CHAPTER XX

John Upjohn Junior ran into the house just in time for supper. He was so excited and his entrance was so precipitate that he almost collided with his mother, who had just reached the foot of the stairs; and only by the exercise of almost superhuman agility he managed to avoid that catastrophe. It was just as well, for many reasons; the reason which influenced John Junior being that such an accident was likely to result, then and thereafter, in more damage to himself than to his mother.

He flung his cap down on the hall table with such violence that it slid off and fell upon the floor; but he could not pick it up at the moment because he was engaged in shedding his overcoat, which immediately slipped off of his arms upon a chair. He began to speak at once.

"M--m--m--moth--ther!" he exclaimed explosively. "I--I--'v--ve--darn it all!"

Mrs. Upjohn rebuked her offspring mildly. "John, what is the matter with you? Is your name Carling, that you can't speak without stuttering so? And I should think you would do well to moderate your language, at any rate when you speak to your mother. And you must learn to come into the house less like a tornado. Come in quietly, like a gentleman."

John Junior gave a contemptuous grunt. "J--just been h--hearing the Carlings talking. That's wh--why I can't talk 'n' wh--why I st--st--stut--t--ter so. Gosh darn it! I mean hang it!"

"Pick up your cap, John," Mrs. Upjohn commanded sternly. "And hang it, if you will." This pun of Mrs. Upjohn's somewhat softened her stern command. She could not help smiling.

John kicked his cap out from behind the table and, picking it up, threw it at the hat-rack, where it happened to catch and stick. He began again.

"I--I--I'v--ve g--g--got s--s--s--"

"Suppose you go up and wash your face and hands," Mrs. Upjohn suggested, "and come down to supper. The bell rang before you came in. When you come down you may be able to talk intelligibly."

So John Junior rushed upstairs and, after an incredibly short period, during which we must suppose that he went through some sort of an operation which he regarded as sufficient, he appeared again, slid down the balusters like lightning, landed at the bottom with an appalling thump, and ran into the dining-room.

"Guess I can talk now," he announced, taking his chair by the back and sliding it under him. "I was hurrying home, so's not to be late to supper, when I came up behind the Carlings. They--Letty ain't here, is she?" he added, looking about doubtfully.

"No," Mrs. Upjohn replied. "You know that Letty won't come again for more than a month."

"Huh!" growled John Junior. "She will if she feels like it. Never can tell when she'll be here. She's always here."

Mrs. Upjohn was a little slow about taking anything in. She had been puzzling over John's former speech and had just the full import of it.

"Did you say the Carlings, John?" she asked. "I don't see how that can be, for Harry's in Cambridge."

"He ain't either," John replied amiably. "Don't you s'pose I'd know those freaks? I guess I would."

"Well," said Mrs. Upjohn doubtfully.

"And they were talking together," John continued, "or trying to talk. They didn't know I was behind 'em, and I kept still as I could so's I could hear what they said. They ought to have an interpreter. But I got most of it, and then I slid out for fear they'd see me. What d'you s'pose they were talking about?"

"I'm sure I don't know," said Mrs. Upjohn curiously.

"What?"

John kept his mother in suspense while he disposed of his mouthful. He swallowed twice, then took a drink of water. At last he was ready and he looked at his mother, suspending operations for that purpose.

"Charlie Ladue's a gambler," he announced abruptly.

"What!" Mrs. Upjohn exclaimed. But she was pleased in spite of herself. What would Letty say to that? "Are you sure you heard it right?"

"'Course I'm sure."

"Well, John, I'm grieved to hear it. You must be careful not to talk about it."

"'Course I won't talk about it. I'll stop now if you want me to."

"No," said Mrs. Upjohn judicially. "No, I think you ought to tell me all you heard. How long has it been going on and where does Charlie go?"

So John Junior retailed at some length all that he had heard, rather to the neglect of his supper. Certain important details were lacking and he had to fill them in from his imaginings, which were rather defective as to the points under discussion.

"Well," said Mrs. Upjohn, when the recital and the supper were both finished, "I think somebody ought to be told. I don't just like to tell Sally, but she ought to know."

"They didn't want to tell Sally either. Horry Carling's in her office and he could tell her easy enough if he wanted to."

"That's so," Mrs. Upjohn agreed. "I guess I'll tell Patty. I have a pretty good idea where Charlie's money came from. Patty won't thank me, but somebody ought to open her eyes. I'll go out there to-morrow. I wonder if I couldn't find somebody who's going out. You look around, early to-morrow, before school, and see if you can't find somebody that's going and send him up here. There's no need to hire a horse, for that."

Accordingly the grocer's delivery wagon stopped at the house the next forenoon, and the boy asked for Mrs. Upjohn. That lady came to the door, looking a little puzzled. It seemed that John had--

Mrs. Upjohn laughed. "And he's gone to school," she said. "I didn't mean that he should ask you." She laughed again. "But I don't know why I shouldn't go in a grocery wagon. It's perfectly respectable."

"Yes, ma'am," the boy replied, grinning. "And it's a very nice wagon, almost new, and it's very comfortable."

Patty was sitting at her window when the grocer's wagon stopped at the door and Mrs. Upjohn got out.

"Mercy on us!" Patty exclaimed. "If there isn't Alicia Upjohn! She'll break her neck. Come in a grocer's wagon! Alicia was always queer, but there is a point beyond which--yes, there _is_ a point beyond which she should not allow herself to go." And Miss Patty gasped faintly and leaned back, and in a few minutes she heard Mrs. Upjohn at her door.

That interview was painful to Patty, at least. Mrs. Upjohn was rather pressed for time, as the grocer's boy could not wait more than fifteen minutes. It is a little difficult to break unwelcome news gently in fifteen minutes. It might have been difficult to break this particular news, which was very unwelcome, even if there had been no time limit set by a grocer's boy. But within ten minutes Mrs. Upjohn had Patty in tears and protesting her belief in Charlie's innocence and exhibiting all her characteristic obstinacy in the face of proof. Had not Charlie been there that very morning to see her? He had just left, indeed, and he had been as loving as the most exacting of doting aunts could wish. Didn't Alicia suppose that she, Patty, would be able to detect any signs of wrong-doing on his part? At which Alicia smiled and made a reply which made Patty almost frantic and within the five minutes which remained Patty had told Alicia that she would do well to mind her own business and she wished she would go and never come near her again. So, the fifteen minutes being almost up, Alicia went, with what dignity she could summon. She met Doctor Beatty in the lower hall and told him that he had better see to Patty, who seemed beside herself. He went at once; and Mrs. Upjohn seized that opportunity to climb into her seat beside the grocer's boy.

Doctor Beatty was with Patty a long time and used every art he had--he hadn't many, but he used all he had with a degree of patience that was surprising--to quiet Patty, who needed quieting if ever anybody did. He was more alarmed by that disturbance of Patty's than he would have acknowledged; more than he had expected, he found, although he had been in daily expectation of something of the kind.

He found her muttering to herself and exclaiming brokenly. She looked at him with wild eyes. "Go away!" she cried as he entered. "He's not, I tell you. He never did!"

"No," Doctor Beatty agreed calmly. "Certainly not. But there! You don't want me to go away, Patty." He pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Not that chair!" she cried. "Not that chair! That's the chair she sat in--Alicia Upjohn. If you sit in it you'll say so, too. Take any other, but not that one."

"Oh, very well," he said. And he drew up another chair and sat down. "Now, tell me what's the matter."

At this Patty began to weep violently. Her sentences were broken, and now and then she gave a loud cry that seemed to be wrung from her heart.

"Alicia oughtn't to have said it. She might have known how--that I--how I would f-f--Oh!" She could not speak for a moment. "She just wanted me to think that that was where my money went. She's a spiteful thing. Oh, how could she? How could she? Cruel! Cruel!" Patty fell to weeping again. She seemed to lose all control over herself. She rocked to and fro and leaned so far over, in her new fit of crying, that Doctor Beatty put out his hand to save her from falling. He was glad to have her cry so.

She seized his hand and pressed it and looked up at him appealingly, her eyes raining tears. "Oh, Meriwether," she sobbed, "you don't think he does, do you? Tell me that you don't."

He looked down into those faded eyes. "Certainly I don't, Patty," he answered gently. Out of the pity which he felt for her, he may have pressed her hand a little. He had but the faintest idea what she was talking about.

Patty flushed and relaxed her hold upon his hand. "You are a c-c-comfort, Meriwether," she said more calmly. "It is a great deal to know that I have one friend, at least, who understands me. I--I--have so few, Meriwether!" She began to sob again. "S-so f-f-few, and I used to have so so many!"

"Cry quietly as much as you like, Patty. It will do you good."

He made a slight movement, at which Patty cried out.

"Don't go! Don't go yet!" She put out her hand blindly, as if to stop him.

"I'll stay until you are yourself again. Never fear." He sighed faintly.

It was a new role for Doctor Beatty, but he played it better than would have been expected. Patty turned to the window and he heard the sound of sobbing steadily for some time. At last the sound ceased. She was sitting with her chin resting on her hand, which held her wet handkerchief crumpled up into a tight ball; and she was looking out through her tears, but seeing nothing, and she seemed to have difficulty in breathing.

"He's such a good boy--to me!" she said, without turning. "Such a good boy! I am so fond of him that it almost breaks my heart to have anybody say--say such things. How can they? How can they have the heart?" She gave a single sob.