Rising Water
If only my poor child had a sensible mother," said Mrs. Tressady,calmly, "I suppose we would get Big Hong's 'carshen' for him, andthat would do perfectly! But I will not have a Chinese man forTimothy's nurse! It seems all wrong, somehow.""Big Hong hasn't got a female cousin, I suppose?" said Timothy'sfather; "a Chinese woman wouldn't be so bad." "Oh, I think it wouldbe as bad--nearly," Mrs. Tressady returned with vivacity. "Anyway,this particular carshen is a man--'My carshen lun floot store'--that's who it is!""Will you kindly explain what 'My carshen lun floot store' means?"asked a young man who was lying in a hammock that he lazily movednow and then by means of a white-shod foot. This was Peter Porter,who, with his wife, completed the little group on the Tressadys'roomy, shady side porch."It means my cousin who runs a fruit store," supplied Mrs. Porter--abig-boned, superb blonde who was in a deep chair sewing buttons onTimothy Tressady's new rompers. "Even I can see that--if I'm not anative of California.""Yes, that's it," Mrs. Tressady said absently. "Go back and readthose Situations Wanted over again, Jerry," she commanded with adecisive snip of the elastic she was cunningly inserting into morenew rompers for Timothy.Jerry Tressady obediently sat up in his steamer chair and flatteneda copy of the Emville Mail upon his knee.The problem under discussion this morning was that of getting anurse for Timothy Tressady, aged two years. Elma, the silent,undemonstrative Swedish woman who had been with the family sinceTimothy's birth, had started back to Stockholm two months ago, andsince then at least a dozen unsatisfactory applicants for herposition had taken their turn at the Rising Water Ranch.Mrs. Tressady, born and brought up in New York, sometimes sighed asshe thought of her mother's capped and aproned maids; of Aunt Anna'smaids; of her sister Lydia's maids. Sometimes in the hot summer,when the sun hung directly over the California bungalow for sevenhours every day, and the grass on the low, rolling hills all aboutwas dry and slippery, when Joe Parlona forgot to drive out fromEmville with ice and mail, and Elma complained that Timmy could noteat his luncheon on the porch because of buzzing "jellow yackets,"Molly Tressady found herself thinking other treasonable thoughts--thoughts of packing, of final telegrams, of the Pullman sleeper, ofChicago in a blowing mist of rain, of the Grand Central at twilight,with the lights of taxicabs beginning to move one by one into thecurrent of Forty-second Street--and her heart grew sick withlongings. And sometimes in winter, when rain splashed all day fromthe bungalow eaves, and Beaver Creek rose and flooded its banks andcrept inch by inch toward the garden gate, and when from the latedawn to the early darkness not a soul came near the ranch--she wouldhave sudden homesick memories of Fifth Avenue, three thousand milesaway, with its motor-cars and its furred women and its brillianttea-rooms. She would suddenly remember the opera-house and the longline of carriages in the snow, and the boys calling the operascores.However, for such moods the quickest cure was a look at Jerry--strong, brown, vigorous Jerry--tramping the hills, writing hisstories, dreaming over his piano, and sleeping deep and restfullyunder the great arch of the stars. Jerry had had a cold four yearsago--"just a mean cold," had been the doctor's cheerful phrase; butwhat terror it struck to the hearts that loved Jerry! Molly's eyes,flashing to his mother's eyes, had said: "Like his father--like hisaunt--like the little sister who died!" And for the first timeJerry's wife had found herself glad that little Jerry Junior--he whocould barely walk, who had as yet no words--had gone away from themfearlessly into the great darkness a year before. He might havegrown up to this, too.So they came to California, and big Jerry's cold did not last verylong in the dry heat of Beaver Creek Valley. He and Molly grew sostrong and brown and happy that they never minded restrictions andinconveniences, loneliness and strangeness--and when a strong andbrown and happy little Timothy joined the group, Molly renouncedforever all serious thoughts of going home. California became home.Such friends as chance brought their way must be their only friends;such comfort as the dry little valley and the brown hills could holdmust suffice them now. Molly exulted in sending her mother snapshotsof Timmy picking roses in December, and in heading July letters: "Byour open fire--for it's really cool to-day."Indeed it was not all uncomfortable and unlovely. All the summernights were fresh and cool and fragrant; there were spring days whenall the valley seemed a ravishing compound of rain-cooled air androses, of buttercups in the high, sunflecked grass under the apple-trees, crossed and recrossed by the flashing blue and brown ofmating jays and larks. It was not a long drive to the deep woods;and it was but six miles to Emville, where there was always thepleasant stir and bustle of a small country town; trains puffing into disgorge a dozen travelling agents and their bags; the wire doorat the post-office banging and banging; the maid at the Old OriginalImperial Commercial Hotel coming out on the long porch to ring awildly clamorous dinner-bell. Molly grew to love Emville.Then, two or three times a year, such old friends as the Porters,homeward bound after the Oriental trip, came their way, and therewas delicious talk at the ranch of old days, of the new theatres,and the new hotels, and the new fashions. The Tressadys stoppedplaying double Canfield and polished up their bridge game; and BigHong, beaming in his snowy white, served meals that were a joy tohis heart. Hong was a marvellous cook; Hong cared beautifully forall his domain; and Little Hong took care of the horses, puttered inthe garden, swept, and washed windows. But they needed more help,for there were times when Molly was busy or headachy or proof-reading for Jerry or riding with him. Some one must be responsibleevery second of the day and night for Timmy. And where to get thatsome one?"Aren't they terrors!" said Mrs. Porter in reference to the nurse-maids that would not come to the ranch on any terms. "What do theyexpect anyway?""Oh, they get lonesome," Molly said in discouragement, "and ofcourse it is lonely! But I should think some middle-aged woman orsome widow with a child even--""Molly always returns to that possible widow!" said her husband. "Ithink we might try two!""I would never think of that!" said the mistress of the ranchfirmly. "Four servants always underfoot!""Did you ever think of trying a regular trained nurse, Molly?" PeterPorter asked."But then you have them at the table, Peter--and always in thedrawing-room evenings. And no matter how nice they are--""That's the worst of that!" agreed Peter.Jerry Tressady threw the Mail on the floor and sat up."Who's this coming up now, Molly?" he asked.He had lowered his voice, because the white-clad young woman who wascoming composedly up the path between the sunflowers and theoverloaded rose-bushes was already within hearing distance. She wasa heavy, well-developed young person upon closer view, with light-lashed eyes of a guileless, childlike blue, rosy cheeks, and a massof bright, shining hair, protected now only by a parasol. Throughthe embroidery insertion of her fresh, stiff dress she showedglimpses of a snowy bosom, and under her crisp skirt a ruffle ofwhite petticoat and white-shod feet were visible. She was pantingfrom her walk and wiped her glowing face with her handkerchiefbefore she spoke."Howdy-do, folks?" said the new-comer, easily, dropping upon thesteps and fanning herself with the limp handkerchief. "I don'twonder you keep a motor-car; it's something fierce walking downhere! I could of waited," she went on thoughtfully, "and had mybrother brought me down in the machine, but I hadn't no idea it wasso far. I saw your ad in the paper," she went on, addressing Mrs.Tressady directly, with a sort of trusting simplicity that wasrather pretty, "and I thought you might like me for your girl.""Well,--" began Molly, entirely at a loss, for until this second nosuspicion of the young woman's errand had occurred to her. She darednot look at husband or guests; she fixed her eyes seriously upon thewould-be nurse."Of course I wouldn't work for everybody," said the new-comerhastily and proudly. "I never worked before and mamma thinks I'mcrazy to work now, but I don't think that taking care of a child isanything to be ashamed of!" The blue eyes flashed dramatically--sheevidently enjoyed this speech. "And what's more, I don't expect anyone of my friends to shun me or treat me any different because I'm aservant--that is, so long as I act like a lady," she finished in alower tone. A sound from the hammock warned Mrs. Tressady; andsuggesting in a somewhat unsteady voice that they talk the matterover indoors, she led the new maid out of sight.For some twenty minutes the trio on the porch heard the steady riseand fall of voices indoors; then Molly appeared and asked herhusband in a rather dissatisfied voice what he thought."Why, it's what you think, dear. How's she seem?""She's competent enough--seems to know all about children, and Ithink she'd be strong and willing. She's clean as a pink, too. Andshe'd come for thirty and would be perfectly contented, because shelives right near here--that house just before you come to Emvillewhich says Chickens and Carpentering Done Here--don't you know? Shehas a widowed sister who would come and stay with her at night whenwe're away." Mrs. Tressady summed it up slowly."Why not try her then, dear? By the way, what's her name?""Darling--Belle Darling.""Tell her I'm English," said Mr. Porter, rapturously, "and that overthere we call servants--""No, but Jerry,"--Mrs. Tressady was serious,--"would you? She's soutterly untrained. That's the one thing against her. She hasn't thefaintest idea of the way a servant should act. She told me she justloved the way I wore my hair, and she said she wanted me to meet herfriend. Then she asked me, 'Who'd you name him Timothy for?'""Oh, you'd tame her fast enough. Just begin by snubbing her everychance you get--""I see it!" laughed Mrs. Porter, for Mrs. Tressady was a woman fullof theories about the sisterhood of woman, about equality, about afair chance for every one--and had never been known to hurt anyone's feelings in the entire course of her life.Just here Belle stepped through one of the drawing-room Frenchwindows, with dewy, delicious Timothy, in faded pale-blue sleeping-wear, in her arms."This darling little feller was crying," said Belle, "and I guess hewants some din-din--don't you, lover? Shall I step out and tell oneof those Chinese boys to get it? Listen! From now on I'll have mammasave all the banty eggs for you, Timmy, and some day I'll take youdown there and show you the rabbits, darling. Would you like that?"Molly glanced helplessly at her husband."How soon could you come, Belle?" asked Jerry, and that settled it.He had interpreted his wife's look and assumed the responsibility.Molly found herself glad.Belle came two days later, with every evidence of content. It soonbecame evident that she had adopted the family and consideredherself adopted in turn. Her buoyant voice seemed to leap out ofevery opened door. She rose above her duties and floated along on aconstant stream of joyous talk."We're going to have fried chicken and strawberries--my favoritedinner!" said Belle when Molly was showing her just how she likedthe table set. After dinner, cheerfully polishing glasses, shesuddenly burst into song as she stood at the open pantry window,some ten feet from the side porch. The words floated out:"And the band was bravely playingThe song of the cross and crown--Nearer, my god, to thee--As the ship--"Mrs. Tressady sat up, a stirring shadow among the shadows of theporch."I must ask her not to do that," she announced quietly, anddisappeared."And I spoke to her about joining in the conversation at dinner,"she said, returning. "She took it very nicely."Belle's youthful spirits were too high to succumb to one check,however. Five minutes later she burst forth again:"Ring, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, on your telephone--And ring me up tonight--""Soft pedal, Belle!" Jerry called.Belle laughed."Sure!" she called back. "I forgot."Presently the bright blot of light that fell from the pantry windowon the little willow trees vanished silently, and they could hearBelle's voice in the kitchen."Good-natured," said Molly."Strong," Mrs. Porter said."And pretty as a peach!" said Peter Porter."Oh, she'll do!" Jerry Tressady said contentedly.She was good-natured, strong, and pretty indeed, and she did a greatdeal. Timmy's little garments fluttered on the clothes-line beforebreakfast; Timmy's room was always in order: Timmy was always daintyand clean. Belle adored him and the baby returned her affection.They murmured together for hours down on the river bank or on theshady porch. Belle always seemed cheerful.Nor could it be said that Belle did not know her place. She revelledin her title. "This is Mrs. Tressady's maid," Belle would saymincingly at the telephone, "and she does not allow her servants tomake engagements for her." "My friends want me to enter my name fora prize for the most popular girl in the Emville bazaar, Mrs.Tressady; but I thought I would ask your permission first."But there was a sort of breezy familiarity about her very difficultto check. On her second day at the ranch she suddenly came behindJerry Tressady seated on the piano bench and slipped a sheet ofmusic before him."Won't you just run over that last chorus for me, Mr. Tress'dy?"asked Belle. "I have to sing that at a party Thursday night and Ican't seem to get it."No maid between Washington Square and the Bronx Zoo would have askedthis favor. Yes, but Rising Water Ranch was not within those limits,nor within several thousand miles of them; so Jerry played the lastchorus firmly, swiftly, without comment, and Belle gratefullywithdrew. The Porters, unseen witnesses of this scene, on the porch,thought this very amusing; but only a day later Mrs. Porter herselfwas discovered in the act of buttoning the long line of buttons thatwent down the back of one of Belle's immaculate white gowns."Well, what could I do? She suddenly backed up before me," Mrs.Porter said in self-defence. "Could I tell her to let Hong buttonher?"After dinner on the same day Peter Porter cleared a space before himon the table and proceeded to a demonstration involving a fork, awedding ring, and a piece of string. While the quartet, laughing,were absorbed in the mysterious swinging of the suspended ring,Belle, putting away her clean silver, suddenly joined the group."I know a better one than that," said she, putting a glass of waterbefore Mrs. Tressady. "Here--take your ring again. Now wait--I'llpull out one of your hairs for you. Now swing it over the waterinside the glass. It'll tell your age."Entirely absorbed in the experiment, her fresh young face close totheirs, her arms crossed as she knelt by the table, she had eyesonly for the ring."We won't keep you from your dishes, Belle," said Molly."Oh, I'm all through," said Belle, cheerfully. "There!" For the ringwas beginning to strike the glass with delicate, even strokes--thirty."Now do it again," cried Belle, delightedly, "and it'll tell yourmarried life!"Again the ring struck the glass--eight."Well, that's very marvellous," said Molly, in genuine surprise; butwhen Belle had gone back to her pantry, Mrs. Tressady rose, with alittle sigh, and followed her."Call her down?" asked Jerry, an hour later."Well, no," the lady admitted, smiling. "No! She was putting awayTimmy's bibs, and she told me that he had seemed a little upset to-night, she thought; so she gave him just barley gruel and the whiteof an egg for supper, and some rhubarb water before he went to bed.And what could I say? But I will, though!"During the following week Mrs. Tressady told Belle she must not rushinto a room shouting news--she must enter quietly and wait for anopportunity to speak; Mrs. Tressady asked her to leave the house bythe side porch and quietly when going out in the evening to drivewith her young man; Mrs. Tressady asked her not to deliver the mailwith the announcement: "Three from New York, an ad from Emville, andone with a five-cent stamp on it;" she asked her not to shout outfrom the drive, "White skirt show?" She said Belle must not ask,"What's he doing?" when discovering Mr. Tressady deep in a chessproblem; Belle must not drop into a chair when bringing Timmy out tothe porch after his afternoon outing; she must not be heardexclaiming, "Yankee Doodle!" and "What do you know about that!" whenher broom dislodged a spider or her hair caught on the rose-bushes.To all of these requests Belle answered, "Sure!" with greatpenitence and amiability."Sure, Mis' Tress'dy--Say, listen! I can match that insertion Ispilled ink on--in Emville. Isn't that the limit? I can fix it soit'll never show in the world!""I wouldn't stand that girl for--one--minute," said Mrs. Porter toher husband; but this was some weeks later when the Porters were ina comfortable Pullman, rushing toward New York."I think Molly's afraid of flying in the face of Providence anddischarging her," said Peter Porter--"but praying every day thatshe'll go."This was almost the truth. Belle's loyalty, affection, good nature,and willingness were beyond price, but Belle's noisiness, her slang,and her utter lack of training were a sore trial. When Novembercame, with rains that kept the little household at Rising Waterprisoners indoors, Mrs. Tressady began to think she could not standBelle much longer."My goodness!" Belle would say loudly when sent for to bring afilled lamp. "Is that other lamp burned out already? Say, listen!I'll give you the hall lamp while I fill it." "You oughtn't to touchpie just after one of your headaches!" she would remind her employerin a respectful aside at dinner. And sometimes when Molly and herhusband were busy in the study a constant stream of conversationwould reach them from the nursery where Belle was dressing Timothy:"Now where's the boy that's going to let Belle wash his face? Oh,my, what a good boy! Now, just a minny--minny--minny--that's all.Now give Belle a sweet, clean kiss--yes, but give Belle a sweet,clean kiss--give Belle a kiss--oh, Timmy, do you want Belle to cry?Well, then, give her a kiss--give Belle a sweet kiss--"When Molly was bathing the boy Belle would come and take acomfortable chair near by, ready to spring for powder or pins, butotherwise studying her fingernails or watching the bath with genialinterest. Molly found herself actually lacking in the strength ofmind to exact that Belle stand silently near on these occasions, andso listened to a great many of Belle's confidences. Belle at home;Belle in the high school; Belle trying a position in Robbins's candystore and not liking it because she was not used to freshness--allthese Belles became familiar to Molly. Grewsome sicknesses, famouslocal crimes, gossip, weddings--Belle touched upon them all; andMolly was ashamed to find it all interesting, it spite of herself.One day Belle told Molly of Joe Rogers, and Joe figured daily in thenarratives thereafter--Joe, who drove a carriage, a motor, or a haywagon, as the occasion required, for his uncle who owned a liverystable, but whose ambition was to buy out old Scanlon, the localundertaker, and to marry Belle."Joe knows more about embalming than even Owens of Napa does,"confided Belle. "He's got every plat in the cemetery memorized--and,his uncle having carriages and horses, it would work real well; butScanlon wants three thousand for the business and goodwill.""I wish he had it and you this minute!" Molly would think. But whenshe opened Timmy's bureau drawers, to find little suits and coatsand socks in snowy, exquisite order; when Timmy, trim, sweet, andfreshly clad, appeared for breakfast every morning, his fat hand inBelle's, and "Dea' Booey"--as he called her--figuring prominently inhis limited vocabulary, Molly weakened again."Is he mad this morning?" Belle would ask in a whisper before Jerryappeared. "Say, listen! You just let him think I broke thedecanter!" she suggested one day in loyal protection of Molly. "Why,I think the world and all of Mr. Tressady!" she assured Molly, whenreproved for speaking of him in this way. "Wasn't it the luckiestthing in the world--my coming up that day?" she would demandjoyously over and over. Her adoption of and by the family ofTressady was--to her, at least--complete.In January Uncle George Tressady's estate was finally distributed,and this meant great financial ease at Rising Water. Belle, Mollysaid, was really getting worse and worse as she became more and moreat home; and the time had come to get a nice trained nurse--some onewho could keep a professional eye on Timmy, be a companion to Molly,and who would be quiet and refined, and gentle in her speech."And not a hint to Belle, Jerry," Molly warned him, "until we seehow it is going to work. She'll see presently that we don't needboth."When Miss Marshall, cool, silent, drab of hair and eye, arrived atthe ranch, Belle was instantly suspicious."What's she here for? Who's sick?" demanded Belle, coming into Mrs.Tressady's room and closing the door behind her, her eyes bright andhard.Molly explained diplomatically. Belle must be very polite to thenew-comer; it was just an experiment--"This would be a good chanceto hint that I'm not going to keep both," thought Molly, as Bellelistened.Belle disarmed her completely, however, by coming over to her with asuddenly bright face and asking in an awed voice:"Is it another baby? Oh, you don't know how glad I'd be! Thedarling, darling little thing!"Molly felt the tears come into her eyes--a certain warmth creepabout her heart."No," she said smiling; "but I'm glad you will love it if it evercomes!" This was, of course, exactly what she did not mean to say."If we got Miss Marshall because of Uncle George's money," saidBelle, huffily, departing, "I wish he hadn't died! There isn't athing in this world for her to do."Miss Marshall took kindly to idleness--talking a good deal ofprevious cases, playing solitaire, and talking freely to Molly ofvarious internes and patients who admired her. She marked herself atonce as unused to children by calling Timothy "little man," and,except for a vague, friendly scrutiny of his tray three times a day,did nothing at all--even leaving the care of her room to Belle.After a week or two, Miss Marshall went away, to Belle's greatsatisfaction, and Miss Clapp came. Miss Clapp was forty, and strongand serious; she did not embroider or confide in Molly; she satsilent at meals, chewing firmly, her eyes on her plate. "What wouldyou like me to do now?" she would ask Molly, gravely, at intervals.Molly, with Timothy asleep and Belle sweeping, could only murmur:"Why, just now,--let me see,--perhaps you'd like to write letters--or just read--""And are you going to take little Timothy with you when he wakesup?"Molly would evade the uncompromising eyes."Why, I think so. The sun's out now. You must come, too."Miss Clapp, coming, too, cast a damper on the drive; and shepersisted in talking about the places where she was really needed."Imagine a ward with forty little suffering children in it, Mrs.Tressady! That's real work--that's a real privilege!"And after a week or two Miss Clapp went joyously back to her realwork with a generous check for her children's ward in her pocket.She kissed Timothy good-by with the first tenderness she had shown."Didn't she make you feel like an ant in an anthill?" asked Belle,cheerfully watching the departing carriage. "She really didn't takeno interest in Timothy because there wasn't a hundred of him!"There was a peaceful interval after this, while Molly diligentlyadvertised for "A competent nurse. One child only. Good salary.Small family in country."No nurse, competent or incompetent, replied. Then came the Januarymorning when Belle casually remarked: "Stupid! You never wound it!"to the master of the house, who was attempting to start a stoppedclock. This was too much! Mrs. Tressady immediately wrote the letterthat engaged Miss Carter, a highly qualified and high-priced nurserygoverness who had been recommended by a friend.Miss Carter, a rosy, strong, pleasant girl, appeared two days laterin a driving rain and immediately "took hold." She was talkative,assured in manner, neat in appearance, entirely competent. She drovepoor Belle to frenzy with her supervision of Timothy's trays, bathsand clothes, amusements and sleeping arrangements. Timmy liked her,which was point one in her favor. Point two was that she liked tohave her meals alone, liked to disappear with a book, could amuseherself for hours in her own room.The Tressadys, in the privacy of their own room, began to say toeach other: "I like her--she'll do!""She's very complacent," Molly would say with a sigh."But it's nothing to the way Belle effervesces all over the place!""Oh, I suppose she is simply trying to make a good impression--that's all." And Mrs. Tressady began to cast about in her mind forjust the words in which to tell Belle that--really--four servantswere not needed at the ranch. Belle was so sulky in these days andso rude to the new-comer that Molly knew she would have no troublein finding good reason for the dismissal."Are we going to keep her?" Belle asked scornfully one morning--towhich her mistress answered sharply:"Belle, kindly do not shout so when you come into my room. Do yousee that I am writing?""Gee whiz!" said Belle, sorrowfully, as she went out, and shevisibly drooped all day.It was decided that as soon as the Tressadys' San Francisco visitwas over, Belle should go. They were going down to the city for aweek in early March--for some gowns for Molly, some dinners, someopera, and one of the talks with Jerry's doctor that were becomingso delightfully unnecessary.They left the ranch in a steady, gloomy downpour. Molly did herpacking between discouraged trips to the window, and deluged Belleand Miss Carter with apprehensive advice that was not at all likeher usual trusting outlook."Don't fail to telephone me instantly at the hotel if anything--but,of course, nothing will," said Molly. "Anyway you know the doctor'snumber, Belle, and about a hot-water bag for him if his feet arecold, and oil the instant he shows the least sign of fever--""Cert'n'y!" said Belle, reassuringly."This is Monday," said Molly. "We'll be back Sunday night. HaveLittle Hong meet us at the Junction. And if it's clear, bringTimmy.""Cert'n'y!" said Belle."I hate to go in all this rain!" Molly said an hour or two laterfrom the depths of the motor-car.Miss Carter was holding Timmy firmly on the sheltered porch railing.Belle stood on an upper step in the rain. Big Hong beamed from theshadowy doorway. At the last instant Belle suddenly caught Timmy inher arms and ran down the wet path."Give muddy a reel good kiss for good-by!" commanded Belle, andMolly hungrily claimed not one, but a score."Good-by, my heart's heart!" she said. "Thank you, Belle." As thecarriage whirled away she sighed. "Was there ever such a good-hearted, impossible creature!"Back into the house went Belle and Timmy, Miss Carter and Big Hong.Back came Little Hong with the car. Silence held the ranch; thewaning winter light fell on Timmy, busy with blocks; on Belledarning; on Miss Carter reading a light novel. The fire blazed, sankto quivering blue, leaped with a sucking noise about a fresh log,and sank again. At four the lamps were lighted, the two women fussedamicably together over Timothy's supper. Later, when he was asleep,Miss Carter, who had no particular fancy for the shadows that lurkedin the corners of the big room and the howling wind on the roof,said sociably: "Shall we have our dinner on two little tables righthere before the fire, Belle?" And still later, after an evening ofdesultory reading and talking, she suggested that they leave theirbedroom doors open. Belle agreed. If Miss Carter was young, Bellewas younger still.The days went by. Hong served them delicious meals. Timmy wasangelic. They unearthed halma, puzzles, fortune-telling cards. Therain fell steadily; the eaves dripped; the paths were sheets ofwater."It certainly gets on your nerves--doesn't it?" said Miss Carter,when the darkness came on Thursday night. Belle, from the hall, cameand stood beside her at the fireplace."Our 'phone is cut off," said she, uneasily. "The water must of cutdown a pole somewheres. Let's look at the river."Suddenly horror seemed to seize upon them both. They could not crossthe floor fast enough and plunge fast enough into the night. It wasdark out on the porch, and for a moment or two they could seenothing but the swimming blackness, and hear nothing but the gurgleand drip of the rain-water from eaves and roof. The rain hadstopped, or almost stopped. A shining fog seemed to lie flat--highand level over the river-bed.Suddenly, as they stared, this fog seemed to solidify before theireyes, seemed curiously to step into the foreground and show itselffor what it was. They saw it was no longer fog, but water--a levelspread of dark, silent water. The Beaver Creek had flooded its banksand was noiselessly, pitilessly creeping over the world."It's the river!" Belle whispered. "Gee whiz, isn't she high!""What is it?" gasped Miss Carter, from whose face every vestige ofcolor had fled."Why, it's the river!" Belle answered, slowly, uneasily. She heldout her hand. "Thank God, the rain's stopped!" she said under herbreath. Then, so suddenly that Miss Carter jumped nervously, sheshouted: "Hong!"Big Hong came out, and Little Hong. All four stood staring at themotionless water, which was like some great, menacing presence inthe dark--some devil-fish of a thousand arms, content to bide histime.The bungalow stood on a little rise of ground in a curve of theriver. On three sides of it, at all seasons, were the sluggishcurrents of Beaver Creek, and now the waters met on the fourth side.The garden path that led to the Emville road ran steeply now intothis pool, and the road, sloping upward almost imperceptibly,emerged from the water perhaps two hundred feet beyond."Him how deep?" asked Hong."Well, those hollyhocks at the gate are taller than I am," Bellesaid, "and you can't see them at all. I'll bet it's ten feet deepmost of the way."She had grown very white, and seemed to speak with difficulty. MissCarter went into the house, with the dazed look of a woman in adream, and knelt at the piano bench."Oh, my God--my God--my God!" she said in a low, hoarse tone, herfingers pressed tightly over her eyes."Don't be so scared!" said Belle, hardily, though the sight of theother woman's terror had made her feel cold and sick at her stomach."There's lots of things we can do--""There's an attic--""Ye-es," Belle hesitated. "But I wouldn't go up there," she said."It's just an unfloored place under the roof--no way out!""No--no--no--not there, then!" Miss Carter said heavily, paler thanbefore. "But what can we do?""Why, this water is backing up," Belle said slowly, "It's not comingdownstream, so any minute whatever's holding it back may burst andthe whole thing go at once--or if it stops raining, it won't go anyhigher.""Well, we must get away as fast as we can while there is time," saidMiss Carter, trembling, but more composed. "We could swim thatdistance--I swim a little. Then, if we can't walk into Emville,we'll have to spend the night on the hills. We could reach thehills, I should think." Her voice broke. "Oh--this is terrible!" shebroke out frantically--and she began to walk the floor."Hong, could we get the baby acrost?" asked Belle."Oh, the child--of course!" said Miss Carter, under her breath. Hongshook his head."Man come bimeby boat," he suggested. "Me no swim--Little Hong noswim.""You can't swim" cried Miss Carter, despairingly, and covered herface with her hands.Little Hong now came in to make some earnest suggestion in Chinese.His uncle, approving it, announced that they two, unable to swim,would, nevertheless, essay to cross the water with the aid of afloating kitchen bench, and that they would fly for help. Theyimmediately carried the bench out into the night.The two women followed; a hideous need of haste seemed to possessthem all. The rain was falling heavily again."It's higher," said Miss Carter, in a dead tone. Belle eyed thewater nervously."You couldn't push Timmy acrost on that bench?" she ventured.It became immediately evident, however, that the men would beextremely fortunate in getting themselves across. The two dark,sleek heads made slow progress on the gloomy water. The benchtipped, turned slowly, righted itself, and tipped again. Soon theyworked their slow way out of sight.Then came silence--silence!"She's rising!" said Belle.Miss Carter went blindly into the house. She was ashen and seemed tobe choking. She sat down."They'll be back in no time," said she, in a sick voice."Sure!" said Belle, moistening her lips.There was a long silence. Rain drummed on the roof."Do you swim, Belle?" Miss Carter asked after a restless march aboutthe room."Some--I couldn't swim with the baby--"Miss Carter was not listening. She leaned her head against themantelpiece. Suddenly she began to walk again, her eyes wild, herbreath uneven."Well, there must be something we can do, Belle!""I've been trying to think," said Belle, slowly. "A bread boardwouldn't float, you know, even if the baby would sit on it. We'venot got a barrel--and a box--""There must be boxes!" cried the other woman."Yes; but the least bit of a tip would half fill a box with water.No--" Belle shook her head. "I'm not a good enough swimmer."Another short silence."Belle, does this river rise every winter?""Why, yes, I suppose it does. I know one year Emville was floodedand the shops moved upstairs. There was a family named Wescottliving up near here then--" Belle did not pursue the history of theWestcott family, and Miss Carter knew why."Oh, I think it is criminal for people to build in a place likethis!" Miss Carter burst out passionately. "They're safe enough--oh,certainly!" she went on with bitter emphasis. "But they leave us--""It shows how little you know us, thinking we'd run any risk withTimmy--" Belle said stiffly; but she interrupted herself to saysharply: "Here's the water!"She went to the door and opened it. The still waters of Beaver Creekwere lapping the porch steps.Miss Carter made an inarticulate exclamation and went into her room.Belle, following her to her door, saw her tear off her shoes andstockings, and change her gown for some brief, dark garment."It's every one for himself now!" said Miss Carter, feverishly."This is no time for sentiment. If they don't care enough for theirchild to--This is my gym suit--I'm thankful I brought it. Don't beutterly mad, Belle! If the water isn't coming, Timmy'll be allright. If it is, I don't see why we should be so utterly crazy asnot to try to save ourselves. We can easily swim it, and then we canget help--You've got a bathing suit--go put it on. My God, Belle,it's not as if we could do anything by staying. If we could, I'd--"Belle turned away. When Miss Carter followed her, she found her inMrs. Tressady's bedroom, looking down at the sleeping Timmy. Timmyhad taken to bed with him a box of talcum powder wrapped in a towel,as a "doddy." One fat, firm little hand still held the meaninglesstoy. He was breathing heavily, evenly--his little forehead moist,his hair clinging in tendrils about his face."No--of course we can't leave him!" said Miss Carter, heavily, asthe women went back to the living-room. She went frantically fromwindow to window. "It's stopped raining!" she announced."We'll laugh at this to-morrow," said Belle. They went to the door.A shallow sheet of water, entering, crept in a great circle abouttheir very feet."Oh, no--it's not to be expected; it's too much!" Miss Carter cried.Without an instant's hesitation she crossed the porch and splasheddown the invisible steps."I take as great a chance in going as you do in staying," she said,with chattering teeth. "If--if it comes any higher, you'll swim forit--won't you, Belle?""Oh, I'd try it with him as a last chance," Belle answered sturdily.She held a lamp so that its light fell across the water. "That'sright. Keep headed that way!" she said."I'm all right!" Miss Carter's small head was bravely cleaving thesmooth dark water. "I'll run all the way and bring back help in notime," she called back.When the lamp no longer illumined her, Belle went into the house.The door would not shut, but the water was not visibly higher. Shewent in to Timmy's crib, knelt down beside him, and put her armsabout his warm little body.Meanwhile Timmy's father and mother, at the hotel, were far fromhappy. They stopped for a paper on their way to the opera onThursday night; and on their return, finding no later editionprocurable, telephoned one of the newspapers to ask whether therewas anything in the reports that the rivers were rising up roundEmville. On Friday morning Jerry, awakening, perceived his wifehalf-hidden in the great, rose-colored window draperies, barefoot,still in her nightgown, and reading a paper."Jerry," said she, very quietly, "can we go home today? I'm worried.Some of the Napa track has been washed away and they say the water'sbeing pushed back. Can we get the nine o'clock train?""But, darling, it must be eight now.""I know it.""Why not telephone to Belle, dear, and have them all come intoEmville if you like.""Oh, Jerry--of course! I never thought of it." She flew to thetelephone on the wall. "The operator says she can't get them--they're so stupid!" she presently announced.Jerry took the instrument away from her and the little ladycontentedly began her dressing. When she came out of the dressing-room a few moments later, her husband was flinging things into hissuitcase."Get Belle, Jerry?""Nope." He spoke cheerfully, but did not meet her eyes. "Nope. Theycan't get 'em. Lines seem to be down. I guess we'll take the nine.""Jerry,"--Molly Tressady came over to him quietly,--"what did theytell you?""Now, nothing at all--" Jerry began. At his tone terror sprang toMolly's heart and sank its cruel claws there. There was no specialnews from Rising Water he explained soothingly; but, seeing that shewas nervous, and the nine was a through train, and so on--and on--"Timmy--Timmy--Timmy!" screamed Molly's heart. She could not see;she could not think or hear, or taste her breakfast. Her little boy--her little, helpless, sturdy, confident baby, who had never beenfrightened, never alone--never anything but warm and safe anddoubly, trebly guarded--They were crossing a sickening confusion that was the hotel lobby.They were moving in a taxicab through bright, hideous streets. Thenext thing she knew, Jerry was seating her in a parlor car."Yes, I know, dear--Of course--Surely!" she said pleasantly andmechanically when he seemed to expect an answer.--She thought of howhe would have come to meet her; of how the little voice always rangout: "Dere's my muddy!""Raining again!" said Jerry. "It stopped this morning at two. Oh,yes, really it did. We're almost there now. Hello! Here's the boywith the morning papers. See, dear, here's the head-line: Rain Stopsat One-fifty--"But Molly had seen another headline--a big headline that read: "Lossof Life at Rising Water! Governess of Jerome Tressady's Family SwimsOne Mile to Safety!"--and she had fainted away.She was very brave, very reasonable, when consciousness came back,but there could be no more pretence. She sat in the demoralizedlittle parlor of the Emville Hotel--waiting for news--very white,very composed, a terrible look in her eyes. Jerry came and wentconstantly; other people constantly came and went. The flood wasfalling fast now and barges were being towed down the treacherouswaters of Beaver Creek; refugees--and women and children whom themere sight of safety and dry land made hysterical again--were beinggathered up. Emville matrons, just over their own hours of terror,were murmuring about gowns, about beds, about food: "Lots of room--well, thank God for that--you're all safe, anyway!" "Yes, indeed;that's the only thing that counts!" "Well, bless his heart, we'lltell him some day that when he was a baby--" Molly caught scraps oftheir talk, their shaken laughter, their tears; but there was nonews of Belle--of Timmy--"Belle is a splendid, strong country girl, you know, dear," Jerrysaid. "Belle would be equal to any emergency!""Of course," Molly heard herself say.Jerry presently came in from one of his trips to draw a chair closeto his wife's and tell her that he had seen Miss Carter."Or, at least, I've seen her mother," said Jerry, laying arestraining hand upon Molly, who sat bolt upright, her breastheaving painfully--"for she herself is feverish and hysterical,dear. It seems that she left--Now, my darling, you must be quiet.""I'm all right, Jerry. Go on! Go on!""She says that Hong and Little Hong managed to get away early in theevening for help. She didn't leave until about midnight, and Belleand the boy were all right then--""Oh, my God!" cried poor Molly."Molly, dear, you make it harder.""Yes, I know." Her penitent hot hand touched his own. "I know, dear--I'm sorry.""That's all, dear. The water wasn't very high then. Belle wouldn'tleave Timmy-" Jerry Tressady jumped suddenly to his feet and went tostare out the window with unseeing eyes. "Miss Carter didn't getinto town here until after daylight," he resumed, "and the mother,poor soul, is wild with fright over her; but she's all right. Now,Molly, there's a barge going up as far as Rising Water at four. Theysay the bungalow is still cut off, probably, but they'll take us asnear as they can. I'm going, and this Rogers--Belle's friend--willgo, too.""What do you think, Jerry?" she besought him, agonized."My darling, I don't know what to think.""Were--were many lives lost, Jerry?""A few, dear.""Jerry,"--Molly's burning eyes searched his,--"I'm sane now. I'm notgoing to faint again; but--but--after little Jerry--I couldn't bearit and live!""God sent us strength for that, Molly.""Yes, I know!" she said, and burst into bitter tears.It had been arranged that Molly should wait at the hotel for thereturn of the barge; but Jerry was not very much surprised, upongoing on board, to find her sitting, a shadowy ghost of herself, inthe shelter of the boxed supplies that might be needed. He did notprotest, but sat beside her; and Belle's friend, a serious, muscularyoung man, took his place at her other side.The puffing little George Dickey started on her merciful journeyonly after some agonizing delays; but Molly did not comment uponthem once, nor did any one of the trio speak throughout the terriblejourney. The storm was gone now, and pale, uncertain sunlight wasfalling over the altered landscape--over the yellow, sullen currentof the river; over the drowned hills and partly submerged farms. Abroom drifted by; a child's perambulator; a porch chair. Now andthen there was frantic signalling from some little, sober group ofrefugees, huddled together on a water-stained porch or travellingslowly down the heavy roads in a spattered surrey."This is as near as we can go," Jerry said presently. The three wererowed across shallow water and found themselves slowly following onfoot the partly obliterated road they knew so well. A turn of theroad brought the bungalow into view.There the little house stood, again high above the flood, though thegarden was a drenched waste, and a shallow sheet of water still layacross the pathway. The sinking sun struck dazzling lights from allthe windows; no living thing was in sight. A terrible stillness heldthe place!To the gate they went and across the pool. Then Jerry laid arestraining hand on his wife's arm."Yes'm. You'd 'a' better wait here," said young Rogers, speaking forthe first time. "Belle wouldn't 'a' stayed, you may be sure. We'lljust take a look."They were not ten feet from the house, now--hesitating, sick withdread. Suddenly on the still air there was borne a sound thatstopped them where they stood. It was a voice--Belle's voice--tiredand somewhat low, but unmistakably Belle's:"Then i'll go home, my crown to wear;for there's a crown for me--""Belle!" screamed Molly. Somehow she had mounted the steps, crossedthe porch, and was at the kitchen door.Belle and Timothy were in the kitchen--Timothy's little bib tiedabout his neck, Timothy's little person securely strapped in hishigh chair, and Timothy's blue bowl, full of some miraculouslypreserved cereal, before him. Belle was seated--her arms restingheavily and wearily upon his tray, her dress stained to the armpits,her face colorless and marked by dark lines. She turned and sprangup at the sound of voices and feet, and had only time for a weaksmile before she fell quite senseless to the floor. Timmy waved awelcoming spoon, and shouted lustily: "Dere's my muddy!"Presently Belle was resting her head upon Joe's big shoulder, andlaughing and crying over the horrors of the night. Timothy was inhis mother's arms, but Molly had a hand free for Belle's hand anddid not let it go through all the hour that followed. Her arms mighttighten about the delicious little form, her lips brush the tumbledlittle head--but her eyes were all for Belle."It wasn't so fierce," said Belle. "The water went highest at one;and we went to the porch and thought we'd have to swim for it--didn't we, Timmy? But it stayed still a long time, and it wasn'training, and I came in and set Timmy on the mantel--my arms were sotired. It's real lucky we have a mantel, isn't it?""You stood, and held Tim on the mantel: that was it?" asked Jerry."Sure--while we was waiting," said Belle. "I wouldn't have mindedanything, but the waiting was fierce. Timmy was an angel! He setthere and I held him--I don't know--a long time. Then I seen thatthe water was going down again; I could tell by the book-case, and Ibegun to cry. Timmy kept kissing me--didn't you, lover?" Shelaughed, with trembling lips and tearful eyes. "We'll have a finetime cleaning this house," she broke off, trying to steady hervoice; "it's simply awful--everything's ruined!""We'll clean it up for your marriage, Belle," said Jerry,cheerfully, clearing his throat. "Mrs. Tressady and I are going tostart Mr. Rogers here in business--""If you'd loan it to me at interest, sir-" Belle's young man beganhoarsely. Belle laid her hand over Molly's, her voice tender andcomforting--for Molly was weeping again."Don't cry, Mis' Tress'dy! It's all over now, and here we are safeand sound. We've nothing to cry over. Instead," said Belle,solemnly, "we'd ought to be thanking God that there was a member ofthe family here to look out for Timmy, instead of just that hiredgoverness and the Chinee boys!"
zpostcode
Recruit
weather
mreligion
Yellowpages
sport
constellation
shopping
name
game
directory
literature
Word
tour
furnish
Lottery
tftnews
lyrics
News
digital
car
dir
Edu
Finance
