Part 41 (2/2)
”Delighted,” said Magee. ”I'll find you a cab.” He led the way to a row of such vehicles, Mrs. Norton and the girl following.
”Seems like you're always putting me in a cab,” remarked the older woman as she climbed inside. ”I don't know what Mary and me would have done if it hadn't been for you. You're a mighty handy person to have around, Mr.
Magee. Ain't he, dearie?” She winked openly at Magee.
”And a delightful one,” agreed the girl, in a matter-of-fact tone.
Mrs. Norton was driven away up the snowy street. As Mr. Magee and the girl turned, they beheld the Hermit of Baldpate staring with undisguised exultation at the tall buildings of Reuton.
”Why, it's Mr. Peters!” the girl cried.
”Yes,” replied Magee. ”His prediction has come true. We and our excitement proved too much for him. He's going back to Brooklyn and to her.”
”I'm so glad,” she cried. She stretched out her hand to the hermit. He took it, somewhat embarra.s.sed.
”Glad to see you,” he said. ”You certainly appear to have stirred things up, miss. But women are good at that. I've always said--”
”Mr. Magee tells me you're going back, after all?” she broke in.
”Yes,” returned Peters. ”I knew it. I told you so. It was all right in the summer, when the bands played, and the warm wind was hermiting on the mountain, too. But in the fall, it's always been hard, and I've heard the white lights calling, calling--why, I've even heard her--heard Ellen. This fall you came, and there was something doing on Baldpate--and I knew that when you went, I'd just naturally have to go, too. So--I'm going.”
”Splendid,” commented the girl.
”It'll be somewhat delicate,” continued the hermit, ”bursting in on Ellen after all these years. As I told Mr. Magee, I wish I had an inaugural address, or something like that.”
”I have it,” responded Evelyn Rhodes. ”I'll write a story about you for to-morrow morning's paper. All about how the Christmas spirit has overcome the Hermit of Baldpate, and how he's going back to his wife, with his heart filled with love for her--it is filled, isn't it?”
”Well, yes,” agreed Mr. Peters. ”I reckon you might call it that.”
”And then you can send her a copy of the paper, and follow it up in person.”
”A good idea,” commented Billy Magee.
”At first glance, yes,” studied Peters. ”But, on the other hand, it would be the death knell of my post-card business, and I'm calculating to go back to Baldpate next summer and take it up again. No, I'm afraid I can't let it be generally known that I've quit living in a shack on the mountain for love of somebody or other.”
”Once more,” smiled Magee, ”big business muzzles the press.”
”Not that I ain't obliged to you for the offer,” added the hermit.
”Of course,” said the girl, ”I understand. And I wish you the best of luck--along with a merry Christmas.”
”The same to you,” replied the hermit heartily.
”Miss--er--Miss Rhodes and I will see you again,” predicted Mr. Magee, ”next summer at Baldpate Inn.”
The hermit looked at the girl, who turned her face away.
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