Read The Tryst (Annotated) (Grace Livingston Hill Book) Online
Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
Tags: #Christian Romance
“She is not here now!” she asserted stiffly, and half rose as though the interview were terminated.
“Then, could you tell me where I could find her?”
“I suppose you might leave a note for her in that envelope and let Miss Fisher send it on to her on her return. That was the direction she gave, was it not?”
Somehow Miss Cole could always manage to put anybody on the grill if she wanted to badly enough.
“Yes, but I must see her at once! You see I have a business paper for her to sign which requires haste and I have been sent out here by her lawyers to hunt her up and get her signature at once!”
“By her lawyers, did you say?” questioned Miss Cole with an almost imperceptible emphasis on the pronoun.
“By the -- ah -- family lawyer, yes. It is a matter that will not wait, and Miss Merrill has been so careless as to leave them in ignorance of the details of her journey!”
“She wasn't sure herself what she would do next,” vouchsafed the lady calmly.
“Oh, then you do know her?” The stranger brightened.
“Well, I know something about her,” she assented. “Now, this paper, what is its nature? Because" -- as she saw he hesitated and looked at her suspiciously – “Miss Fisher had some directions, I believe, if certain papers -- was it one relating to her property?” The game old lady hazarded the question at random and then looked up with as snug an expression as a cat that has just swallowed a bird. Patty might arrive home at any minute and spoil the whole thing. She must end it up as quickly as possible and send this brother on his way. He was a detective; she had scented that right at the start, and a rather common one at that. She hated the whole race of them, and resolved to protect her little alias Companion to the best of her very fine abilities. Besides, she did not believe he came from the family lawyer. He did not look cultured enough for the kind her little girl's family lawyer would likely employ. He was rude and familiar and altogether ill-bred. She did not trust him.
“Why-y-yes! It was. About property! Something that had to be settled up at once?”
“Um-m-m! Could I see the paper?”
“Well, not exactly, you know. It was for her privately.”
“I see. But she isn't here, and I really couldn't do anything about it without knowing which one it was.”
“I don't see how you could do anything if you don't know where she is.” he growled belligerently, suspicion bristling from his glance.
“Probably not,” said the old lady rocking indifferently; “but again, I might. I might succeed in getting Miss Fisher on the 'phone sometime and get the address from her if the matter was sufficiently important. We people are bothered a lot down here by very insignificant things and we came here to rest, you see.”
“I see,” said the young man uneasily, looking foiled. “Well, the fact is, the paper is sealed,” he lied glibly, “I was barely told what I have told you about it. I was sent here to enquire of Miss Fisher where Miss Merrill was to be found at once, and I was to proceed to her hotel and hand her the paper. I was on no account to give it into other hands.”
“Oh, very well!” said Miss Cole, rising calmly. “I guess your best way will be to run down to Hot Sulphur and see if she is there. Of course she might have gone to Washington this morning; she often does. Try The New Willard; that is where she stops, and if you fail there, there is no use trying this side of New York, I'm sure. I will wish you good morning. Sorry I couldn't help you, I'm sure.”
“But wait!” said the young man anxiously striding beside her. “You must let me write this down. Do I understand that this is accurate information?”
“I really couldn't answer for your understanding, young man. Your name is Sharp. That ought to help you some. Try Hot Sulphur -- all the hotels -- she is somewhat erratic, you know -- and then try Washington. If you don't find her at The New Willard, 'phone me. I'll be glad to give you any further information I have by that time, of course. You might leave your card also for Miss Fisher when she comes, and I’ll tell her about it. Then if you don't find Miss Merrill she can leave a message here for you when you telephone. I wish you good morning, young man!”
Miss Cole swept into the elevator and was carried up out of sight, but she got off at the first floor above and trotted hastily to the upper gallery, where behind a row of palms she could scan the office unobserved. The young man looked after her angrily, and stepped up to the desk.
“Don’t you know where Miss Edith Fisher is?” he demanded noisily.
The hotel clerk had not much use for a voice like that in the office. He looked the stranger over haughtily and replied:
“You been talking to Miss Cole, haven't you? Well, then, if she doesn't know, nobody else around here does. Miss Fisher's her niece or something. I can't tell you anything more.”
“When does your next train go?”
“Right now, the car's at the door. You better beat it quick, she's just starting,” advised the clerk jauntily, and slid himself into a little inner office out of sight.
The stranger turned and beat a hasty retreat. Miss Cole grimly smiling at the upper hall window watched him drive out of sight, and a moment later saw a trig little figure on horseback round the curve and flash past the car around to the stables. The day was saved, or Patty was saved, which was what the day had come to mean for Miss Cole.
While they were eating their lunch that noon at a little table that looked out into the plumy pines. Miss Cole made a casual statement:
“here was a man here to see you to-day.”
Patty looked up startled, a great fear growing in her eyes and contending with what looked like a great hope.
“At least he came to see Miss Edith Fisher,” went on Miss Cole, not seeming to notice the girl's agitation.
“Oh!” said Patty relaxing, and then her eyes growing dark with thought once more. “But I don't know how anyone would know I was here. I've never told anyone that name -- but you people!”
“Not anyone?”
“Well, I told the postmaster at home to forward mail to Edith Fisher here.”
“That's it! Have you had any?”
“Not a thing.”
“H'm!” said Miss Cole, dissecting her fish, while Patty grew white as she tried to realize what this must mean. “The postmaster has given you away.”
“What did he want?” faltered Patty.
“Nothing much. Just sent by some lawyers, he said, to get the present whereabouts of some friend of yours that had to sign a paper right away this minute. You needn't worry about him. I sent him packing. I advised him to look in on the hotels at White Sulphur and if he didn't find her there by all means to try The New Willard in Washington. He's to 'phone me from there and see if I have any further information. And now you needn't tell me anything about it unless you have to.”
Patty looked at her for a moment with the tears blurring her eyes, and then broke into a comprehending merry little laugh:
“Oh, you perfect DEAR!” she chirruped softly. “If we were only alone, I'd kiss you!”
“Oh, mercy!” exclaimed Miss Cole crossly, but she looked as if she liked it.
The very next afternoon a card was sent up to the room for Miss Fisher, bearing the name of Harold Barron, and Patty went white as death as she looked at it.
“What is it?” asked Miss Cole suddenly arising from a supposed nap. “Is that Sharp fool here again?”
Patty tremblingly handed her the card and put her hand flutteringly to her throat.
“No,” she said in a small dry voice. “No!” with a catch and a sob; “but --now --they have found out! And I don't know what I ought to do.”
“Do you want to see him?”
“Oh, no!” Patty shrank back as from a dreaded apparition.
“Well, then, yon shan't! Here! Where's my purse?”
She arose from her bed, snatched her purse, and all in her afternoon nap disarray, as she was, -- boudoir cap on one side, silver hair in curls about her face, sensible gray flannel wrapper trailing crookedly after her -- she marched magnificently from the room Patty was too shaken to stop her.
She had a moment's conversation with the bellboy outside the door, and sailed in again shuffling her gray felt bedroom slippers determinedly and snapping her purse shut.
“There!” she said with satisfaction as she turned the key in the lock with a click.” That's that! Now, let's pack! We're going home to-night! I'm not going to have you bothered like this, and there's no telling how many more will be on your trail by morning. If you want them to come you've only to say the word, but if you don't I'm going to take care of you. I've sent for the hotel clerk and I'm going to make it worth his while to say that we spoke of touring Florida for the winter, so I guess he'll know how to keep his mouth shut. No, you needn't say a word. I want to go home. I've wanted to all along, only I hadn't any reason to go, for of course Kate has a lot of goings on at Christmas and she would rather have my room than my company, but I've a perfect right to my room in that house, goodness knows, and as long as it isn't convenient for me to stay away any longer I'm going home. If you don't like it there well go somewhere else, but we’ll go there first anyhow. You're mine as long as you choose to stay - and – MERCY!' child!”
For the first time in her life Sylvia Cole knew what it was to have a grown-up girl fling her arms around her neck, cry on her shoulder, and then kiss her fervently again and again. It almost overwhelmed the poor lonely woman, but she bore it grimly and liked it. Presently Patty, with tear-stained face, and a smile twinkling out between the dimples, began to pack.
“You don't know how dear and delicious it is to have somebody care!” said Patty ecstatically, and then stopped suddenly as if she had said something she ought not to have said.
“Why, child! Haven't you any mother?”
The words were out before Miss Cole realized, but she hastened to atone:
“There! I'm an old fool! I ought to have known better. No, don't tell me a word. I know there's something troubling you and you ought not to tell it or you would have explained long ago. It’s all right and I respect you for your silence, so let it go at that. Now, where shall we put those fool evening rags? I might as well have left them in New York for all the good they've done me - still - once! Well, put them back in their box and send them by parcel post. We've no call to overwork packing. Let's take things easy and enjoy the trip.”
Patty silent and excited followed all directions perfectly, and now and then laughed half hysterically at the flow of original conversation with which Miss Cole enlivened the remainder of the afternoon.
But there was one call of farewell that Patty felt she must make before she left, and Miss Cole seemed to be as conscious of it as she was herself, and perhaps had been planning for it.
Several days before these happenings she had been walking back to the hotel from one of the trails where she had left Miss Cole to get the afternoon mail, and choosing a path she had not often gone before she came to a little nook among the pines where the trees were arranged almost like a tiny room, sheltered from the passersby, and quite sunny and pleasant. With a soft exclamation of delight she peered in and then perceived that the room was already occupied by a little shriveled old man done up in furs in a wheeled chair, who glared out at her and flung up a hand angrily, thereby displacing his rags and dropping a pair of shell-rimmed glasses which had been lying in his lap.
“Oh, I beg your pardon!” said Patty in a soft ripple of excuse.” I didn't know that anyone was here, and I was only looking in to see how lovely it was. Let me pick them up!” and she stooped and laid the glasses back in his lap.
“Who are you?” he demanded, glaring at her fiercely out of his little hard eyes.
“Oh, just a girl that is staying at the Inn with Miss Cole. I’m sorry I intruded. I hope you'll excuse me!”
“Miss Cole, eh? Well, you should have known better, but now you are here make yourself useful. Pull that collar up around my left ear. It’s nearly frozen off, and go tell that rascal of a man of mine that he's killing me with all this cold air. He went to get me my tonic and he's been gone about two hours. He ought to know better! I shall dismiss him when he gets back.”
Patty tucked the furs around him as if he had been a baby and gave a final pat to the laprobe.
“Now, are you all comfy? And shall I go hunt the man? What does he look like and what is his name? Or would you rather I should wheel you back to the house?”
“You couldn’t. You'd spill me down the mountain,” quavered the old man. “But if I let you go you’ll stay as long as he does, and I'm c-c-cold!”
“Of course I’ll wheel you back!” said Patty taking capable hold of the chair; “and of course I won't spill you. It's as easy to wheel as a baby carriage. See! I've turned it around nicely; now well be back before you know it. Which door do you prefer, back or front?”
“Oh, back, of course! There's always some old cat about, no matter how cold the day is.”
Old Hespur, blindly dashing down the path, almost ran over them a moment later in his excitement:
“Oh, sir,” he crooned breathlessly. “The chambermaid had been cleaning, sir, and dropped the bottle out of the window. Most careless, sir. I was obliged to go to the bottom of the hamper that came last night for another bottle, sir.”
“Get out of the way, you old rascal!” growled the master.
“We're doing well enough without you. You might as well get back to the hotel and pack up. You're leaving at once!”
Hespur quite used to such treatment said:
“Yessir!” quite meekly and fell behind, taking the weight of the push as the chair wheeled up the hill. Patty, gifted with wise understanding, kept her place as if she were pushing, and talked in a cheery tone to the old reprobate about the beautiful day and the sunshine and mountains and air, never heeding his growling dissent, and when they reached the door she stepped to his side, saying:
“Now, you'll be all right, I'm sure, and I’ll just run on and get Miss Cole's mail--!”
“Well, well, well!” blustered the old man, putting out a detaining hand, but before he could stop her Patty with a smile and a bow slipped away.