Rebecca's Promise Read online

  CHAPTER V

  "I can't blame any one but myself because I don't know all about Joan."Rebecca Mary was an honest little thing and she made no attempt to shiftthe blame to any one else. She packed it all on her own slim shoulders."If I had been a good teacher according to my principal I should havecalled at the house long ago and heard the whole story from Mrs.Muldoon. But I didn't. I kept putting it off, and so I don't know much."

  Granny had stopped at the Lincoln school at the close of the afternoonsession to inquire if Rebecca Mary had learned anything more aboutJoan's father. But Rebecca Mary hadn't learned a thing. Joan was an oddmixture of frankness and reserve. There were times when Rebecca Marythought that she must have been forbidden to speak of her old life inthe town with the German name. The whole situation was puzzling. RebeccaMary could not understand it at all.

  If you imagine that Joan's company was a constant joy to Rebecca Maryyou imagine all wrong. Rebecca Mary liked to have Joan with her wellenough at times, but there were other times when she was perfectlyindifferent to her guest and still other times when Joan was almost anirritation, and Rebecca Mary could not see why of all the teachers inthe Lincoln school she should be the one to have to borrow a childwhether she wanted one or not. She had not had a chance to say "Yes,thank you."

  "I've learned that Frederick Befort is on the factory pay-roll and asFrederick Befort," Granny said slowly. "There is no record of any CountErnach de Befort. Of course now that the war is over I don't suppose itmatters if he is a German. There wouldn't be any secrets for him tolearn. Germany wouldn't be interested now in what is being done at thefactory."

  "But de Befort sounds French," objected Rebecca Mary, who could not seethat Joan bore any resemblance to any German child she had ever taught."Joan was born in Yokohama but that doesn't tell us anything. Shecertainly isn't a Japanese. It's funny but she doesn't seem to want totell me what country she did come from. I was stupid enough to lose hernativity card, and when I made out another and asked her whatnationality her father was she said he was going to be an American. Itold her I wanted to know what he was now and she said he had told herthat they would forget what they were before they came to this country.That seemed rather queer. But Joan talks of Paris as much as she does ofBerlin. I wish I spoke French half as well as she does."

  "She speaks very good German, too. And as you say there is somethingsuspicious in the way she avoids any reference to her nationality. Itdoes seem as if she had been told not to speak of it. I suppose I am asilly prejudiced old woman, but I should rather have Joan and her fatheralmost anything but German. Are you through? Don't you want to take aspin down the River Road before you go home? It's perfect out, a realJune day. Do come with me."

  Rebecca Mary had no trouble at all to say "Yes, thank you" to thatinvitation. She called Joan, and they went with Granny to the limousinewhich was waiting at the curb.

  "I wonder if Cinderella's coach went as fast as this?" Joan said as theyflew toward the River Road. "We read about Cinderella this very day,"she explained to Granny. "It would be more interesting to have rats thanengines, wouldn't it? I'd like a pair of glass slippers, too, even ifthey would break so easy. Wooden ones would be the strongest. That'swhat they wear at home, you know, wooden ones."

  "In Germany, you mean?" asked Granny quickly.

  Joan wriggled. "Yes, in Germany they wear wooden ones," she said asquickly, "I've never seen glass slippers, not in London nor Paris norVienna nor anywhere. Aren't they any place but in fairy land?" shetwisted around to ask.

  "Nowhere. No matter how much money you have you can't buy Cinderella'sslippers anywhere but in fairy land," Rebecca Mary told her with a sighas if she, too, would like to find glass slippers somewhere else.

  For a while Joan was silent, meditating perhaps on the shoe shops infairy land with their glass slippers of every size and color.

  Granny and Rebecca Mary were silent, also, but they were not thinking ofglass slippers as the car swung into the River Road, which is quite theprettiest drive about Waloo. Never before had Rebecca Mary driven overit in a smart limousine with a liveried chauffeur at the wheel. She hadwalked there times without number, but walking is not like riding in apneumatic-tired machine, and Rebecca Mary did enjoy the change. She wasafraid that there was the making of a snob in her for she did like toride with Mrs. Peter Simmons better than she liked to walk with ateacher as shabby as she had been. Yes, she was a perfect snob. Shelaughed as if she found it funny to be a snob. Joan looked up andlaughed, too.

  "I like you best when you laugh." She squeezed Rebecca Mary's fingers."Of course I like you always, days and nights and every minute, but whenyou let your face break into little holes," she reached up and touchedRebecca Mary's one dimple, "why I just love you!"

  "So do I," said Granny. "And it makes my old face break into littleholes, too. Dear me, that makes it very serious, doesn't it? It is ourown fault when people frown at us. Don't ever forget that, Joan. If yousmile at people they will smile at you."

  "Will they? But I like to have people frown at me sometimes. It makes meshiver all down my back. Don't you like to have your back shiver?"

  "My back is too old to like to shiver. It's far too old and too stiff."

  Rebecca Mary caught the note of sadness in Granny's voice and venturedto touch her hand. "It's the heart not the back which should be young,"she said softly. "I read that somewhere so it must be true. And yourheart, dear Mrs. Simmons, will never in the world be old. Gracious, Ishould say it wouldn't!" she added emphatically as she remembered howfar from old Granny's enthusiasm was.

  "Don't call me Mrs. Simmons," begged Granny, and she took Rebecca Mary'shand in hers. "I'm Granny to all of my young friends. I'd like to beGranny to you."

  Rebecca Mary caught her breath. Just imagine calling Mrs. PeterSimmons,--Mrs. Peter Simmons of Waloo--, Granny!

  "I'm not going to let my heart grow old either," exclaimed Joan beforeRebecca Mary could tell Mrs. Simmons how glad she would be to call herGranny. "I want to keep it young for ever. But how can I when it getsolder every year? To-day my heart's eight and next May it will be nine!How can I keep it young for ever?" Joan's voice was a wail.

  "Yes, Miss Wyman, how can we keep our hearts young when there is alwaysa birthday before us?"

  "You know. No one can give a better rule than you can."

  But Granny shook her head. She declared that there wasn't any rule, thatwas why there were so many old hearts. People didn't know how to keeptheir hearts young. They weren't taught in any school she knew of.

  "I'll ask daddy," promised Joan. "I expect he'll know. I'll ask him justas soon as I see him. But I hope he won't come for me before the goldenwedding." She turned pale at the mere thought of missing a goldenwedding.

  "The golden wedding won't be until July," Granny told her. "Imagine anyone being married in July. It was the most scorching day. I thought Ishould melt and that old Peter Simmons would melt and there wouldn't beany one left to be married. We went to New York and the sea shore on ourwedding trip, and Peter ate too many lobsters and was ill. Such times aswe had!" She smiled at their memory. "The twenty-second of July," shesaid dreamily. "Will you keep Joan until then, Miss Wyman? Oh, I have aplan! This is the last week of school, isn't it?"

  Rebecca Mary nodded to the last question before she answered the first."I'll take Joan down home with me, to Mifflin, if Mrs. Muldoon doesn'tcome back."

  "No, I want you both to come to me. Please," as Rebecca Mary looked ather in surprise. "I'm so lonely in that big house by myself. Mr.Simmons is away so much, I never know when he will be home. It wouldkeep my old heart young," she hinted, "to have two young things in thehouse again. Do, please take pity on a crabbed old woman."

  "You're not a crabbed old woman!" Rebecca Mary said fiercely.

  "I shall be if you don't come and stay with me. We might motor up toSeven Pines, that's our country place, for a few days. Most people thinkit's very pretty there. You want to come, don't you, Joan?"

  "Yes, I d
o." Joan did not hesitate a breath. "I want to help you keepyour heart young. Don't you want to help too, Miss Wyman?" She didn'tsee how Miss Wyman could refuse to help.

  "But my mother and sister will expect us in Mifflin."

  "We can run down Saturday and tell them," suggested Granny. "We canmotor down and back in a day. I know your mother will be willing."

  But still Rebecca Mary hesitated although it would be fun to go rollinginto Mifflin in the big limousine, and it would be fun, too, to staywith Mrs. Simmons in her big house, but---- Her fingers touched herpocket and felt a hard round object, the locket which held the four-leafclover. The locket reminded Rebecca Mary that she couldn't refuseGranny Simmons' kind invitation if she kept her promise to Cousin Susan.She blushed and stammered a bit as she said "Yes, thank you." And thenimpulsively she showed Granny the locket and told her what a mystery itcontained.

  "Well, upon my word!" Granny seemed as surprised and interested asRebecca Mary could wish. "How romantic! We must find who gave it to you.I do hope it wasn't that fat old waiter who sniffs. Haven't you anyclue? Who was in the tea room that afternoon?"

  "I was there with daddy, wasn't I, Miss Wyman?" Joan pulled her sleeve."But I gave you violets. I didn't give you any lucky clover."

  "Did you see her father?" Granny asked immediately. She was surprisedthat Rebecca Mary hadn't told her she had seen Frederick Befort.

  Rebecca Mary shook her head. "You can't really say you have seen a manwhen you have had only a fleeting glimpse of a back. You were there,Mrs. Simmons. And your grandson!" To save her soul Rebecca Mary couldnot keep the crimson wave from her cheeks when she just the same as puta wish in words.

  But Granny shrieked with delight. "If it was Peter!" she chuckled. "Ifit only was Peter! He is such a matter of fact old boy. I'd love tothink he went around giving girls four-leaf clovers."

  "Matter of fact!" Rebecca Mary stared at Granny. Peter was anything butmatter of fact to her. Her voice told Granny so.

  Granny stopped in the very middle of another chuckle. "Perhaps my eyesare as old as my heart," she admitted. "You'll have to come and help mesee Peter as you do, help me change my old eyes."

  "Can you do that?" Joan wanted to know at once. "Can you change youreyes and your heart if you don't like the ones you have, like Mrs.Muldoon changed the bread one day? She said it was stale."

  "Indeed you can change a stale heart, Joan. It is wrong and foolish tokeep such a useless thing as a stale heart. You should change it atonce."

  "Where?"

  Granny looked helplessly at Rebecca Mary. Joan's endless questions weresometimes hard to answer. Rebecca Mary laughed and answered for her.

  "Wherever there is anything to love," she suggested.