wonderful news to keep silent about.”
“Why, no! What’s happened? I haven’t seen a soul for nearly a week till I went out this afternoon, and you were the only one today from our club.”
“Well, I surely am glad to be the first one to tell you,” said the older lady. “Mr. Stanwood is giving us a new clubhouse in memory of his wife, because she was the first president of the club, you know. She started it. You knew that, didn’t you?”
“Why, no, did she? That was before I moved to the city, you know,” said Mrs. Brent. “But she was still president when I first joined. I remember her. She was lovely, wasn’t she? And then she was ill a long time before she died, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, she was ill for a year, suffered terribly, and kept her part of the work going just as long as possible. She was wonderful! And it seems Mr. Stanwood has just heard that we have been talking about trying to enlarge our clubhouse, and he came forward yesterday just right out of the blue and offered to give us a new clubhouse, root and branch!”
“Wasn’t that wonderful!” exclaimed Mrs. Brent gushingly.
Thurlow Reed held his breath and listened.
“It certainly was! And it wasn’t just talk. He had some good suggestions to make. It seems he has felt for a long time that we needed a larger auditorium, and he suggested that we purchase one of the old residences on Regent Street”Thurlow Reed almost shouted aloud then, for Regent Street was where the Reeds lived“and use the residence for club rooms and so on,” went on the well-modulated voice of the white-haired lady, “and build the right kind of an auditorium in front of it”
“How ideal!” said Mrs. Brent. “Wouldn’t that Lockwood place be wonderful? It’s far enough back from the street to leave plenty of room for a good big auditorium with a terrace in front, which is all the lawn you would want in a clubhouse.”
“Exactly,” said the older woman complacently.” We thought of that at once, of course, being vacant as it is, and I called up the agent who has charge of it, but it seems it was willed to the daughters who live in California and they are not willing to sell. They want to keep the old homestead, as they expect to return someday and live there themselves. We even went to the extent of telegraphing, but their reply was quite decided. They wouldn’t sell at any price. In fact, they can’t till the younger daughter comes of age, which won’t be for two years yet, so that was final for us, of course. We want to get something right away.”
“Oh, Mrs. Steele, isn’t that too bad? That would have been ideal! But of course there are other pretty places right along there. There will surely be something on that block.”
“Not for sale, I’m afraid,” sighed Mrs. Steele, shaking her head. “We’ve gone over that whole block. The owners are all living in their homes, it seems, and one can’t just go and ring a doorbell and ask people if they won’t get out and sell you their home. Besides, one would have to pay more that way, and we can’t really pay much for the property, because that would take away too much from the auditorium building. The gift was”she lowered her voice and mentioned the sum given under her breath so that Thurlow couldn’t be sure of the exact sum, but he distinctly heard the next sentence“so that we could scarcely afford to pay more than twelve or fourteen thousand for the lot and whatever buildings it contained. We really ought not to pay more than twelve, of course, but we might stretch a point if it was in the right location. In fact, I think we would have given more for that Lockwood place if we could have gotten it. Its location is so central and so desirable.”
Thurlow sat there fairly weak with astonishment and fearsome delight. Was he in a dream, or was he hearing aright? The Lockwood place was just next door to their own. In many ways it was not as desirable as the Reed house. Could it be possible that a miracle like this had happened right at his side just when he was in despair?
And what should he do about it? Lean forward and snap it up at once? They were almost at the station now where he should get off. He did not know where this Mrs. Steele lived, though he could probably find out. But would it be wiser to wait till evening and go to her home? No. She might be going away somewhere or be having a dinner party. There might be a delay, and every minute now counted so desperately. Yet something fine and wise in him told him that in a matter of such great importance he must not act in a hasty, childish frenzy. He must go about it in a businesslike way. And it would not do to let her know he had overheard her conversation. It would prejudice her against him at once and might spoil the whole thing. He tried to be calm, to close his eyes and think. He remembered the figures he had heard the lady quote. It would not do to let her know that he knew what she was willing to pay. No, he must wait; even in his desperation he must be calm and take every step cautiously. He must try to follow her if possible, at least to see in which direction she went. Would she be the Mrs. George Steele of whom there was so much talk, the woman who was so philanthropic? Surely he had heard his mother speak of her.
Then, as if in answer to his thought, the lady spoke again.
“I am expecting the car to meet me at the station. Couldn’t I drop you somewhere on the way? I’m sorry I can’t take time to run in and see those etchings at Hatch’s you spoke of, but I promised George I’d be home early tonight. He has to leave on the six o’clock train for Chicago, and he’s as helpless as a child about getting his things together to pack. He likes me to do that for him, instead of a servant, so I like to humor him.”
She smiled at her friend as they rose and gathered up their belongings and the train drew to a full stop.
Thurlow had turned away, looking out the opposite window. Just as well she should not see his face and recognize him as one who might have overheard her talk. The two ladies drifted past him out the door without looking in his direction, and he came more slowly behind them, keeping them in sight without being seen himself, until they disappeared into a handsome limousine that stood waiting. Then he hurried into the drugstore and looked up Mr. George Steele’s address in the directory. Of course the telephone book might have given it, but so many of those rich people were listed privately that one couldn’t be sure of finding everybody there.
Having written the address down carefully, Thurlow went whistling home and entered the house with a happier look on his face than he had worn in many a day.
“You’ve had some good news!” cried his sister joyously.
He looked at her, sobering down.
“No, not exactly,” he said with a quick little sigh. “It might not turn out to be anything. I just had a hunch.”
“Oh,” said Rilla despondently. “Didn’t anything come of that post office affair?”
“Not a thing!” he said emphatically. “But don’t give up yet, Rill, we still have four days ahead.”
“What’s four days! Just like the four days that preceded. Wait and hope and find nothing. I’m going to get a job.”
“Hop to it, little sister. But don’t give up hope. You know jobs aren’t easy to get either!”
“I know!” Rilla sat down on the hall settee and sighed. “What are we going to do?”
“Something,” said her brother as he went up the stairs two steps at a time. “We still have four days.”
“And tomorrow there will be only three days.”
“Exactly so,” laughed her brother, swinging into his room and kicking off his worn shoes
