The Stolen Singer Part 19

"I've never been inside the old red house since he died," said Mrs.

Stoddard.

"I'm sorry!" cried Agatha. "It is hard for you to come there, I know."

"He maketh the rough places plain," chanted Susan Stoddard. "Hercules was a good brother and a good man!"

Agatha laid her arm about the older woman's shoulder, and thus was led out to Little Simon's buggy. Susan helped her in, and Agatha leaned back, with closed eyes, indifferent to the beauty of early afternoon on a cool summer's day. Little Simon let her ride in quiet, but landed her in the dust on the opposite side of the road from the lilac bushes.

"Those trees!" said Doctor Thayer's voice, as he came out to meet her.

"How did you make out with Susan?"

"She's coming," said Agatha. "Is your patient any better?"

"I don't think he's any worse," answered the doctor dubiously, "but I'm glad Susan's coming. I'd be glad to know how you got round her."

Agatha paused a moment before replying, "I wrestled with her."

The doctor smiled grimly, "I've known the wrestling to come out the other way."

"I can believe that!" said Agatha.

"Well, it's fairly to your credit!" And perhaps this was as near praise as his New England speech ever came.

CHAPTER XV

ECHOES FROM THE CITY

Sallie Kingsbury, unused to psychological a.n.a.lysis, could not have explained why Mr. Hand was so objectionable to her. He was no relative of the family, she had discovered that; and, accustomed as she was to the old-fas.h.i.+oned gentility of a thrifty New England town, instinct told her that he could not possibly be one of its varied products. He might have come from anywhere; he talked so little that he was suspicious on that ground alone; and when he did speak, there was no accent at all that Sallie could lay hold of. Useful as he was just now in taking care of that poor young man up-stairs, he nevertheless inspired in her breast a most unholy irritation. Her att.i.tude was that of a housemaid pursuing the cat with the broom.

Mr. Hand was not greatly troubled by Sallie's tendency to sweep him out of the way, but whenever he took any notice of her he was more than a match for her. On the afternoon following Agatha's visit to Mrs.

Stoddard, he appeared to show some slight objection to being treated like the cat. He ate his luncheon in the kitchen--a large, delightful room--while Aleck Van Camp stayed with James. Hand was stirring broth over the stove, now and then giving a sharp eye to Sallie's preparation of her new mistress' luncheon.

"You haven't put any salt or pepper on mademoiselle's tray, Sallie,"

said he, as the maid was about to start up-stairs.

"_Miss_ Sallie, I should prefer, Mr. Hand," she requested in a mournful tone of resignation. "And Miss Redmond don't take any pepper on her aigs; I watched her yesterday."

"Well, she may want some to-day, just the same," insisted Mr. Hand in a lordly manner, putting a thin silver boat, filled with salt, and a cheap pink gla.s.s pepper-shaker side by side on the tray. Sallie brushed Hand away in disgust.

"That doesn't go with the best silver salt-cellar; that's the kitchen pepper. And, you can say _Miss_ Sallie, if you please."

"No, just Sallie, if _you_ please! I've taken a great fancy to you, Sallie, and I don't like to be so formal," argued Hand. "Besides, I like your name; and I'll carry the tray to the top of the stairs for you, if you'll be good."

"I wouldn't trouble you for the world, Mr. Hand," she tossed back.

"You'd stumble and break Parson Thayer's best china that I've washed for seventeen years and only broke the handle of one cup. She wouldn't drink her coffee this morning outer the second-best cups; went to the b.u.t.tery before breakfast and picked out wunner the best set, and poured herself a cup. She said it was inspiring, but I call it wasteful--and me with extra work all day!"

Sallie disappeared, leaving a dribbling trail of good-natured complaint behind her. Mr. Hand continued making broth--at which he was as expert as he was at the lever or the launch engine. He strained and seasoned, and regarded two floating islands of oily substance with disapproval.

While he was working Sallie joined him again at the stove, her important and injured manner all to the front.

"Says she'll take another aig," she explained. "Only took one yesterday, and then I had two all cooked."

"What did I tell you?" jeered Hand.

"You didn't tell me anything about aigs, not that I recollect," Sallie replied tartly.

"Well, the principle's the same," a.s.serted Hand. After a moment his countenance a.s.sumed a crafty and jocose expression, which would have put even Sallie on her guard if she had looked up in time to see it.

"You won't have so much extra work when mademoiselle's maid arrives,"

he said slyly. "_She'll_ wait on mademoiselle and attend to her tray when she wants one, and you won't have to do anything for mademoiselle at all."

Sallie became slowly transfixed in a spread-eagle att.i.tude, with the half of a thin white egg-sh.e.l.l held up in each hand.

"A maid! When's she coming?"

"Ought to be here now, she's had time enough. But women never can get round without wasting a lot of time." Sallie's glance must have brought him to his senses, for he added hastily, "City women, I mean."

"Hm! She won't touch Parson Thayer's china--not if I know myself!"

Sallie disappeared with Miss Redmond's second egg. When she returned, she delivered a message to the effect that Miss Redmond wished to see Mr. Hand when he had finished his luncheon. He was off instantly, calling, "Watch that broth, Sallie!"

It was a different Hand, however, who entered Miss Redmond's room a moment later. His half impudent manner changed to distant respect, tinged with a sort of personal adoration. Agatha felt it, though it was too intangible to be taken notice of, either for rebuke or reward.

Agatha was sitting in a rocking-chair by the window, sipping her tea out of the best tea-cup, her tray on a stand in front of her. She looked excited and flushed, but her eyes were tired.

"Can I do anything for you, Mademoiselle?" Hand inquired courteously.

"Yes, please," answered Agatha, and paused a moment, as if to recall her thoughts in order. Hand was very presentable, in negligee s.h.i.+rt which Sallie must have washed while he was asleep. He was one of those people who look best in their working or sporting clothes, ruddy, clean and strong. He would have dwindled absolutely into the commonplace in Sunday clothes, if he was ever so rash as to have any.

"I wish to talk with you a little," said Agatha. "We haven't had much opportunity of talking, so far; and perhaps it is time that we understand each other a little better."

"As mademoiselle wishes," conceded Hand.

"In the first place," Agatha went on, "I must tell you that Mrs.

Stoddard is coming to help nurse Mr. Hambleton. You have been very good to stay with us so long; and if you will stay on, I shall be glad.

But Doctor Thayer thinks you should have help, and so do I. Especially for the next few days."

"That is entirely agreeable to me, Mademoiselle."

"Will you tell me what--what remuneration you were receiving as chauffeur?"

"Pardon me, but that is unnecessary, Mademoiselle. If you will allow me to stay here, either taking care of Mr. Hambleton or in any outdoor work, for a week or as long as you may need me, I shall consider myself repaid."

Agatha was silent while she b.u.t.tered a last bit of toast. Hand's reticence and evident secretiveness were baffling. She had no intention of letting the point of wages go by in the way Hand indicated, but after deliberation she dropped it for the moment, in order to take up another matter.

"I was wondering," she began again, "how you happened to escape from the _Jeanne D'Arc_ alone in a rowboat, and what your connection with Monsieur Chatelard was. Will you tell me?"

A perfectly vacant look came into Hand's face. He might have been deaf and dumb.

At last Agatha began again. "I am grateful, exceedingly grateful, Mr.