| OCR Text |
Show Xite- r p- FICTIOtsI GI2G3T GH DROADVAY V- " I P.v ROBFET MeBLAIR i i Cot nee I. . IN THINKING of It afterward, Nettie Brainard could never get rid of the feeling that the light actually actu-ally did change. In her empty tea room, the telephone on the cashier's de:ik rang. Although It was nearly noon, oil of Broadway near Union Square seemed to dim to a queer, eerie twilight. "Is this Miss Nettie Brainard?" a man's voice inquired. "Yes," Nettie said into the Instrument Instru-ment "Are you the daughter of Bena-mln Bena-mln Brainard, deceased, and Nettie Bharp?" "Yes. Yes, I am." i "Is your mother there?" "She's busy In the kitchen Just ter, Nettie, at a time when her fiance, bcnamin Erainard, was out of town on business. Nettie Sharp, then a girl of seventeen, had found Jerry Angus, the irresponsible wastrel, wast-rel, more enchanting than her businesslike busi-nesslike and absent fiance. Her parents par-ents ended that romance, but not before Jerry An'ius and Nettie Sharp pledged eternal devotion in a secret meeting arranged by the black sheep Tom Sharp. It was a heartbreaking farewell. Jerry Angus and Tom Sharp left together to hunt gold in Alaska, and after that adventured In the Far East. Young Nettie Sharp married Benamin Brainard after all, and had one child, Nettie, before Benamin Bena-min Brainard died. He told me about the operation your mother needs, which requires money. He told me more, Nettie. Something about himself. But that was confidential." Nettie's heart stopped beating. Was it some other girl? "What did he tell you?" she cried. "Never mind. But, look, Nettie. This cash came from smuggling arms in a good cause. Let it do some good!" He laid a brown envelope in Nettie's Net-tie's palm. His hand, she noticed, was weathered, and had on Its back a large strawberry birthmark. "But, Uncle Tom!" she protested. "Now, now!" He got up. "Of course you wouldn't take ten thousand thou-sand dollars from just anybody. t , rj-. iiT ; 1 i T. V r 'Vl'- ,-7 i-; . now. She'll be busy for half an hour. Who Is tills, please?" "This is Thomas Sharp. Your Uncle Tom." Nettle gasped. "Uncle Toml But but but you are deadl" The man's laugh had a hollow ound. "Not quite," he said. "But five years ago, up home in Maine, we got a registered package," pack-age," Nettie Insisted, her voice shaking slightly. "It held four British Brit-ish bonds, and his your passport rtamped in Chinese and Russian, and a letter from Harbin, signed by Jerry Angus, saying that you had " The man laughed again. "Now, Nettle, don't be so upset by thlsl Anything may happen in the Far East. Besides, I left home twenty-five twenty-five years ago. Before you were born." "Well," said Nettle swallowing. "Now don't say anything to your mother. I want to speak to you alone. I'll be right over." He hung up. The light, seemed to flood back into the deserted tea room. "Heavens above!" Nettle aid aloud. "Uncle Tom! Alive! Alive, after all! What ever shall I He laid a brown envelope In Nettie's palm. His hand, she noticed, had on Its back a large strawberry birthmark. say to hlmT Why does he want to talk to me alone? Why, It's like raving rav-ing a visit from from a ghost!" Across the street, her mortal enemies, ene-mies, the two quick lunch places, with their neon signs and their bargains bar-gains In coffee and doughnuts, now became friends for once. They assured as-sured her that she was not in some timeless world of the spirit. Instead, she was in the bustling world of today, to-day, where a girl of twenty-two, who loves a young doctor way back In her home, town, is glad to stand by her ailing mother in New York, and try to make a tea room pay in a section where there is no room for tea rooms. "Uncle Toml" Nettle said again. All she could remember of him was that he was a black sheep, or something some-thing worse. Her own father, Benamin Bena-min Brainard, never would permit his name to be spoken. This was because, over twenty-five years ago, Tom Sharp nearly had broken off Benamin Bralnard's engagement to Nettie's mother. Tom Sharp had brought home some ruffian named Jerry Angus, and had Introduced hirri to his sis- Tom Sharp became an occasional, rambling letter from some unknown far Eastern place. Then, from Harbin, Har-bin, his passport and his legacy had come to his sister. Now Tom Sharp was alive again and hurrying to see his sister's daughter. Just then the front door opened. In stepped a bouncy, stocky, gray-haired gray-haired man. "Well, Nettie," he said heartily, "come sit by your Uncle Tom. Yes, you've got your mother's bright brown eyes." He led her to one of the yellow tables. "Yes, yes, my dear. No one likes to be visited by a ghost!" He roared with laughter. "It was poor Jerry Angus who played that joke on me. Left me with no passport and no money. The crazy fool." He glanced toward the kitchen. "But I mustn't waste time like this. I found you by phoning the doctor in the old home town. The same name, but the son of the one I used to know. That's how time flies! . . . You've too much pride for that, I hope. But blood's thicker than water, wa-ter, child. Besides, if you and your mother must have a tea room, this will let you have one back home. . . . Take the advice of a wanderer, Nettie. Marry. Settle down. Don't miss love when it comes by." He kissed her roughly on the mouth. Then he was gone, leaving Nettie feeling that this visit, from one mourned as dead, simply could never have happened. The kitchen door opened. Nettie's mother came in. . "How can I begin to -tell her?" Nettie thought. "I couldn't hear what that man was saying." Her mother was talking. talk-ing. "But his voice seemed to be one I had heard as a girl. I kept expecting ex-pecting you to call me, Nettie. I wondered if I would know anyone I hadn't seen for so long. Like your Uncle Tom; well, I suppose I would know him.'' She sat down and picked up a fork. "As for Jerry Angus," she went on, "the boy who wanted to marry me, years ago, I would know him anywhere. He had a strawberry birthmark on the back of his left hand." She cut off a bit of lettuce. "Why are you suddenly looking so happy, Nettie? Do stop mooning, dear, and bring your mother her tea." |
