“I wonder why Miss Ella and Louise don’t get here,” Helen said to Dr. Wright, who had at last persuaded her to sit out one dance with him. “They have had plenty of time even with their slow old horse.”
They had found a sofa in the back hall behind a clump of palms. There were many plants artistically grouped by the florist from town, who had tastefully decorated the whole mansion.
“The telephone has been ringing a great deal since we came. Could they be trying to get the count? I always feel like jumping when the ’phone rings, feeling that it must be for me.”
“Oh, no! The ring for Weston is two long and three short rings. These country ’phones are hard to learn, but I often answer the one at Grantly for my old friends.”
“Listen, there goes the bell again! Goodness! I believe one of these ’phones that rings everybody’s number would send me crazy.”
“They say you get used to them. That is four shorts and a long. That’s for Dr. Allison, who lives miles and miles from here. Don’t you remember Page Allison, that lovely girl who came to Greendale with the Tucker twins? It is her father.”
“Of course I do, and I know Dr. Allison, too! A delightful gentleman!”
“I believe I’ll call up Miss Ella and see what is the matter, – why they don’t come on.”
George Wright sighed. There always seemed to be something to keep Helen from talking to him tête-à-tête. Still, he felt glad to think that Helen was so fond of these old ladies and so thoughtful of them.
The telephone was under the stairway, quite near their retired nook. Helen rang the number for Grantly and there was a quick response.
“Hello!” came in Miss Louise’s contralto notes.
“Miss Louise, this is Helen Carter! Why haven’t you started yet? Don’t you know the count can’t give a ball without you and Miss Ella?”
“Oh, my dear, my sister is ill, very ill, – fainted just as we were getting ready to leave. You see she would make that cake, that angel’s food, although I told her I was going to make a fruit cake, but you know Ella – Oh, but how can I rattle along this way? I have been trying so hard to get Dr. Allison and he doesn’t answer.”
“Wait a minute, Miss Louise,” and Helen put her hand over the receiver and turned to Dr. Wright.
“Dr. Wright, will you take me to Grantly? Miss Ella has had a fainting fit – a stroke, I am afraid it is.”
“Take you! My dear, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
“Miss Louise, Dr. Wright is going to bring me to Grantly in his automobile immediately. Don’t worry; we will be there soon.”
She rang off quickly and flew upstairs for her wraps. Chloe was not in the dressing-room, but she quickly unearthed her cape and hood from the bed where the many shawls and cloaks had been piled. On the way out she whispered to Nan where she was going, but told her not to tell the others, as she did not want to break up the ball or to cast a shadow on the happiness of the dancers.
CHAPTER XVIII
ANGEL’S FOOD
Not a sound or glimmer of light in Paradise as they speeded silently through the settlement! The club, too, was deserted.
“I think you are splendid to be willing to give up this ball to go to the aid of these old ladies,” said Dr. Wright, drawing the rug more closely around Helen, as the air was quite nipping.
“Why, the idea of my not doing it! You must think I’m nothing but a heartless butterfly.”
“I think you are anything but one. You love dancing, though, so much. I should have come alone. Somehow I couldn’t make up my mind to forego the ride alone with you. Isn’t it a beautiful night?”
The stars were shining brightly but the lazy moon had not yet gotten up.
“If we find the poor old lady not too ill, I’ll take you back to the dance after we have made her comfortable. There will be a moon to light our way later on.”
“That will be fine! Maybe they won’t even miss us. But somehow I have a feeling that Miss Ella is very ill.”
“Five minutes more will decide the question. Hasn’t my new car eaten up distance, though? Just think, in old days what a time sick persons had to wait for a physician without telephones and without cars!”
“Dr. Allison still drives a fast horse to a light buggy. Page says he will none of horseless carriages. I believe it is only recently that he has submitted to a telephone.”
“It is a good thing his medical theories have not kept pace with his means of locomotion, or he would be a back number sure.”
Valhalla was very quiet, peacefully sleeping under the stars. What a haven of refuge it had been to the Carters! Helen looked lovingly at the picturesque roof lines as the car glided rapidly past.
“Do you know, I think that must be the most restful place in all the world? I have grown so attached to the little tumbledown house, leaks and cracks, smoking stove and all.”
“Hasn’t it been awfully hard on you?”
“Not any harder on me than on the others!”
“I can’t tell you what I think of all of you Carter girls for the way you have grappled with the winter in the country. I think you have had the hot end of it, too.”
There flashed through Helen’s mind a picture of the first time she saw the young doctor, in the library of their pretty home in Richmond. There had been no approval in his cold glance then, nothing but censure and severity. She had deserved it all. Did she deserve the praise he gave her now?
“The hot end is better than the cold end during the winter months,” she laughed. “At least I can stay snugly in the kitchen and not have to go out in all weathers like poor Douglas and the other girls.”
Miss Louise met them at the door, tears rolling down her fat cheeks. She still was dressed in her stiff black silk but had tied on a great gingham apron over her best dress.
“How good of you to come to us!” was all she could sob out.
“You should have sent for us immediately,” said Helen, putting her arms around the trembling old woman.
“Ella always wants Dr. Allison, and I hated so to break up the pleasure of the young people.”
“Where is your sister?” asked Dr. Wright, taking off his gloves and great coat, and extracting a small leather case from its pocket.
“I got her to bed after she came to.”
“She is conscious then?”
“Yes, but very low, very low. She has been so docile I am afraid she is going to die,” and the poor lady began to weep anew.
“Let me go in with the doctor,” insisted Helen. “I can do what is necessary and you might scare Miss Ella. She mustn’t be made to think she is so ill.”
The tall form of Miss Ella was stretched on the great four-posted bed, and so still was it that for a moment Helen was afraid to go near.
“She might be dead! She might be dead!” her heart cried out, but she shut her mouth very tight and advanced bravely up to the bedside.
“Miss Ella, Dr. Wright has come to see you. Dr. Allison will be here later on perhaps.”
“I’ll be better in a few moments. I must have fainted,” she said weakly. “I ought not to have tried the angel food cake. It is so tedious. Louise told me not to, but I was very headstrong.”
Helen looked up apprehensively at the doctor, who was feeling the patient’s pulse. It did seem rather ominous for Miss Ella to be so humble and to confess that Louise’s judgment was of any importance.
“What did you eat for dinner?” asked the doctor.
“I – I – don’t remember.”
“Think!”
“I reckon I ate some bread.”
“Nothing else?”
“I can’t remember.”
At a nod from the doctor Helen went out to seek this information from Miss Louise, whom she found huddled up on the hall sofa.
“Eat for dinner! I am sure I don’t know. She wouldn’t eat when I did and I do believe she didn’t eat anything.”
“How about supper?”
“Oh, we neither one of us ate any supper. We felt it would be discourteous to the count after all the trouble and expense he must have gone to, with caterers from Richmond and all.”
Helen flew back to the bedside of Miss Ella.
“She ate no dinner that Miss Louise can remember and neither one of them ate any supper,” she cried.
“Well, of course she fainted then. Can you take the matter in hand and get some toast and tea for both of them? Miss Louise will be toppling over next.”
Helen was intimate enough with the old sisters to know just where they kept everything and in short order she had a tray ready for poor half-starved Miss Ella.
“It was not a stroke at all,” Dr. Wright assured the anxious sister. “Nothing but hunger.”
“I told her to eat,” and Miss Louise looked venomously at the invalid.
“I came to get my dinner and you had taken all the breast of the chicken. I wasn’t going to eat your leavings,” declared Miss Ella, color coming back into her wan cheeks and the fire of battle to her faded eyes. Helen laughed happily. The sisters were quarreling again and everything was assuming a more normal aspect.
“Now both of you ladies must get to bed,” insisted the doctor, after Miss Louise had been persuaded to eat some of Helen’s good toast.
“I think you have had ball enough for tonight.” He looked at his watch. “I will take you back to Weston,” he whispered to Helen.
Helen would not go until both of her old friends were tucked peacefully in their great bed and then, kissing them good-night, she stole quietly from the room. She was greatly relieved that things had turned out so well and delighted that she was to be taken back to the ball.
“It’s pretty nice to do your duty and still have a good time,” she said to herself.
Dr. Wright was waiting in the hall for her. He silently bundled her up in her cape and hood and together they stepped on the gallery.
The lazy moon was up now and outshining the faithful stars. The great box bushes and thick hedge cast deep shadows across the lawn. The two stood for a moment in silence, drinking in the beauty of the scene.
“We can’t lock the front door,” said Dr. Wright finally. “I see it has an old-fashioned great brass key and the only way to lock it is to fasten the old ladies in the house.”
“Why, nothing will ever hurt those dear old folks,” laughed Helen. “There are as safe as can be. They tell me they often go to bed without locking doors. They usually have a quarrel about whether the front door has been locked or not, and get so excited they both forget to do it.”
CHAPTER XIX
A LITTLE LEARNING
“Listen! What is that?”
A low rumble of voices was heard, coming from the rear of Grantly.
“Could it be the dancers coming home?” suggested Helen.
“No, not from that direction!”
The rumble increased to a roar, low but continuous. Evidently a great many persons were talking or muttering and they were getting closer and closer.
“Let’s have a light, so we kin see!” said a voice louder and clearer than the rest, and then there was a guffaw from many throats.
“A lot of darkies!” gasped Helen. “What can they be doing here?”
“You go inside and I’ll see,” commanded the young man.
“I’ll do no such thing! I’ll go with you and see. If I go in the house again I’ll wake Miss Ella and Miss Louise up, and you said yourself that it was most important for them to have a night of unbroken rest.”
“Helen, I insist!”
“But I’m not going to be sent back in the house while you go get shot up or something, so there!”
“Shot up! The idea! It is nothing but some late revelers going home. Perhaps the darkies have been having a ball somewhere, too.”
“Perhaps, but they have no business coming through Grantly.”
There was a hoarse shout from the rear and suddenly a light shot up into the sky.
“The straw stack! They are burning the straw stack!” cried Helen.
George Wright quietly opened the great front door and picking Helen up in his arms, carried her into the hall. He put her down and hastily closed the door. Helen heard the great brass key turn in the lock.
It was very dark in the hall. She groped her way along the wall. It was all she could do to keep from screaming, but remembering her two old friends, now no doubt peacefully snoozing, she held herself in check. Suddenly she bumped square into the telephone.
“I’ll give a hurry call for the whole neighborhood,” she cried, and no sooner thought than done. It was said afterwards that no such ringing of a ’phone had ever been heard before in the county.
“Grantly on fire and a great crowd of negro brutes in the yard!” was the message that was sent abroad.
The two old ladies slept peacefully on. Helen could hear the deep stertorous snore, Miss Louise’s specialty, and the high steam-whistle pipe that Miss Ella was given to.
“I can’t stand this!” cried the girl. “They may be killing him this minute; and he expects me to stay shut up in this house while he gets shot to death!”
She felt her way back to the kitchen where she could see well enough, thanks to the fire that the desperadoes had kindled. She cautiously unlocked the door and stepped out on the back porch.
The negroes were dancing around the burning stack, led by a tall gangling man whom Helen recognized as Tempy’s slue-footed admirer, James Hanks. Some of them seemed to be rather the worse for drink, and all of them were wild-eyed and excited-looking.
“Come on, gent’men!” cried the leader. “Let’s git our loot while we’s got light a-plenty. The ol’ tabbies is safe at the count’s ball, safe an’ stuffin’.”
There was a shout of laughter at this witticism. Helen was trembling with fright, but not fright for herself. The dear old ladies were uppermost in her mind, and the doctor! Her doctor! Where was he? Would he tackle all of those crazy, half-drunk brutes single-handed and not even armed?
A sudden thought came to her. She slipped back into the kitchen. Remembering the box tacked to the wall, just over the kerosene stove where the matches were kept, she felt along the wall until her hand touched it. Then armed with these matches she crept back through the house to the great parlor where the trophies of the dead and gone great-uncle, the traveler in the Orient, were. She cautiously struck a match, thankful that the parlor was on the other side of the house from the fire, and seized at random what old arms she could lay her hands on: a great sword, that Richard the Lion-Hearted might have wielded, an Arabian scimiter and a light, curiously wrought shield. The sword was heavy but she managed to stagger along the hall with her load.
“Now remember, friends an’ citizens!” James Hanks was saying as he harangued the crowd. “This here prop’ty by rights b’longs to us. Ain’t we an’ our fo’bars done worked this here lan’ from time in memoriam? Ain’t we tilled the sile an’ hoed the craps fur these ol’ tabbies an’ what is we got to show fur it? Nothin’! Nothin’, I say! All we is a-doin’ on this sacred night is takin’ what is ourn. ’Tain’t meet nor right fur two ol’ women to hab control of all these fair lands, livin’ in luxry, wallowin’ in honey an’ rollin’ in butter, while we colored ladies an’ gent’men is fo’ced to habit pig stys an’ thankful to git sorghum an’ drippin’s. Don’t none of you go into this here undertakin’ ’thout you is satisfied you is actin’ up to principles. All what considers it they bounden duty to git back what is by rights theirn, jes’ step forward.”
Helen counted fifteen men as they reeled forward.
Where was Dr. Wright? Was he hearing the speech that the perfidious James was making? And the old ladies – were they still sleeping? The back porch was littered up with various barrels and boxes, and behind these Helen crouched. Of course she realized that the darkies thought that Grantly was empty and that they intended to break in and take what treasures they could find. Would they be scared off when they found someone was in the house, or would they feel that they had gone too far to retreat in their infamous undertaking? Whatever was to be the outcome, she must find the doctor and help him, die by his side if necessary.
What an ending to the ball, the ball where she had danced so gaily and happily! Had they missed them yet? She had not been able to tell what ’phones had answered her hurry call. She had only known that several persons got on the line and that her message had reached some ears, but whose she could not say.
The mob had started towards the front.
“Yes, we’ll go in the front way, now an’ ever after,” growled the leader. “Only las’ week that ol’ skinny Ella done driv me to the back do’. I come up the front way jes’ to tes’ her an’ she sent me roun’ to the back jes’ lak some dog. Whin we gits through, I reckon she’ll be glad enough if she’s got a back do’ to go in.”
Helen waited to hear no more but streaked around the opposite side of the house, bearing her ancient weapons. Peeping through the railing of the great gallery in front she espied George Wright calmly standing in the doorway which was flooded with moonlight.
CHAPTER XX
IN THE MEANTIME
Nan and Billy Sutton were the only persons at Weston who knew that Helen and Dr. Wright had left the house, and they, according to instructions, had kept mum.
“I hate for Helen to miss one teensy bit of the ball,” Nan said. “She does so adore dancing.”
“I should think she would. Anybody who can dance like that ought to like it. I think she is a ripper to go to those old grouches.”
“Now, Billy, that is no way to talk! Those old ladies are really lovely. You would have gone to them in a minute.”
“Well, maybe! But I wouldn’t have enjoyed leaving this to go.”
“Perhaps they will be able to come back. Miss Louise is an awful alarmist.”
Supper was served, the waiters from Richmond taking affairs into their own hands, so that the untrained country servants at Weston were pushed into the background.
“Miss Helen done said I’s got quite a el’gant air in serving,” grumbled Chloe, when she was not allowed to bear in the trays of dainties to the hungry guests. “I reckon these here town niggers thinks they is the king bees. I don’t care what they says, I’s gonter git a sicond hep ter my Miss Helen.”
The girl filled a tray with salad, croquettes, sandwiches and what not and made her way into the parlors. She peered around for her young mistress. The rooms were well filled with the country guests and many couples were having their supper in the nooks made by the skilful decorators of clumps of palms and evergreens. Chloe peeped behind them all and not finding her Miss Helen she went to Douglas.
“Whar Miss Helen?”
“Why, I don’t know, Chloe! What do you want?”
“I want my Miss Helen ter git her fill er victuals she ain’t had ter mess in.”
“I haven’t seen her,” laughed Douglas. “Ask Miss Nan.”
“Miss Nan, whar Miss Helen?”
“Why, Chloe, she has gone away but may be back later.”
“Whar she gone?”
“She told me not to tell, because she doesn’t want to disturb the others, but she has gone with Dr. Wright to see Miss Ella Grant, who is ill.”
“Miss Ellanlouise is here to the ball, ain’t they?”
“No, they didn’t come.”
“Miss Helen ain’t gone ter Grantly, is she?”
“Of course!”
Then poor Chloe dropped her tray, laden with goodies for her beloved mistress, and a mixture of salad and croquettes and sandwiches rolled over the floor.
“My Gawd! My Gawd!” shrieked the girl. “Whar the count? Whar Mr. Carter? Whar that secondary?”
“What is it?” demanded the count sternly, as he stepped over the débris.
“My Miss Helen done gone ter Grantly!”
“Is that so? Why did she leave?”
His calm tones quieted the girl a little.
“She done gone with Dr. Wright – ”
“Miss Ella Grant is ill and Helen went with Dr. Wright to look after her,” put in Nan. “I don’t know why Chloe is so excited.”
By this time the guests were crowding around the corner where Nan and Billy had ensconced themselves for what they thought was to be a quiet little supper.
“’Cited! I tell you, you’d better git a move on you, you count and you secondary. The niggers is planning no good fur Grantly this night.”
“What negroes?” asked the count.
“’Tain’t no diffunce what niggers! You git out that little red devil of a mobile an’ you licksplit ter Grantly as fas’ as you kin, an’ you take mo’n one gun.”
If everybody had not been wrought up to a high pitch of excitement, they would have been amused to see this ignorant country black girl handing out orders to the Count de Lestis as though she were a duchess and he a stable boy.
The count motioned to Herz and they turned and left the room.
“I get in on this!” cried Lewis Somerville.
“And I! And I!” from every male throat in the room.
Many of the farmers had pistols with them, deeming it more prudent to go armed on midnight drives through the lonely districts. Mrs. Carter fainted when it was explained to her where her daughter had gone and what the danger was. For once in her life, however, her husband had no thought for her. He left her to the ministrations of the farmer’s wife in the stiff green silk, and hastened out to climb on the running-board of the count’s little car, which was already under way.
In what seemed like a moment since the poor Chloe had dropped her tray, there was not a single white male left at Weston, except Bobby Carter and he was only left because Lucy held him, scratching and fighting to go to the rescue of his precious sister. Even the musicians from Richmond had joined the posse. The negro waiters stepped gingerly around with many superior airs, congratulating themselves that they were as they were and not as the ignorant country blacks.
Chloe sat on the floor and rocked and moaned, refusing to be comforted.
“I done what she tol’ me was right!” was her cryptic remark which none understood.
“Why do we wait here?” asked Douglas, who was pale as death.
Mrs. Carter had been revived and was lying on a sofa.
“Why, indeed! Let’s get in the hay wagon and go,” said Nan.
“Who can drive it?”
“I!” cried the redoubtable Mrs. Sutton.
Almost all of the carriages and buggies had been requisitioned by the masculine element but the hay wagon remained and a few other vehicles. The horses were quickly unblanketed by the women with the help of the waiters. Mrs. Carter and Douglas were the last to leave the house, as the poor nervous lady was kept quiet until they were ready to start.
Just as they were going out the door Douglas heard a violent ringing of the telephone. Knowing the peculiarities of a country connection and its way of ringing at every house, and also knowing that the long, violent, protracted ringing meant emergency of some sort, Douglas ran to answer it. She distinctly heard Helen’s voice crying the alarm:
“Grantly on fire and a great crowd of negro brutes in the yard!”
“What is it, my dear?” feebly asked Mrs. Carter.
“Nothing at all!” said Douglas calmly. She felt that such a message would only upset her poor mother more, and it was best to keep it locked within her own panting breast.
If any of the persons in that hay wagon should live to be a thousand years old they could never forget that terrible ride over the rough, muddy roads on that twenty-second of February, 1917.
“Look, the moon is up!” whispered Lucy to Mag, both of them remembering the gay ride to the ball only a few hours before and how they had remarked that it would be so jolly going back because the moon would be up.
“Something’s on fire!” someone cried, and then the heavens were lit by the burning straw stack. A straw stack can make more light in the sky than a Woolworth building if both should be set afire; but the straw burns out so quickly that it is little more than a flash in the pan.
Mrs. Sutton proved a famous Jehu. She managed her team quite as well as Billy. Nan sat up on the high seat by her, looking with admiration at the strong, capable hands.
“Do you think they will be in time?” Nan whispered to her valiant companion.
“Sure they will, my dear! They are there by this time and I believe that fire is nothing but a straw stack. Look, even now how it is dying down! Poor Miss Ella and Miss Louise! They seem to have the faculty of not getting along with the darkies. They are as kind as can be to them when they are sick or in want, but they always have an overbearing manner with them when they are well. I wonder what that girl meant by saying she had done just as Helen had told her.”
“I don’t know. Helen has been so patient with Chloe and has really made a pretty good cook of her. She simply adores Helen. She comes to her with all kinds of questions to answer and problems of life to solve. Do you think these colored men would want to kill Helen just because they are angry with the Misses Grant?”
“No, my dear, I don’t think these colored men would want to kill anybody. God grant they are not drunk! That is the only danger I am fearing. I am not afraid of any sober negro alive, but a drunken one is to be avoided like a rattlesnake.”
“Well, Mrs. Sutton, I just feel somehow that God and Dr. Wright are going to take care of Helen, – and Miss Ella and Miss Louise, too.”
“I am sure of it, my dear. I am so sure of it that I am thanking God for having sent Dr. Wright and Helen to Grantly, – otherwise the poor, foolish old ladies might have been found there by the darkies when they expected the house to be empty, with everyone gone to the ball, and then there is no telling what would have happened.” Mrs. Sutton shuddered as though she were cold.
“I keep on thinking of Dr. Wright’s face, – his keen blue eyes and his jaw, – somehow, I believe that jaw will pull them out safely.”