not so much anger that I felt at d.i.c.ky's lunching with another woman as fear. I faced the issue frankly. Grace Draper was much too beautiful and attractive a girl to be thrown into daily intimate companions.h.i.+p with any man. I felt in that moment that I hated her as much as I feared her. I hoped that it would not be her voice which I would hear over the 'phone. I felt that I could not bear to listen to those deep, velvety tones of hers.

But when I reached the drug store and entered the telephone booth, it was her voice which answered my call of d.i.c.ky's number.

"Yes, this is Mr. Graham's studio," she said smoothly. "No, Mr. Graham is not here, he has not been here since 11 o'clock. Pardon me, is this not Mrs. Graham to whom I am speaking?"

"I am Mrs. Graham, yes," I replied, trying to put a little cordiality into my voice. "You are Miss Draper, are you not?"

"Yes," she replied. "Mr. Graham wished me to give you a message. He was called away to a conference with one of the art editors about 11 o'clock. He expected to lunch with him and said he might not be in the studio until quite late this afternoon."

"Have you any idea where he is lunching or where I could reach him?" I asked sharply.

"Why! no, Mrs. Graham, I have not. Is there anything wrong?"

"His mother has been taken ill and I am very much worried about her.

If Mr. Graham comes in or telephones will you ask him to come home at once, 'phoning me first if he will."

"Of course I will attend to it. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Nothing, thank you, you are very kind," I returned, and there was genuine warmth in my voice this time.

For the discovery that I had been mistaken in my idea of d.i.c.ky's luncheon engagement made me so ashamed of myself that I had no more rancor against my husband's beautiful protege.

I laughed bitterly at my own silliness as I turned from the telephone.

While I had been tormenting myself for hours at the picture I had drawn of d.i.c.ky and his beautiful model lunching vis-a-vis, d.i.c.ky had been keeping a prosaic business engagement with a man, and his model had probably lunched frugally and unromantically on a sandwich or two brought from home.

XVIII

"CALL ME MOTHER--IF YOU CAN"

"Will you kindly tell me who is the best physician here?"

"Why--I--pardon me--" the drug store clerk stammered. "Wait a moment and I'll inquire. I'm new here."

"The boss says this chap's the best around here." He held out a penciled card to me. "Dr. Pett.i.t. Madison Square 4258."

"Dr. Pett.i.t!" I repeated to myself. "Why! that must be the physician who came to the apartment the night of my chafing dish party, when the baby across the hall was brought to us in a convulsion."

A sudden swift remembrance came to me of the tact and firmness with which the tall young physician had handled the difficult situation he had found in our apartment. He was just the man, I decided, to handle my refractory mother-in-law. So I called him up and he promised to call as soon as his office hours were over.

My feet traveled no faster than my thoughts as I hurried back to my own apartment and the bedside of my mother-in-law. I dreaded inexpressibly the conflict I foresaw when the autocratic old woman should find out that I had sent for a physician against her wishes.

As I entered the living room Katie rose from her seat at the door of my mother-in-law's room.

"She not move while you gone," she said. "She sleep all time, but I 'fraid she awful seeck, she breathe so hard."

I went lightly into the bedroom and stood looking down upon the austere old face against the pillow. It was a flushed old face now, and the eyelids twitched as if there were pain somewhere in the body.

Her breathing, too, was more rapid and heavy than when I had left her, or so I fancied.

My inability to do anything for her depressed me. By slipping my hand under the blankets I had ascertained that the hot water bags were sufficiently warm. There was nothing more for me to do but to sit quietly and watch her until the physician's arrival.

I wanted to bring Dr. Pett.i.t to her bedside before she should awaken. Then I would let him deal with her obstinate refusal to see a physician. But how I wished that d.i.c.ky would come home.

As if I had rubbed Aladdin's lamp, I heard the hall door slam, and my husband came rus.h.i.+ng into the room.

"What is the matter with mother?" d.i.c.ky demanded, his face and voice filled with anxiety.

I sprang to him and put my hand to his lips, for he had almost shouted the words.

"Hus.h.!.+ She is asleep," I whispered. "Don't waken her if you can help it."

"Why isn't there a doctor here?" he demanded fiercely.

"Dr. Pett.i.t will be here in a very few moments," I whispered rapidly.

"Your mother said she would not have a physician, but she appeared so ill I did not dare to wait until your return to the studio. I telephoned you, and when Miss Draper said she did not know where to get you, I 'phoned to Dr. Pett.i.t on my own authority."

"You don't think mother is in any danger, do you, Madge?"

"Why, I don't think I am a good judge of illness," I answered, evasively, unwilling to hurt d.i.c.ky by the fear in my heart. "The physician ought to be here any minute now, and then we will know."

A sharp, imperative ring of the bell and Katie's entrance punctuated my words. d.i.c.ky started toward the door as Katie opened it to admit the tall figure of Dr. Pett.i.t.