Part 63 (1/2)
That's a very bad thing. A woman should always have some money. She works as hard as any one, and usually she has more that worries her, so it's only fair for her to have part of what the work and worry bring.
Mother always has money. Why, she has so much, she can help father out when he is pushed with bills, as she did last fall, to start Sh.e.l.ley to music school. It's no way to be forced to live with a man, just to get a home, food, and clothing. I don't believe mother ever would do it in all this world. But then mother has worked all her life, and so if father doesn't do as she wants him to, she'd know exactly how to go about taking care of herself.
After all Mrs. Pryor didn't need to sit back on her dignity and look so abused. He couldn't knock her down, and drag her clear here. Why didn't she say right out, in the beginning, that her son COULDN'T be a thief, that she knew it, and she'd stay at home and wait for him to come back? She could have put a piece in the paper saying she knew her boy was all right, and for him to come back, so they could go to work and PROVE it. I bet if she'd had one tenth of the ginger mother has, she'd have stopped the whole fuss in the start. I looked at her almost steadily, trying to figure out just what mother would have done in her place. Maybe I'm mistaken about exactly how she would have set to work, but this I KNOW: she'd have stuck to the Lord; she'd have loved father, so dearly, he just COULDN'T have wanted her to do things that hurt her until it gave her heart trouble; and she never, never would have given up one of us, and sat holding her heart for months, refusing to see or to speak to any one, while she waited for some one else to do something. Mother never waits. She always thinks a minute, if she's in doubt she asks father; if he can't decide, both of them ask G.o.d; and then you ought to see things begin to fly.
The more I watched Mrs. Pryor, the more I began to think she was a lady; and just about when I was sure that was what ailed her, I heard father say: ”Perhaps the lady would like a cup of tea.” I had a big notion to tell her to come on, and I would show her where the cannister was, but I thought I better not. I wanted to, though. She'd have felt much better if she had got up and worked like the rest of us. With all the excitement, and everything happening at once, you'd have thought mother would be flat on her back, but flat nothing! Everything was picked up and slid back, fast as it was torn down; she found time to flannel her nose and brush her hair, her collar was straight, and the goldstone pin shone in the light, while her starched white ap.r.o.n fluttered as she went through the doors. She said a few words to Candace and Mrs. Freshett, May took out a linen cloth and began to set places for all the grown people, so I knew there'd be strawberry preserves and fried ham, but in all that, would you ever have thought that she'd find a second to make biscuit, and tea cakes herself? Plain as preaching I heard her say to Mrs. Freshett: ”I do hope and pray that Mr. Pryor will come out of it right, so we can take him home, and teach him to behave himself; but if he's gone this minute, I intend to have another decent meal for Sh.e.l.ley to offer her young man; and I don't care if I show Mrs. Pryor that we're not hungry over here, if we do lack servants to carry in food on silver platters.”
”That I jest would!” said Mrs. Freshett. ”Even if he turns up his toes, 'tain't YOUR funeral, thank the Lord! an' looky here, I'd jest as soon set things in a bake pan an' pa.s.s 'em for you, myself. I'll do it, if you say the word.”
Mother bit her lip, and fought her face to keep it straight, as she said confidential-like: ”No, I'm not going to toady to her. I only want her to see that a meal really consists of food after all; I don't mind putting my best foot foremost, but I won't ape her.”
”Huccome they to fuss like this, peaceable as Mr. Stanton be, an'
what's Sh.e.l.ley's beau to them?”
”I should think you could tell by looking at Pryors,” said mother.
”He's their mystery, and also their son. Sh.e.l.ley met him in Chicago, he came here to see her, and ran right into them. I'll tell you about it before you go. Now, I must keep these applications hot, for I've set my head on pulling Mr. Pryor out so that he can speak, and have a few decent years of life yet.”
”But why did the old devil--EX-cuse me, I mean the old GENTLEMAN, want to shoot your man?”
”He didn't! I'll tell you all about it after they're gone.”
”I bet you don't get shet of them the night,” said Mrs. Freshett.
”All right!” said mother. ”Whatever Dr. Fenner thinks. I won't have Mr. Pryor moved until it can't hurt him, if he stays a week. I blame her quite as much as I do him; from what I know. If a woman is going to live with a man, there are times when she's got to put her foot down--flat--most unmercifully flat!”
”Ain't she though!” said Mrs. Freshett; then she and mother just laughed.
There! What did I tell you? I feel as good as if father had patted me on the head and bragged on me a lot. I THOUGHT mother wouldn't think that Mr. Pryor was ALL to blame, and she didn't. I figured that out by myself, too.
Every minute Mr. Pryor grew better. He breathed easier, and mother tilted on her toes and waved her hands, when he moved his feet, threw back his head, lifted his hand to it, and acted like he was almost over it, and still in shape to manage himself. She hurried to tell Mrs.
Pryor, and I know mother didn't like it when she never even said she was glad, or went to see for herself.
Laddie and the Princess watched him, while every one else went to supper. Laddie picked up Mrs. Pryor's chair, carried her to the dining-room, and set her in my place beside father. He placed Dr.
Fenner next her, and left Robert to sit with Sh.e.l.ley. I don't think Mrs. Pryor quite liked that, but no one asked her.
I watched and listened until everything seemed to be going right there, and then I slipped into the parlour, where Laddie and the Princess were caring for Mr. Pryor. With one hand Laddie held hers, the other grasped Mr. Pryor's wrist. Laddie never took his eyes from that white, drawn face, except to smile at her, and squeeze her hand every little while. At last Mr. Pryor turned over and sighed, pretty soon he opened his eyes, and looked at Laddie, then at the Princess, and it was nothing new to see them, so he smiled and dozed again. After a while he opened them wider, then he saw the piano--that was an eye-opener for any one--and the strange room, so he asked, most as plain as he ever talked, why he was at our house again, and then he began to remember.
He struggled to sit up and the colour came into his face. So Laddie let go the Princess, and held him down while he said: ”Mr. Pryor, answer me this. Do you want to spend the remainder of your life in an invalid's chair, or would you like to walk abroad and sit a horse again?”
He glared at Laddie, but he heard how things were plainly enough.
Laddie held him, while he explained what a fight we had to unlock his muscles, and start him going again, and how, if we hadn't loved him, and wanted him so, and had left him untouched until the Doctor came, very likely he'd have been paralyzed all the rest of his life, if he hadn't died; and he said he wished he HAD, and he didn't THANK any one for saving him.
”Oh yes you do!” said Laddie, the same as he'd have talked to Leon.
”You can't stuff me on that, and you needn't try. Being dead is a cold, clammy proposition, that all of us put off as long as we can.
You know you want to see Pamela in her own home. You know you are interested in how I come out with those horses. You know you want the little people you spoke of, around you. You know the pain and suspense you have borne have almost driven you insane, and it was because you cared so deeply. Now lie still, and keep quiet! All of us are tired and there's no sense in making us go through this again, besides the risk of crippling yourself that you run. Right here in this house are the papers to prove that your nephew took your money, and hid it in your son's clothing, as he already had done a hundred lesser things, before, purposely to estrange you. Hold steady! You must hear this!
The sooner you know it, the better you'll feel. You remember, don't you, that before your nephew entered your home, you idolized your son.
You thought the things he did were amusing. A boy is a boy, and if he's alive, he's very apt to be lively. Mother could tell you a few pranks that Leon has put us through; but they're only a boy's foolishness, they are not unusual or unforgivable. I've gone over the evidence your son brings, with extreme care, so has father. Both of us are quite familiar with common law. He has every proof you can possibly desire. You can't get around it, even if your heart wasn't worn out with rebellion, and you were not crazy to have the loving sympathy of your family again.”