The Girl from Keller's Part 20

"You know it's never done."

"It's going to be done now, or you won't get your cheque. I know what I'm up against in you and your gang."

Wilkinson hesitated, but he needed the money and made out the bill.

After examining it, Sadie wrote a cheque.

"I've paid you once, for Keller's sake, but you had better stop the card games after this. Bob's not my partner in the business, and no more of my dollars will go on gambling."

"Ah!" said Wilkinson sharply, "you're smarter than I thought!"

Sadie gave him a searching glance and he noted an ominous tenseness in her pose and her drawn-back lips. He said afterwards that she looked like a wild cat.

"Anyhow, I think I have you fixed. There's nothing doing in making Bob drunk again, but you had better understand what's going to happen if you try. The next time you drive over to the settlement after my husband I'll whip you in the street with a riding quirt."

Wilkinson put the cheque in his pocket and picked up his hat.

"On the whole, I guess I'd better not risk it," he said and went out.

Sadie let him go, and then went limply upstairs. She felt worn out and her brain was dull. She could not think, and a problem that demanded solving must wait until the morning. After looking into the room where Charnock lay and seeing that he was sleeping heavily, she went to bed.

Next morning she shut herself in the office at the store and gave the clerks strict orders that she was not to be disturbed. Opening a drawer, she took out a rough balance sheet, which showed that the business was profitable and expanding fast. Things were going very well, in spite of Bob's extravagance, and she thought she had prevented his wasting any more money. In three or four years she could sell the hotel and store for a large sum and, as she thought of it, give herself a chance.

She was young, clever, and attractive, and had recently tried to cultivate her mind. It was laborious work and she had not much time, but the clergyman of the little Episcopal church gave her some guidance and she made progress. For one thing, she was beginning to talk like Bob and thought he noticed this, although she had not told him about her studies. She meant to be ready to take her part in a wider and brighter life when she left the settlement. Knowing little about large towns, she exaggerated the pleasures they could offer. Montreal, for example, was a city of delight. She had been there twice and had seen the Ice Palace glitter against the frosty sky, the covered skating rinks, the jingling sleighs, and the toboggans rus.h.i.+ng down the long, white slides. Then she remembered afternoon drives in summer on the wooded slopes of the Mountain, and evenings spent among the garish splendors of Dominion Park, where myriads of lights threw their colored reflections upon the river. Since then, however, her taste had got refined, and she now admitted that if she lived at Montreal it might be better to cut out Dominion Park.

But she pulled herself up. It looked as if these delights were not for her. She could enjoy them, if she wanted, in a few years' time, but the risk was great. Bob might go to pieces while she earned the money that would open the gate of fairyland. Although she had checked the pace a little, he was going the wrong way fast. Sadie knitted her dark brows as she nerved herself to make a momentous choice.

On the one hand there was everything she longed for; on the other much that she disliked--monotonous work, the loneliness of the frozen prairie in the bitter winter, the society, at very long intervals, of farmers who talked about nothing but their crops, and the unslackening strain of activity in the hot summer. Sadie thought of it with shrinking; she would soon get old and faded, and Bob, for whose sake she had done so, might turn from her. Yet there was danger for him if they stayed at the settlement. He had too many friends and whisky was always about. She must save him from the constant temptation and must do so now.

For all that, she struggled. There were specious arguments for taking the other course. Bob had failed as a farmer and would certainly fail again if left to himself; but farming was the only occupation on the lonely prairie. Loneliness was essential, because he must be kept away from the settlements. But she saw the weak point in this reasoning, because Bob need not be left to himself. She would, so to speak, stand over him and see he did his work. Well, it looked as if she must let her ambitions go, and she got up, straightening her body with a little resolute jerk.

"Tell the boss I want him," she said to the clerk.

Charnock came in, looking haggard and somewhat ashamed, and Sadie knew she had made the right choice when he sat down where the light touched his face. For a moment he blinked and frowned.

"I wish you'd pull down that blind," he said. "The sun's in my eyes, and I can't get round the desk."

Sadie did so, and then silently gave him Wilkinson's bill. He gazed at the paper with surprise, and colored.

"I'd no idea I lost so much. Why did you pay him?"

"Because you can't," said Sadie. "He thought you had a share in the business when he risked his dollars."

"I suppose that means you told him I wasn't your partner?"

"It does."

"I see," said Charnock, with some dryness. "You thought he'd leave me alone if he knew I wasn't worth powder and shot? Well, I believe it's very possible." Then he paused and smiled. "I can imagine his astonishment when you asked for a bill, and must admit that you're a sport. All the same, it's humiliating to have my friends told you don't trust me with money."

"The trouble is I can't trust you. Now you listen, Bob. This tanking and gambling has got to be stopped."

"I'm afraid I've given you some bother," Charnock answered penitently.

"For all that, I'm not so bad as I was. In fact, I really think I'm steadying down by degrees, and since you have paid my debts I don't mind promising--"

"By degrees won't do; you have got to stop right off. Besides, you know how much your promises are worth."

Charnock colored. "That's rather cruel, Sadie, but I suppose it's deserved."

"I don't mean what you think; not your promise to Miss Dalton," Sadie answered with some embarra.s.sment. "You told me you wouldn't drive over to Wilkinson's again, and the first time I wasn't about you went. Very well. Since I can't trust you round the settlement, we're going to quit.

I've decided to sell out the business as soon as I can get the price I want."

"Sell the store and hotel!" Charnock exclaimed. "I suppose you know you'd get three or four times as much if you held on for a few years."

"That's so. But what's going to happen to you while I wait?"

Charnock turned his head for a moment, and then looked up with a contrite air.

"By George, Sadie, you are fine! But I can't allow this sacrifice."

"You won't be asked," Sadie rejoined with forced quietness. She was moved by Charnock's exclamation, but durst not trust him or herself.

There was a risk of his persuading her to abandon the plan if he knew how deeply she was stirred.

"Well," he said, "what do you propose to do?"

"Take a farm far enough from town to make it hard for you to drive in and out. Donaldson's place would suit; he quits in the fall, you know, and we hold his mortgage."

Charnock got up and walked about the floor. Then he stopped opposite his wife.

"You mean well, Sadie, and you're very generous," he said with some emotion. "Still you ought to see the plan won't work. I had a good farm and made a horrible mess of things."

"You won't do that now. I'll be there," Sadie rejoined.

Charnock did not answer, but gave her a curious look, and she pondered for a moment or two. He was obviously moved, but one could not tell how far his emotions went, and she knew he did not want to listen. She understood her husband and knew he sometimes deceived himself.

"No!" He resumed; "it's too big a sacrifice! You like people about you and would see n.o.body but me and the hired man, while I admit I'm enough to jar a woman's nerves. Then think of the work; the manual work. You couldn't live as the bachelors live among dust and dirt, and it's a big undertaking to keep a homestead clean when you can't get proper help.

Besides, there's the baking, cooking, and was.h.i.+ng, while you have done nothing but superintend. I'd hate to see you worn and tired, and you know you're not so patient then. I get slack if things go wrong, and if I slouched about, brooding, when I ought to be at work, it would make you worse."

Sadie smiled. "That's very nice, Bob; but how much are you thinking about me and how much about yourself?"

"To tell the truth, I don't know," Charnock replied with nave honesty.

"Anyhow, I am thinking about you."

"That is what I like, but there's no use in talking. Since I can make this business go I can run a farm, and see no other way. My plan's made and I'm going to put it over."

Charnock was silent for some moments and then turned to her with a look in his face she had not seen.

"I don't want to farm, but if you can stand it for my sake, I must try.

You will need some patience, Sadie--I may break out at times if the strain gets too hard. One can't help running away when one is something of a cur. But I'll come back, ashamed and sorry, and pitch in again.

Since you mean to stand by me, perhaps I'll win out in the end."