Spice Box (21 page)

A fresh sea breeze had come up, and it was really chilly.

“Ronald, go and get your overcoat,” said Martha as they gathered, ready to watch the game. “There’s a sea breeze, and it’s really chilly.”

“No chance!” said Ronald amusedly.

“But you
must
!” said Martha. “I can’t have you getting sick from catching cold, away from home.”

Ronald sobered.

“Can’t!” he said firmly.

“Why not?”

“’Cause I haven’t got any,” he said with a grin.

“Do you mean you came down here without your overcoat?” she asked severly.

“Sure!” said Ronald, still grinning. “Didn’t have one to bring. Never owned an overcoat in my life and never expect to.”

“Oh!” gasped Martha. “Well, haven’t you got a sweater or something?”

“Sweater wasn’t fit to bring. Got it half tore off me at the last football game.”

They walked on a few steps down the boardwalk, and then Martha looked up at the window of a big shop along the way and a sudden idea struck her. Her practiced eye scanned the display in the window, and halting at the door, she said, “Wait here just a minute. I want to go in. I won’t be but a minute or two.”

Ronald frowned but tried to look polite.

Martha went in, held a brief conversation with a man behind the counter, and came out with a white sweater over her arm. She held it out to Ronald.

“Will that fit you?” she asked. “Put it on and see if it’s all right. It’s yours.”

The boy looked at it, bewilderment, delight, and incredulous amazement in his face.

“Aw, gee!” he said. “Oh boy! You didn’t go and get that for
me
! Oh boy!” His eyes were like blue stars.

Martha nodded, her own eyes full of pleasure.

He whipped off his coat and on with the sweater in no time. It proved to be all right. Years of experience had made Martha a pretty good judge of size.

“Some class!” went on Ronald, admiring himself. “Boy! Won’t the fellas at home envy me! Boy! I never thought I’d have a
white
sweater! Gee, I gotta crush on myself!”

He stared at himself in the front windows they passed, and turned around to Janice and demanded admiration. He stuck out a bashful hand and shook Martha’s vigoriously.

“I certainly do thank you,” he said. “It’s what I always wanted.” Then he straightened up and walked with his head held high in a self-respecting way.

Of course, they had a good time after that.

Martha learned a lot about football, too. She found she knew what a touchdown was, and which colors on the sweaters represented which teams, and who was left tackle, and a lot of other things. And then they met Blinnie the bashful left tackle himself, and Martha remarked, “We must invite him to supper sometime!” and filled Ronald with supreme delight. But he only said, “Oh boy! That’ll be swell!”

And so Martha stood up with the crowd and added her elderly voice to the yell that rose in favor of Blinnie, and went home numbering yet another boy to her list of exceptions in the way of boys.

S
unday began with a difference of opinion between Martha and Ronald on the subject of church attendance, but in the end, Ronald went to church to please her, and sang with the rest.

But in the afternoon they went to sit out on a pier for a little while to watch the ocean, and Ronald was telling all he had learned from an old sea captain down by the lighthouse. He informed them what kind of boats were passing on the far horizon, interspersing his knowledge with bits of sea stories.

A little child not more than three years old, who had wandered away from her parents who were sitting on the other side of the pier, came to laugh and talk with Ronald for a few minutes and then ran away to play with some shells that someone had given her. She had gold curls and great blue eyes and made a sweet picture. Ronald slumped down in his chair and watched her between the fringes of his eyes. Suddenly they heard a piercing scream, saw a little bright flash of blue skirts and gold hair, a frightened baby face going overboard, and the great gulf of angry waters frothing with foam swallowed her up!

Three men looked down from the railing at the boiling waters beneath and shook their heads.

“Not much chance for anybody down there,” they said gloomily and looked off toward the creeping speck of a lifeboat from the upper pier. “Who does she belong to?”

But Ronald was up like a flash flinging off his sweater, kicking off his shoes.

“That boat’s too far off to get here in time,” said the second man, pointing to the lifeboat.

“Which way is the current?” asked the third man, looking uncertainly down into the water. “Which way will it carry her? I wonder if there is a rope anywhere around we could throw down to her!”

“Chances are she’ll strike the piles,” murmured the first man. “There might be a rope back by the casino. I wonder where the life preservers are?” But he made no move to do anything.

But Ronald was vaulting over the rail, diving into the water, and being engulfed in its flood.

People rushed to the rail now as a great murmur arose from the throng of watchers who had suddenly gathered and watched the brave boy battling with the waves. And in the forefront stood Martha and Janice, white and frantic.

“Plucky little fellow!” said one of the three men behind them. “Too bad we didn’t see him in time to stop him. He’ll never make it! No use! The baby’s gone!”

But out to the right, away from the pier, were two specks, a tiny one, yellow and floating like golden seaweed, and a dark one a little nearer the pier, fighting outward toward the golden speck.

It was then that Janice picked up Ronald’s white sweater and began to wave it frantically toward that little boat that was coming on nearer and nearer. And now the watchers saw the boat had sighted the trouble and was steering toward it. They stood and held their breath and waited.

It was some minutes since the golden speck had been seen on the water, and now the dark one disappeared. Oh God, were they gone? Was it too late? The boat was almost there!

Hours and hours it seemed they watched, as the boat drew nearer, seemed to halt, maneuver, and then come toward the shore. Oh, the long distance to come before they would know. The weeping of the child’s mother could be heard.

But at last the boat drew near enough for them to see. There was someone
—something
lying in the bottom. And then the strong men who manned it sprang out, one with a burden in his arms.

It was then the three men who had been watching bestirred themselves to show what men they were.

A great rough sailor in oilskins came splashing through the water bearing the little maid with dripping golden hair, clinging blue dress, and laid her in her mother’s arms. She was alive, they said. The boy had saved her. He had caught her by the hair and held her till the lifeboat reached her. But they must both have attention at once.

And there was Ronald, lying white and still in the bottom of the boat, one arm hanging limply by his side. He had broken it against the pile in that first wave after his dive.

With grave faces and tender hands those rough men lifted him and bore him to the blankets that kind hands had brought. A watcher from the lifeguard station hurried up on a motorcycle; a doctor came; a plain, gray-haired woman knelt silently by the boy’s side; and the crowd waited and watched. Everything that science could do for Ronald’s flickering life was being done. And yet it seemed it was an hour before the boy opened his blue eyes and set them upon Martha’s face. He gave one comprehensive glance around and then weakly said, “Aw, gee, Miss Spicer, that wasn’t nothing. I’m gonta get up in a minute.”

They got him to the house wrapped in blankets and plied him with hot water bottles and stimulants. At last he looked up and asked, “Did I get the little kid? I somehow got kinda nutty and can’t remember.”

And when they told him she was coming around all right he murmured softly, “Boy, she was a pretty little kid and awful light!”

It was then that Martha broke down and wept, and cried out softly to him, “Oh, my dear,
dear
boy! How I love you!”

Kneeling there beside his bed where he lay with a contented grin on his young face, and her hand held tight in the grip of his unhurt right hand, she did not remember how she used to think all boys were a torment.

The baby’s father came hobbling in on crutches to thank the young hero, and after he had gone, Martha and the Robertses and Janice made some plans. Ronald, of course, would not be able to return in the morning, but Janice and Mrs. Roberts could easily look after him with the help of a nurse, if necessary. Mr. Roberts declared his intention of going to the city in the morning. He had men who were finishing a job that he must look after. He said he would tell Ronald’s mother and ask permission to keep him at the shore till he was able to travel. But Martha felt that she should go herself. Besides, if Mr. Roberts wanted to set his men at work soon she must be there at least for a day or so to put away some things and superintend some men to move her things into a place of safety where they would not be in the way while the workmen were busy.

“If your house is in shape for the work to begin, I’ll start tomorrow,” said Roberts. “We’ll get that other job finished by noon, and I can start my men pulling down partitions right away. There’ll have to be some beams set and some shoring up to prevent any cracking of walls.”

Martha gasped and felt suddenly frightened at her temerity in going so far, while yet a thrill of delight passed over her that this lovely change was really about to begin.

“I could get things ready for you by noon if I can find a couple of men to help me move things,” she said. “If it were not for Ronald, of course, I’d go up and stay.”

“We can look after Ronald,” said Janice capably. “Remember, I’m a nurse. But oh, I wish I were able to do the work in the city. Couldn’t you tell me what to do and let me go to your place?”

“No indeed. And remember, you are an invalid yet yourself.”

So it was all arranged for Martha to go up with Mr. Roberts in the morning.

Martha was awake and astir very early the next morning. The sea had put on its sweetest calm, with no hint of the angry tempest that had raged in its waves yesterday.

When she was all ready for her journey, she slipped softly to Ronald’s room and listened outside his door.

To her surprise she heard footsteps thumping around the room, and when she tapped at the door, the boy’s voice bade her come in. And there was Ronald fully dressed in all but his coat, and struggling with his necktie. Somehow he had accomplished the feat of drawing his shirtsleeve over the broken arm, bandages and all, and was standing in front of the mirror, one end of his necktie in his teeth, doing wonders with the well hand in knotting the other end. He was pale but resolute.

“Ronald!
Child!
You ought not to be out of bed,” cried his visitor, aghast.

“This doggone tie won’t get right,” he complained.

“Sit down and let me fix it for you,” she said gently, as one would lure a little child away from danger.

The boy approached her warily. He was white but determined, scarcely a fit subject for feminine petting.

“Now, Ronald,” said Martha determinedly, “you know the doctor said you would get along nicely if you would rest a few days, but you’ve been under a severe strain—”

“Aw, rats! Strain nothing!” interpolated Ronald contemptuously. “Just a little knockout. That wasn’t nothing. I’ve been hurt worse a dozen times playing football. Say, could you just tie that shoe for me? I can’t make it tight. I gotta hustle. It’s almost train time.”

“But Ronald, you’re
not
going home today! I’ve got it all arranged. Mr. Roberts and I are going to the city, and I’ll explain to your mother so she won’t worry, and you are to stay down here all this week. Janice will help you with whatever you need. She’s a nurse, you know, and I’ll fix it all right with your mother. I’m sure she won’t worry.”

“Aw, gee!” said the boy, with a grin. “She won’t worry. This is the third time I’ve broken my arm. She’s used to it. And I ain’t going to stay down here, not on your tintype! What would be the good of staying down here? I can’t go swimming with this rag on my arm, can I? No ma’am, I’m going back. I got a lot to do.”

She laid her arm on his sound arm saying, “Ronald, be reasonable.” But he only laughed.

“What do you take me for?” he asked. “A baby with a rattle? It ain’t any use to nag. I gotta beat it. I got something to do today.”

At the breakfast table the other ladies tried their persuasions but all to no effect, and Martha realized that any further remonstrance was useless.

“I shall go with him, of course, and you will stay here with Mrs. Roberts and help her with her baby. Then she won’t be so tied down,” she said to Janice.

When they had almost reached the city, Ronald sidled into Martha’s seat with her.

“Say, Miss Spicer, don’t you go getting any men to move your things. I got some fellas that know how to do things like that. You just decide where you want them, and we’ll move everything in no time.”

She gave him a radiant smile.

“Thank you, Ronald, that’s fine. But you know
you
can’t lift a finger yourself. I won’t stand for that! But you could direct them of course. I’d hate to tell them to be careful, but you can, you know.”

“Okay!” said Ronald, relieved that he did not have to have an argument.

At the station, he rose and said, “Well, I gotta beat it if I wantta get my men. So long.” And he vanished in the crowd.

“Oh, he oughtn’t to,” said Martha, distressed.

“He’ll be all right,” said the architect in an easy tone. “He’s tough. You can’t kill him. He is no sissy.”

Arrived at her home, Martha changed into an old dress and gathered her cat into her arms, laying her cheek against the dirty fur lovingly. Ernestine had evidently missed her. It touched her to hear the pleasant satisfied rumble of her purring now.

Soon she was at work, with the cat following her from room to room. She made short work of gathering books, papers, magazines, the pictures on the walls, everything movable, and stacking them in piles to be carried upstairs. She sent to the store for a tack puller and hauled up the old carpets. They were not to go down again, so they didn’t have to come up carefully. How she hated their ugly, faded colors, and how glad she was to see them out of the way. Some could be sold, some given away, some thrown away. And with their going would vanish a lot of the gloom the house had held!