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Show f? r nn i? n r n I By sen nines luuimms Ben Ames Wllllami. CHAPTER XII Continued 25 When Phil again looked at his mother, he saw that she had dropped the telegram, had bent down to pick it up; and he saw that she seemed unable to do so. Her arm hung straight down from her shoulder; shoul-der; and her fingers lay with then-backs then-backs on the floor, two or three inches away from the telegram, her knuckles touching the rug. Her hand was white and bloodless. He stooped for the yellow paper; and she said, laughing uncertainly: "That's funny, Phil! I was trying to pick up the telegram and I couldn't seem to reach down far enough and then I saw my hand was touching the floor, but I couldn't feel it at all." Her utterance was hurried; she mumbled the words as though her tongue were thick. One side of her face, Phil saw, was lifeless, sagging sag-ging as though the flesh were dead upon her bones. They could hear Dan's voice, swift and eager, up in Barbara's room. CHAPTER XIII When in that moment after Dan went racing to find Barbara, Mrs. Sentry stooped to pick up the telegram tele-gram she had dropped, and could not do so, and saw though she felt nothing her own nerveless fingers lying like a dead hand on the rug, she thought: This is the beginning of the end for me. As she thought: Oh, I am glad, glad! Let it not be too long. To be with Arthur, soon! But then when Phil returned and she spoke to him, mumbling her words, feeling her tongue thick and clumsy in her mouth, she saw the terror in his eyes, and she made herself smile to reassure him; and he came toward her, urged her quickly: "Sit down, mother. Lie down. I'll call Doctor Mainton." "I'm all right, Phil," she said. "It's nothing. My hand went to sleep, that's all." He started toward the telephone; but she checked him. "No, Phil. It's nothing, really. I'm all right now." Her tongue was normal; nor-mal; her hand too. Only she saw that her thumb was uncontrolled, was curled into her palm; and when she tried to straighten it she could not, and she thought: It's my left side, of course. As though it were asleep. If only it would not wake. If only I could sleep, sleep, all of me. Till Arthur comes. Dan's voice above-stairs was no loneer audible. Phil said heartily. fighting his own fears: "Of course you're all' right! But just the same, Doctor Mainton " "I'll see him tomorrow," she promised. "At his office." Phil looked toward the hall, as though expecting his sister to appear. ap-pear. "How do you feel about that?" he asked. "About Dan?" "Barbara is the one to decide. If she is if she loves him, then I shall be happy too." She was thinking: Since I am to die, what does it matter? Certainly not to Barbara. She is so young, such a child. Dan will love her; and she will forget . . . Then she heard their voices, their steps on the stairs; and they were here, their eyes shining, yet with a sober gravity. Barbara came to her mother; and Mrs. Sentry waited, wait-ed, and Barbara asked slowly, "Dan has told you, mother?" "Yes, Barb." "We've been hoping and hoping he could find something!" Mrs. Sentry smiled almost teas-ingly. teas-ingly. "Oh, you had it all decided, already planned?" "If he could find the job he wanted, want-ed, yes," Barbara confessed. "And I hoped it would be soon." Mrs. Sentry's eyes fell, so that Barbara might not read them. Dan said quickly, "I have to be ready to start work out there on Monday, Mrs. Sentry." "That is July first?" "Yes." rrni mougni ner voice was miraculously mirac-ulously steady. "You will come back for Barbara later?" "I thought we'd be married at once, go to Cleveland together!" Mrs. Sentry nodded gently. "1 used to think hurried weddings lacked dignity," she confessed. "But I expect they are sweeter than dignity." Nellie came to announce dinner, and she said, "Stay, Dan?" But he could not "I've still a job here," he reminded them. "I'll have to run." Barbara went with him to the door; and Phil asked his mother in a low tone, "All right now?" "Of course, Phil." "If Barbara knew about you, she'd wait!" She shook her head, smiling. "I won't cry-baby, spoil Barbara's happiness. She loves him, Phil. Only it will be hard to have her go." They heard Dan depart, heard the door close. Then Barbara, as they moved toward the dining-room, met them in the hull; and for a mo-mpnt mo-mpnt she held her mother close. "Thank you, mother," she said. "You're wonderful to me. Dan wants to take me with him; and I want terribly tn be a coward and go." She looked at Phil, reading his thoughts. "He says even if we get married this week he can fix it so there wouldn't be anything in the papers." Mrs. Sentry said, "I'm sure he can!" Barbara looked at her keenly; and after a moment the girl cried: "But I'm not going! I'll stay with you till till afterward, mother. I'll go to Dan then." Mrs. Sentry spoke carefully. "It's for you to decide," she said. "But I should be glad to have you stay." "I shall!" Barbara promised. "Oh mother, I shall." She was suddenly sud-denly mature, a woman; and yet, Phil thought at dinner, she seemed conscious of this, and faintly diffident, diffi-dent, so that beneath the cloak of maturity which she put on he saw still the child, terrified yet brave ... He thought with a deep affection affec-tion and solicitude: I wish she could marry Dan and go. She could if mother did not need her so. But mother will need her, tomorrow, after aft-er we see the Governor ... Barbara was still asleep in the morning when he took Mrs. Sentry to Doctor Mainton's office. The doctor doc-tor heard their story, and then with that calloused insensibility characteristic charac-teristic of physicians, left Phil to "Phil, Mr. Wines Is Here." wait alone for two hours while he applied to Mrs. Sentry every test known to scientific medicine. But his report in the end was reassuring. re-assuring. He said, to them both: "Well, Mrs. Sentry, I've checked up in every possible way; and there is nothing organically wrong with you. I am satisfied there has been no cerebral accident. Your nerves are worn out, and just before be-fore this happened you had your arms tight folded with your clenched fist under your left arm. That shut off the blood supply, perhaps; and the strain you have been under, and a cramped position, and fatigue did the rest. That is all, I am sure." Phil asked, "Ought we to do anything any-thing about it?" Doctor Mainton hesitated. "Take your mother away somewhere," he said then. "To your summer home at York Harbor, perhaps. Can you go today?" Mrs. Sentry said, "I am to see the Governor at two this afternoon." She thought Doctor Mainton might forbid this, tell her not to go; and she prepared to resist him. But he did not "Then afterward?" he urged. "Later in the afternoon. Go up there and get plenty of rest and sleep. Those are the only drugs you need." At home they found Barbara awake, and wondering where they had been, and surprised to find Phil not gone to his office; but she was too much absorbed in her own happiness hap-piness to be diligent with questions, and they put her off. Then she remembered re-membered that Mr. Falkran had telephoned, to speak to Phil. "I told him he could catch you in town," she said. "Maybe you'd better bet-ter call him up." Phil met his mother's eye, and he went into the library to phone. Falkran said, "I've bad news, Mr. Sentry." Phil felt the blood pound in his ears against the receiver. "Yes?" "I saw the Governor," Falkran explained. "He is willing to see Mrs. Sentry if she insists, but only as a matter of courtesy. His decision is already taken." Phil found himself nodding, without with-out speaking; and then Falkran's voice came in his ear. "Hello? Sentry? Sen-try? Did you hear?" "Yes. Oh. yes." "He says the interview would be useless, but of course he will see her if she wishes." Phil's shoulders straightened, he assumed the responsibility of decision. de-cision. "Thank you, Mr. Falkran," he said. "I should say it will not be necessary." "She will not come?" "She will not come," said Phil. He waited a little before returning return-ing to the others. They had gone out Into the garden together; and he saw them through the window, walking arm in arm, his mother with her head bent, Barbara talking talk-ing in swift eager fashion. When he came out to them, she was still chattering; and he asked with a wry grin, "Broadcasting, Barb?" "Oh, what did Mr. Falkran want?" she demanded. "Nothing," he said. "Business." He spoke to his mother. "That meeting meet-ing is off," he told her In tones which he tried to make casual." "Falkran is satisfied it would do no good." He saw her instant understanding; understand-ing; but Barbara protested: "What meeting? Don't be so mysterious!" "Why, I wanted to see Dan's boss," Phil said with mock gravity. grav-ity. "To see if he wouldn't meet that Cleveland offer, try to keep Dan here; but he says Dan isn't worth what they're already paying him, much less more! Says Dan can go and welcome!" Barbara laughed. "All right, have secrets if you want to. I can't both er with you. I've too much on my mind." He strolled with them around the house toward the tennis court, thinking think-ing he ought to go to town, but reluctant re-luctant to leave his mother. Watching Watch-ing her, while Barbara's gay tongue ran, he saw that she In turn was watching Barbara, as though in wonder that the girl because she loved Dan could even In this hour be somehow happy; and he saw a change in his mother's demeanor, a slow dawning resolution in her eyes. Till at last she spoke, interrupting interrupt-ing Barbara's bright chatter. "I've been thinking, Barbara," she said, "about you and Dan. I suppose there's really no reason why you two shouldn't be married at once. Then you can go to Cleveland with him." Barbara's eyes were bright with sudden bliss, and Mrs. Sentry said, "After all, it would be inconvenient in-convenient and expensive, for a struggling young newspaper man to come way back here just to marry mar-ry you." Her tone was light, affectionate, full of understanding. The girl stood very still, and her eyes filled and overflowed. She said gratefully: "You're sweet, mother! And I do want to marry Dan right away, be fore he goes." She hesitated. "But I'm not going to leave you yet I'll wait with you, go to him by and by." "There's nothing to wait for here." The girl spoke bravely. "I think there is. I can't help thinking there will be something. But if you don't mind our getting married first, before be-fore Dan goes " Mrs. Sentry smiled. "No, I don't mind." Barbara caught her mother rapturously, rap-turously, kissed her hard, whirled away toward the house like a dancer. danc-er. "I've got to telephone Dan this minute!" she cried, and was gone. Mrs. Sentry looked after her; and Phil put his arm across his mother's shoulders. "That was great, mother!" moth-er!" he said. "You've made her so darned happy! And I know what it meant to you to let her go." She said, half to herself: "I've built my life, Phil, on pride. And I've been selfish too. But we've nothing noth-ing of pride left, and I'll be happier hap-pier if Barbara is happy. I'll have to start rebuilding my life on some -other foundation besides pride and selfishness now." So Dan and Barbara were married, mar-ried, in the big living-room, with Phil, Linda and Mrs. Sentry as only witnesses. Mrs. Sentry during the intervening days and on that wedding wed-ding day sometimes clung secretly to Phil's arm; but she managed to do nothing to alarm Barbara or distress her. They were married just after noon; then Dan took train for Cleveland and was gone. This was Friday, the twenty-eighth twenty-eighth of June. After Dan's departure, de-parture, Phil proposed to his mother that they all drive away to York. "Just for the week-end?" he suggested. sug-gested. She hesitated, asked then, "Phil, when will it be?" She added firmly: "What day? What hour?" He spoke in a low tone. "Why, usually just after midnight," he said.- "The first day?" "Yes. Monday." "I wanted ,.0 know," she explained, ex-plained, apologetically. "I'm much better here than in York, till then." He urged: "But Doctor Main-ton Main-ton " "Afterward, possibly," she said decisively. "For now, we will stay here." So they stayed. Saturday morning, morn-ing, at Mrs. Sentry's insistence, Phil went to the office as usual. He and Linda drove in together, Phil at the wheel, Linda close against his side; and tney spoke little. At his desk he ran through the morning mail with her; and when she had gone to her typewriter he sat idle, his hands in front of him, palms down upon the top of the desk, and he stared at his own hands as though he had never seen them before. be-fore. Then Linda came back in. He raised his eyes heavily; and she said, "Phil, Mr. Wines is here." For a moment the name was meaningless to him. "Mr. Wines?" "Her father," Linda reminded him. "He wants to see you." Phil came tautly to his feet. "What about, Linda? Is there anything any-thing " He could not shape the words. But she shook her head. "No," she said. "It's about a letter he's had from Mr. Hare. Some money your father's sending him." Phil remembered that his father had created a trust for the old man; he said miserably, "I don't want to see him, Lin." He picked up his hat. "You take care of him. I suppose sup-pose he wants more. Try to satisfy him. I'm going home to mother. You can handle him, can't you?" "Of course," she promised. (TO BE COXTIKVED) |