Part 51 (1/2)
”Steve.”
”h.e.l.lo?”
”Won't it be a surprise for Mamie?”
”You bet it will. And she won't be the only one, at that.”
”Will mother be surprised?”
”She sure will.”
”And pop?”
”You bet!”
William Bannister chuckled delightedly.
”Ready?” said Steve.
”Yes.”
”Now listen. We've got to get out of this joint as quiet as mice. It would spoil the surprise if they was to hear us and come out and ask what we were doing. Get that?”
”Yes.”
”Well, see how quiet you can make it. You don't want even to breathe more than you can help.”
They left the room and crept down the dark stairs. In the hall Steve lit a match and switched on the electric light. He unbolted the door and peered out into the avenue. Close by, under the trees, stood an automobile, its headlights staring into the night.
”Quick!” cried Steve.
He picked up the White Hope, closed the door, and ran.
Chapter X
Accepting the Gifts of the G.o.ds
It was fortunate, considering the magnitude of the shock which she was to receive, that circ.u.mstances had given Steve's Mamie unusual powers of resistance in the matter of shocks. For years before her introduction into the home of the Winfield family her life had been one long series of crises. She had never known what the morrow might bring forth, though experience had convinced her that it was pretty certain to bring forth something agitating which would call for all her well-known ability to handle disaster.
The sole care of three small brothers and a weak-minded father gives a girl exceptional opportunities of cultivating poise under difficult conditions. It had become second nature with Mamie to keep her head though the heavens fell.
Consequently, when she entered the nursery next morning and found it empty, she did not go into hysterics. She did not even scream. She read Steve's note twice very carefully, then sat down to think what was her best plan of action.
Her ingrained habit of looking on the bright side of things, the result of a life which, had pessimism been allowed to rule it, might have ended prematurely with what the papers are fond of calling a ”rash act,” led her to consider first those points in the situation which she labelled in her meditations as ”bits of luck.”
It was a bit of luck that Mrs. Porter happened to be away for the moment. It gave her time for reflection. It was another bit of luck that, as she had learned from Keggs, whom she met on the stairs on her way to the nursery, a mysterious telephone-call had caused Ruth to rise from her bed some three hours before her usual time and depart hurriedly in a cab. This also helped.
Keggs had no information to give as to Ruth's destination or the probable hour of her return. She had vanished without a word, except a request to Keggs to tell the driver of her taxi to go to the Thirty-Third Street subway.