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Road to Understanding, The

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<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> <h3>"THE PLOT THICKENS"</h3> It was shortly before Christmas that Frank Gleason ran up to Dalton. He went first to see Burke Denby. Burke greeted him with hearty cordiality. "Hullo, Gleason! Good—you're just in time for dinner. But where's your bag? You aren't going back to-night!" "No, but I am to-morrow morning, very early, so I left my grip at the hotel. Yes, yes, I know—you'd have had me here, and routed the whole house up at midnight," he went on laughingly, shaking his head at Burke's prompt remonstrations, "if I but said the word. But I'm not going to trouble you this time. I'll be delighted to stay to dinner, however,—if I get an invitation," he smiled. "An invitation! As if you needed an invitation for—anything, in this house," scoffed Denby. "All mine is thine, as you know very well." "Thanks. I've half a mind to put you to the test—say with that pet thumb-marked tablet of yours," retorted the doctor, with a lift of his eyebrows. "However, we'll let it go at a dinner this time.—You're looking better, old man," he said some time later, as they sat at the table, his eyes critically bent on the other's face. "I am better." "Glad to hear it. How's business?" "Very good—that is, it was good. I haven't been near the Works for a week." "So? Not—sick?" "Oh, no; busy." There was the briefest of pauses; then, with disconcerting abruptness, came the question: "Where'd you get that girl, Gleason?" "G-girl?" The doctor wanted a minute to think. Incidentally he was trying to swallow his heart—he thought it must be his heart—that big lump in his throat. "Miss Darling." "Miss Darling! Oh!" The doctor waved his hand inconsequently. He still wanted time. He was still swallowing at that lump. "Why, she—she—I told you. She's the daughter of an old friend. Why, isn't she all right?" He feigned the deepest concern. "All right!" Voice and manner carried a message of satisfaction that was unmistakable. But the doctor chose to ignore it. The doctor felt himself now on sure ground. He summoned a still deeper concern to his countenance. "Why, Denby, you don't mean she isn't all right? What's the trouble? Isn't she capable?—or don't you like her ways?" "But I mean she is all right, man," retorted the other impatiently. "Why, Gleason, she's a wonder!" Gleason, within whom the Hallelujah Chorus had become such a shout of triumph that he half expected to see Burke Denby cover his ears, managed to utter a cool— "Really? Well, I'm glad, I'm sure." "Well, she is. She's no ordinary girl." ("If Helen could but hear that!" exulted the doctor to himself.) "Why, what do you think? She can actually tell me some things about my own curios!" "Then they are more than—er—potatoes to her? You know you said—" "Yes, I know I did. But just hear this. In spite of her seeming intelligence and capability, I'd been dreading to open those cabinets and let her touch those things dad and I had spent so many dear years together gathering. But, of course, I knew that that was silly. One of my chief reasons for getting her was the cataloguing; and it was absurd not to set her at it. So one day, after everything else was done, I explained what I wanted, and told her to go ahead." "Well, and—did she?" prompted the doctor, as the other paused. "She did—exactly that. She went ahead—'way ahead of what I'd told her to do. Why, when I got home, I was amazed to see what she'd done. But best of all was her interest and her enthusiasm, and the fact that she knew and appreciated what they were. You see that's one of the things I'd been dreading—her ignorance—her indifference; but I dreaded more that she might gush and say, 'Oh, how pretty!' And I knew if she did I'd—I'd want to knock her down." "So glad—she didn't!" murmured the doctor. His host laughed shamefacedly. "Oh, yes, I know. That was rather a strong statement. But you see I felt strongly. And then to find— But, Gleason, she really is a wonder. We're working together now— I'm working. As I said, I haven't been to the office for a week." "Is she agreeable—personally?" "Yes, very. She's pleasant and cheerful, bright, and very much of a lady. She's capable, and has uncommon good sense. Her voice, too, is excellent for reading. In short, she is, as I told you, a wonder; and I'm more than indebted to you for finding her. Let's see, you say you do know her family?" Gleason got suddenly to his feet. "Yes, oh, yes. Good family, too! Now I'm sorry to eat and run, as the children say, but I'll have to, Burke, to-night. One or two other little matters I'll have to attend to before I sleep. But, as I said a few minutes ago, I'm glad to see you in better spirits. Keep on with the good work." The doctor seemed nervous, and anxious to get away; and in another minute the great outer door had closed behind him. "Hm-m! Wonder what's his rush," puzzled Burke Denby, left standing in the hall. There was a slight frown on his face. But in another minute it was gone: he had remembered suddenly that he had promised Miss Darling that he would try to find certain obscure data regarding the tablet they had been at work upon that afternoon. It was just as well, perhaps, after all, that the doctor had had to leave early—it would give more time for work. With an eager lifting of his head Burke Denby turned and strode into the library. Meanwhile, hurrying away from Denby House was the doctor, his whole self a Hallelujah Chorus of rejoicing. His countenance was still aglow with joy when, a little later, he rang the bell of a West Hill apartment-house suite bearing the name, "Mrs. Helen Darling." To his joy he found Helen alone; but hardly had he given her a hasty account of his visit to Burke Denby, and assured her that he was positive everything was working out finely, when Betty came in from the corner grocery store, breezy and smiling. "Oh, it's Dr. Gleason!" she welcomed him. "Now, I'm glad mother didn't go with me to-night, after all,—for we'd both been out then, and we shouldn't have seen you." "Which would have been my great loss," bowed the man gallantly, his approving eyes on Betty's glowing face. "Oh, but ours, too,—especially mine," she declared. "You see, I've been wishing you'd come. I wanted to thank you." "To thank me?" "Yes; for finding this lovely place for me." "You like it, then?" "I love it. Why, Dr. Gleason, you have no idea of the wonderful things that man— But you said you knew him," she broke off suddenly. "Don't you know him?" "Oh, yes, very well." "Then you've been there, of course." "Many times." "Oh, how silly of me!" she laughed. "As if I could tell you anything about antiques and curios! But hasn't he some beautiful things?" "He has, indeed. But how about the man? You haven't told me at all how you like Mr. Denby himself." Betty glanced at her mother with a roguish shrug. "Well, as I tell mother, now that I've got him trained, he does very well." "My dear!" murmured her mother. "Trained?" The question was the doctor's. "Yes. You see at first he was such a bear." "Oh, Betty!" exclaimed her mother, in very genuine distress. But Betty plainly was in one of her most mischievous moods. With another merry glance at her mother she turned to the doctor. "It's only this, doctor. You see, at first he was so silent and solemn, and Benton and Sarah and Mrs. Gowing were so scared, and the whole house was so scared and silent and solemn, that it seemed some days as if I should scream, just to make a little excitement. But it's all very different now. Benton and Sarah are all smiles, Mrs. Gowing actually laughs sometimes, and the only trouble is there isn't time enough for Mr. Denby to get in all the talking he wants to." "Then Mr. Denby seems happier?" "Oh, very much. Of course, at first it was just about the work—we're cataloguing the curios; but lately it's been in other ways. Why, the other day he found I could play and sing a little, and to-day he asked me to sing for him. And I did." Helen sat suddenly erect in her chair. "Sing? You sang for Mr. Denby?" she cried, plainly very much agitated. "But you hadn't told me—that!" "I hadn't done it till this afternoon, just before I came home," laughed Betty. "But what did you sing? Oh, you—you didn't sing any of those foolish, nonsensical songs, did you?" implored Helen, half rising from her chair. "But I did," bridled Betty. Then, as her mother fell back dismayed, she cried: "Did you suppose I'd risk singing solemn things to a man who had just learned to laugh?" "But, ragtime!" moaned Helen, "when he's always hated it so!" "'Always hated it so'!" echoed Betty, with puzzled eyes. "Why, I hadn't played it before, dearie. I hadn't played anything!" "No, no, I—I mean always hated everything gay and lively like ragtime," corrected Helen, her cheeks abnormally pink, as she carefully avoided the doctor's eyes. "Why didn't you play some of your good music, dear?" "Oh, I did, afterwards, of course,—MacDowell and Schubert, and that lullaby we love. But he liked the ragtime, too, all right. I know he did. Besides, it just did me good to liven up the old house a bit. I know Benton was listening in the hall, and I'm positive Sarah and the cook had the dining-room door open. As for Mrs. Gowing, she—dear old soul—just sat and frankly cried. And the merrier I sang, the faster the tears rolled down her face—but it was for joy. I could see that. And once I heard her mutter: 'To think that ever again I should hear music and laughter—here!' Dr. Gleason, did Mr. Denby ever love somebody once, and do I look like her?" Taken utterly by surprise, the doctor, for one awful minute, floundered in appalled confusion. It was Helen this time who came to the rescue. "I shall tell the doctor he needn't answer that question, Betty," she said, with just a shade of reproval in her voice. "If he did know of such a thing, do you think he ought to tell you, or anybody else?" Betty laughed and colored a little. "No, dear, of course not. And I shouldn't have asked it, should I?" "But what makes you think he has?" queried the doctor, with very much the air of a small boy who is longing yet fearing to investigate the reason for the non-explosion of a firecracker. "Because he said twice that I reminded him of some one, particularly with my hat on; and both times, afterward, he looked so romantic and solemn"—Betty's eyes began to twinkle—"that I thought maybe I was on the track of a real, live love-story, you see. But he hasn't said anything about it lately; so perhaps I was mistaken, after all. You see, really, he's quite like folks, now, since we've been working on the curios." "And how are you getting along with those?" "Very well, only it's slow, of course. There is such a mass of material, and so much to look up and study up besides. We're just getting it together and tabulating it now on temporary sheets. We shan't begin the real cataloguing on the final cards until we have all our material in hand, Mr. Denby says." "But you aren't getting tired of it?" "Not a bit! I love it—even the digging after dates. I'm sure you can understand that," she smiled. "Yes, I can understand that," he smiled back at her. And now, for the first time for long minutes, he dared to look across the room into Helen Denby's eyes. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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