Concerning Sally Part 18

But Fox would not wait. "Sally," he said, interrupting her, "what makes you think that Miss Martha Hazen is in existence at all. You've never seen her. I'll bet there's no such a person and never was. She's a myth."

"What'll you bet?" she asked promptly.

"Anything you like."

"No, I won't bet, for it wouldn't be fair." This settled it for Sally.

In that respect she was different from her father. She was different from her father in some other important respects, too. "Which hand will you have, Fox?"

"I guess I'd better have both."

So Sally brought both hands around into view and cast a letter into his lap. Her eyes danced. "There!" she said. "Now, what'll you bet?"

Doctor Galen was leaning against the railing and Henrietta could not keep still.

"Oh, Fox," she cried, "open it and let's hear what she says. Sally showed it to us and we know about it."

"Open it, Sanderson," the doctor put in; "don't keep us all in the dark. It's suspense that kills."

So Sanderson opened it and read it. It was not a long letter.

The others grew impatient. "Come, come," said the doctor, "tell us. It doesn't matter what you wrote to her. What does she say?"

"She says," said Fox, smiling, "that, as of course she didn't know me, she has been obliged to have all my statements investigated. That accounts for the delay. She has found them all to be true. Gratifying, isn't it? But the important thing is that she offers to take Sally to live with her and agrees to educate her properly--if Sally will go."

They were all very sober and n.o.body spoke. Sally was solemn and the tears came slowly. None of them had contemplated this, Sally least of all. She felt as if there had been an earthquake or some such convulsion of nature.

"Well, Sally," Fox went on at last, in a low voice, "it seems to be up to you. Will you go?"

"Oh, I don't know," Sally's eyes were wide with anxiety and with doubt, and the tears dropped slowly, one by one. "How can I, all of a sudden? It's a tremendous surprise. I don't want to, but if it will help more than staying at home, I'll go." Suddenly an idea seemed to have struck her. It must have given her great relief, for the tears stopped and she looked happy once more. "But," she said eagerly, "how can I? Who will take care of mother? And what would we do with Charlie? Really, Fox, I don't see how I can go."

Strangely enough, Fox seemed to be relieved, too. At any rate, he smiled as though he were.

"Sure enough," he replied, "how can you? We might possibly manage about your mother," he added, with a glance at the doctor, "but Charlie is a problem."

Doctor Galen had nodded, in answer to that glance of Fox's. "You needn't worry about your mother, Sally," he said then. "We would take good care of her. Do you know that I have a sanitarium for just such patients? There are nurses and everything to make it convenient. And there are no bothering children--with their brothers--always underfoot." As he said that, the doctor smiled and rested his hand, for a moment, on Henrietta's shoulder. Henrietta turned and laughed up at him.

"A base libel," Fox remarked. "But all that doesn't take care of Charlie."

"Might farm him out," the doctor suggested. "What do you think of that idea, Sally?"

"I don't believe I know what you mean," she answered. "Charlie wouldn't be much good on a farm, although I suppose a farm would be a good place for him. Some farms would," she added.

"It depends on the farm, doesn't it?" said Fox. "It generally does.

But don't you care what the doctor meant, Sally. He didn't mean anything, probably. We aren't going to farm Charlie out anyway. What shall I say to Martha? That's the immediate point."

Sally chuckled. "I'll write to Martha," she said, as soon as she could speak; "that is, if you'll let me. I'll thank her ever so much for offering to take me, and I'll tell her why I can't come. May I, Fox?"

"All right." Fox tossed her the letter. "And, Sally," he called softly, for she had started into the house, meaning to write her letter at once. "Sally, if Martha answers your letter, you tell me what she says."

So Sally wrote to Martha. It took her a long time and she used up several sheets of her mother's best note-paper before she got a letter written that she was satisfied to send. Miss Hazen was longer in replying, although she was not so long as she had been in replying to Fox. Sally did not care. Indeed, she did not give the matter a thought. She considered the question settled.

It was not. Miss Hazen must have liked Sally's letter, for she grudgingly consented to have Charlie come, too, if that was all that stood in the way of Sally's acceptance of her offer. This was a surprise to everybody; to none of them more than to Miss Hazen herself. She had no liking for young children. But she did it. There seemed to be no escape for Sally now, and she put the letter in Fox's hand without a word.

"What's the matter, Sally?" he asked, shocked at her tragic face. "Has the bottom dropped out?"

Sally smiled, but her chin quivered. "It seems to me that it has. You read it, Fox."

So Fox read it. He was very sober when he looked up and it was a long time before he spoke.

"Well," he said at last, whimsically, "Martha's put her foot in it this time, hasn't she? What do you think you're going to do?"

"I don't see how I can refuse any longer," Sally answered, her voice quivering as well as her chin. "Charlie was the only objection that I could think of; the only real objection. I s'pose I'll have to go now, and take Charlie."

Fox did not reply immediately.

Sally's chin quivered more and more, and her tears overflowed. "Oh, Fox," she wailed, "I don't want to. I don't want to leave mother and home and--and everybody."

Fox drew her toward him and patted her shoulder. "There, there, Sally," he said gently. "You shan't go if you don't want to. We'll manage somehow. Don't feel so badly, Sally. Don't."

Sally's fit of crying was already over. Her tears ceased and she felt for her handkerchief.

"I won't," she said, with a pitiful little attempt at a smile. "I'm not going to cry any more. Have--have you got a handkerchief, Fox?"

Fox wiped her eyes. "We'll call a council of war," he said; "you and Doctor Galen and I will talk it over and decide what shall be done.

Not about Martha," he added hastily. "That's settled, Sally, if you don't want to go. I'll write to her and tell her that you can't come."

"No," Sally protested earnestly, "it's not settled; at least, not that way. I'll go if--if that's the best thing for us. I was only crying because--because I hate to think of leaving. I can't help that, you know, Fox."

"I know, Sally. I've been through it all."

"And so our council of war," Sally continued, "will decide about that, too."

The council of war held a long and earnest session and eventually decided that it was best for Sally to accept Miss Hazen's offer and to go to Whitby. Sally acquiesced in the decision, but it seemed to Fox necessary to do a little explaining.

"You know, Sally," he said, "your mother is likely to be a long time in getting back her health. She won't be herself for a number of years. It would only be painful to you--"

"I know all that, Fox," Sally interrupted, a little impatiently. She had had it pretty thoroughly drummed into her. "I know all that, and it doesn't make any difference whether I think so or not. I see that it's the best thing for us all that Charlie and I should go, and we will go. That's settled. But you will write to me often, and let me know how mother gets along--and tell me the news, won't you?"

"Why, of course I am going to," Fox cried with emphasis. "What did you think--that we were going to let you slip away from us suddenly, altogether? Not much. I'm going to write you every blessed week. And see that you answer my letters every week, too."

Sally felt comparatively cheerful once more. "I will," she answered, smiling.

"Bless your heart!" said Fox.

Doctor Galen looked aggrieved.

"And where do I come in?" he asked. "Aren't you going to promise to write me, too? Your mother will be at my sanitarium and I have a good mind to give orders that Fox Sanderson is to be told nothing about her. Then you would have to get your information from me."

"I didn't s'pose you'd care to have me, you're so busy." Sally was pleased. "But I'd love to, Doctor, I'd love to. Do you really want me to?"