The Prodigal Girl

Front matter

GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL

Books By

GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL

Chapter II

Tue lovely little daughter pirouetted lightly on the lower step of the stair till the light over her head showed full upon her loveliness, accentuated here and there,—a touch of carmine on the pouting imperious little mouth; a soft blush on the cheek that he had always called her lovely complexion; a darkening of lash and brow; a shadow under the great blue eyes that somehow wore a dashing look of boldness and impertinence tonight that he had never seen before. It seemed that the hall light was cruel. Those overhead lights were always trying. When she got out to the table he would see her as she really was, and then this horrible fear that was gripping his heart now so that he could scarcely breathe, would leave him forever. Just let him get a good look into her dear eyes, and see her smile. He wished she wouldn’t call him Chester in that pert tone. It didn’t sound respectful. When she had first taken it up playfully it had been a joke, but tonight—Well,—to-night it hurt!

The spectre stepped nearer and gripped him by the throat. He must drive this awful thing away. He must get to the dining room quickly! Perhaps he was going to be sick! He must swallow a cup of coffee. That would make it all right of course. There was nothing in all this. Of course there was nothing at all—nothing at all!

Seated at the table he passed his hand over his eyes and looked about on them all, trying to focus his eyes on Betty’s petulant face. It was plain that Betty was displeased with him. Yet somehow her face did not look quite so disturbing here as it had under the weird light of the hall chandelier. It was better blended, less suggestive of paint and powder. Of course he was quite accustomed to the ever present powder puff that all girls nowadays played with in public, but it had never entered his head that his daughter wore anything like what people called “make-up.” That was low and common to his thinking, and quite unbecoming a girl of respectable family.

Chris broke in upon his thoughts with a sudden request for money.

The father tried to summon a natural voice:

“Why, Chris, you had your usual allowance and it is only ten days into the month. What do you want of more money?” he asked feeling that his voice sounded very far away and not at all decided. His mind really was on Betty.

But Chris seemed almost to resent his query:

“Well, I want it!” he said crisply, as if his father had no right to ask the question.

“What’s the matter with your allowance? You'll have to give an accounting. What have you done with it?”

““He-he-he’s lost it playin’ pool!” chimed in Johnny joyously with a grin of triumph toward his older brother.

“Shut up! You infant! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” said Chris angrily.

“TI do so! I was lookin’ in Shark’s window with Bill Lafferty when you lost. I heard Skinny Rector tell you he’s goin’ ta tell our dad if you didn’t pay up tanight—!”

Chris shoved his chair back noisily.

“Aw, bologny! Dad if you’re gonta listen to an infant I’m done! Keep yer money. There’s plenty of places I can get money if you won’t give me what I want! Other boys don’t get this kinda treatment in their homes— Wantta know every nosey little thing, and listen to a n’infant—!”

He had complained all the way through the hall in a loud voice and the front door slammed on his final word.

The family sat in a perturbed silence for an instant till the mother broke it in a worried voice that had a hidden sob in its texture.

“He hasn’t eaten a mouthful, Chester.”

“Well, what can you expect?” reproached Betty. “You tan’t treat a young man as if he was a three year old.

If Chester wants Chrissie to stay at home he’ll have to shell out a little more liberally from now on. Chrissie’s almost grown up, and isn’t allowed anything compared to other boys. Why, we’re the only two in our set that haven’t got cars to come to school with, and I think it’s scabby! I’m getting ashamed to go out of the house.”

“That'll be about all from you, Betty!” said her father in a cold voice that was so new to him that he felt frightened at it. Was he actually talking to his little Betty this way?

“On second thought, you needn’t go out any more until we’ve had a thorough understanding on this subject and a few others,” he added.

Betty stared at him in astonishment for an instant and then burst into a mocking laugh:

“Try and do it!” she sneered. “How do you get that way, Chet? It isn’t in the least agreeable.”

“Now Betty,” began her mother anxiously, “Don’t hurt your father. You know he didn’t mean—”

“He better not!” said Betty imperiously.

“We gotta boy in our school ut says ya don’t havta obey parunts,” broke forth ten year old John. “He says ‘What they gotta do about it?’ He says they ain’t got any more right ta say what ya shall do an’ what ya shan’t n’we have. He says we all got the same rights—”

“John, leave the room this minute!”’ said his father sternly.

Johnny looked up aghast his well loaded fork half way to his lips. He was not used to hearing his father speal: like that.

“Go!” said Thornton.

Johnny hastily enveloped the forkful.

“But I was just gonta tell you about the club we got. It’s called ‘Junior Radicals’ We—”

“Johnny, your mouth is too full to talk,” besought the distressed mother.

“Go!” there was something in his father’s voice that Johnny Thornton had never heard before. He made sure of another forkful of chicken stuffing and reached for a second hot biscuit as he rose reluctantly from his chair, but his father’s hand came out in a grip like a vise and rendered his small sinewy wrist utterly useless. The biscuit dropped from his nerveless fingers dully on the table cloth and Johnny Thornton walked hastily toward the door, a little faster than his feet could quite keep up, propelled by a power outside his own volition. He had never known his father could be so tall and strong.

“Great Cats!” remarked Betty contemptuously as the dining room door closed sharply. “Chester must be crazy! I never knew him to be so off his feed before! I’m going to pass out of the picture before anything more happens. Tra-la-Eleanor. I wish you joy! You better beat it yourself till the weather clears.”

“But Betty! Your father said—” began Mrs. Thornton.

But Betty was gone out through the kitchen and up the back stairs to her room. Her closing remark as she sped through the swing door into the pantry was:

“Applesauce!”

The door upstairs into Johnny’s room was heard to close firmly and a key to turn in the lock. Then Thornton’s steps came slowly, unsteadily down, almost haltingly, his wife thought. Could Chester have been drinking? But no, of course not. He hated the stuff. He never touched it. It must be business. She ought to have told Betty to be more considerate.

When he opened the dining room door again his face was white as a sheet and his eyes were staring ahead as if he saw a spectre. He marched sternly to his seat and sat down, but he made no attempt whatever to eat. Instead he looked around his depleted dinner table.

“Where is Betty?” he asked in a voice that was husky with feeling.

“Why, I think she’s gone up to her room, dear,” said his wife placatingly.

Thornton’s face did not relax, and Jane who had been biding her time silently, mindful of the fig pudding which was her favorite dessert, decided to leave while the going was good. But when she slid stealthily from her seat to go out her father’s voice recalled her.

“Sit down!” he said severely, ‘““And don’t leave the table until dinner is finished.”

Jane stuck up her chin indignantly:

“J was just going up to my room,” she said defiantly, “T’ve got some ’mportant studying to do.”

“Sit down!” thundered her father uncompromisingly.

Jane slid into her seat sullenly.

Mrs. Thornton looked at her husband almost tearfully and explained in a low voice to the sulky girl:

“Daddy comes home tired out and doesn’t want to be worried. He isn’t feeling well I’m sure. He wants it to be quiet and orderly and not everybody jumping up and running out—”

“He went out himself,” said Jane impertinently—

“Hush!” said the mother with a fearful glance at her husband. But little Doris diverted the attention suddenly. contributing her bit to the conversation, having been turning over her mind for a suitable topic ever since her brother’s summary exit. It seemed the dramatic moment for her to enter the limelight also.

“We got a new book in school to-day. Our teacher read it to us. It’s a story about a lady that lived in a tree and could do things with her toes just as well as with her hands. And bime by she got to be a real lady and came down outta the tree, and lived in a house. She was one of our Aunt’s sisters, the teacher said.”

“You mean ancestors,” corrected Jane coming out of her sulks with a giggle to correct the baby of the family.

“No, Aunt’s sisters!” insisted Doris. “She ’estinctly said Aunt’s sisters.”

“What does all this mean, Eleanor?” said Thornton looking at his wife. “Do you mean they are stuffing that kind of bosh down babies?—in school?”

“Tt’s her science class,” asserted Jane importantly,

“They’re just starting to learn about how the earth began, all gases and things you know, and how everything developed of itself, and then animals came, and some of ’em turned into men—. We had it all two years ago, but now they’re beginning it in First Grade.”

“What utter nonsense!” said Thornton angrily, “It’s all well enough for some highbrows to think they believe in evolution if they want to, but they have no right to stuff it down children’s throats, not my children anyway. And in the Public School. Eleanor haven’t you taught these children any of the Bible?”

“Why, of course, Chester,” quavered his wife soothingly, “They had all the Bible stories read to them. You know about Adam and Eve, darling. Why, Jane you got a prize once in Sunday School for telling the story of Creation. How can you let Daddy think that you don’t know—”

“Oh, of course I remember all that, Mud,” said the thirteen year old, “but that’s all out of date. Didn’t you know, simply nobody believes the Bible any more? My teacher said the other day, simply nobody that really knows anything believes it any more. She said there were some places in the New Testament that were true to history but the rest was all fanciful, kind of legends and things, especially all that about Adam and Eve. It was just like mythology you know. Didn’t you and Daddy know that? I suppose you haven’t been paying attention to what went on since you stopped school you know, but my teacher says almost nothing in the Bible is true any more. It isn’t scientific—! Why even the children in the Grammar School know that—!”

“That will do!” thundered Thornton furiously, “Eleanor, this is unspeakable! Why haven’t you known what kind of bosh our children were being taught? Where are the rest of them? I want to sift this matter out and know just where we stand! This is awfw/ Send for them all to come back! I want to see them right away.”

Mrs. Thornton looked distressed. She had been listening to Betty’s tiptoeing feet overhead and now she knew they had ceased. She was even sure she had heard the creak of the back stairs, and the opening of the kitchen door. Therefore she temporized.

“Suppose we go away from the table, anyway, Chester,” she suggested, “so that the maid can clear away. You’ve scarcely eaten a thing. Jane, you and Doris take your pudding up to the sitting room while your father finishes. He is all tired out and ought not to be disturbed while he eats. Take another cup of coffee, Chester, dear. Your nerves are all worn out. You must have had a hard day to-day. I’m afraid things haven’t gone as well as you hoped at the office. But never mind, dear! Don’t let it worry you. Whatever comes we’ve got each other. Remember that and be thankful.”

“Got each other!” exclaimed Chester strickenly, “But have we?”

“Of course we have,” cheered his wife. “Now dear, drink that hot coffee and you'll feel better. Come, and then we'll go into the library and you'll lie on the couch and tell me all about it. Then by and by when you are rested Pll call the children and you can talk to them, or perhaps tomorrow morning. You know you are in no frame of mind to talk calmly to them, and in the classes I’ve been attending about child training they say it is simply fatal to talk excitedly to a child, that it arouses antagonism, and that really is the worst thing we can do. You know really they are human beings like ourselves, and have to be given a chance to express themselves—They won’t stand for radical discipline such as you and I passed through. Really Chester, the children of to-day are quite quite different from a few years ago. You know things have changed, and young people have developed. There is a more independent attitude—”

“Stop!” cried Thornton, “Stop right there! Eleanor, if you have swallowed that rot whole and are going to take that attitude I shall go mad. Express themselves! I feel as if the whole universe was gone crazy.”

“But Chester, dear, you are overwrought—!”

“T should say I was overwrought. Eleanor you don’t know what you are talking about. Listen—! %

“Well, drink your coffee,” she said soothingly, “At least drink your coffee before I ring for Hetty, and then we'll go into the other room and you shall tell me everything. You poor dear, I’m afraid you are going to be sick!”

“J don’t want any coffee! I can’t eat! I tell you Eleanor, I must see the children! I must see Betty first! No, I can’t tell you anything till I have a talk with Betty. It is too dreadful! I want to understand the whole thing better before I tell you. Come, quick! Get Betty. I must see her at once.”

She tried to persuade him to lie on the couch and let her cover him up before she called her daughter. She poked the fire into a blaze and stalled for time by turning the hall light out so it would not shine in his eyes, but he pranced back and forth and refused to even sit down.

So at length she went upstairs to call Betty.

But Betty’s room was a whirlpool of garments, little silk dewdabs, trailing negligees, powder puffs, with an eddy of diminutive high-heeled slippers in one corner and a strapped pile of school books submerged in a chair under a torn evening frock. But no Betty!

It was as her mother had expected. Betty had made good her escape.

Mrs. Thornton passed through the confusion with deft hands, picking up and straightening as she went, hanging the flimsy little inadequate rags her daughter called clothing on the hooks in her closet, sweeping the clutter of ridiculous shoes into a quiet bag on the door, smoothing the bed, tidying the bureau. She stalled again for time. If only Chester would fall asleep he would be more reasonable. He would not blame the children. Something terrible must have happened in the business world that he should come home like this. He was usually so fond of the children, so interested in all that they had to tell about school life, so proud of Betty’s looks, and Jane’s music.

Probably the deal that he had hoped for so long had fallen through and she knew that that meant a great loss of money. But he would pull out of it. He always did. And he was yet a vigorous man, young for his years, and keen in business ability, beloved and respected. All would be right. All she had to do was to soothe him now for a little while. If he wouid only fall asleep—!

She heard his voice calling her impatiently:

“Where is Betty? Why doesn’t she come down at once?” ;

The mother hastened down with a placating air:

“Chester, I’m afraid she’s gone, but she ought to be back before very late. Suppose you just lie down here and tell me all about it. You know that always makes things better—”

But he interrupted her:

“Gone? Where is she gone!” There was alarm in his voice and in the startled eyes he turned on her.

“Why, you see Chester, she had an engagement this evening—”

“Yes, I believe she told me so,” he shouted, “but I told her at the table that she was to stay at home!”

“Hush, Chester, the maids will hear you! Let me explain. You see, Chester, she really couldn’t stay at home. It was an engagement of two weeks standing—She had promised!”

“Couldn’t!’’ he said, his voice still loud with alarm and excitement, “Couldn’t obey her father? Well, I’d like to know why not?”

“Why because there were other people involved. Chester you really didn’t give her any chance to explain you know, and it was getting late. You remember you kept us waiting for dinner—!”

“Involved? Who else was involved? Where has my daughter gone? I want to understand this thing perfectly. Where is Betty?”

“Why, Chester!” said his wife aghast. She had not seen her husband so roused in years. He must be losing his mind.

“Listen, dear, she has only gone to a little High School dance. She’ll probably be home before long now. They don’t usually stay very late.”

“But why should that be more important than obeying her father?”

“Because she had promised to go with one of the boys, one of her classmates, and she couldn’t leave him without a partner.”

He wheeled on her.

“Who has she gone with?”

“Why Chester, how strangely you act! Just one of the boys she has known all her life.”

“WHO?”

“Only Dudley Weston, our neighbor,” said the mother complacently, sure that the name would cool her husband’s heated temper. But his eyes fairly blazed.

“Dudley Weston!” he cried and his voice was like a moan. “That little viper!”

“Why, Chester! Now I’m sure you must have a fever or something. It is only yesterday you told me he was growing into a fine manly fellow, and said how handsome he was as he went down the street.”

The man groaned.

“Well, I don’t think so any more. Betty might as well have gone with the devil from hell.”

“Now, Chester, you are swearing! I never heard you swear before. Oh, what shall I do?”

But he paid no heed to her words. He was searching ce the hall table for his hat that had fallen on the

oor.

“Where is that dance?” asked Betty’s father.

“It is at the High School hall,” said Mrs. Thornton. ‘Oh, daddy! What are you going to do? You are not going after her? You are not going in public to mortify our daughter! Our little Betty! Oh, Chester! She will never forgive you! She won’t come! I’m sure she won’t come. She is very angry at you already. If you do a thing like that you will alienate her forever. Chester, you mustn’t |’?

She was crying now, great tears rolling down her cheeks, though she seemed unaware of them. She caught hold of his coat and held him with all her slender strength.

Something in her frail sweetness and agony touched him even in his wrought up state. He looked down at her, and for a moment his eyes softened with deep pity and tenderness.

“Listen, Eleanor, you don’t understand. You must trust me in this. I know what I’m about. And our Betty is in terrible danger. That boy is rotten! I heard him talking to-night in the train! About our Betty! Saying unspeakable, loathsome things about her! Oh, I would have saved you this if possible. He was boasting—I can’t tell you all, not now anyway, there isn’t time. I must get Betty before it is too late. Where is Jane? Call Jane. I want her to stay with you.—Jane!”’

He sprang up the stairs and flung her door wide, but there was no Jane there. He turned to his wife who had come stumbling up the stairs after him, the tears still flooding her face.

“Where is Jane?” he asked now with that strained white look about his eyes returning.

“She has just gone over to Emily Carter’s to study her lessons. She asked me if she might go. They often study together. She’ll be home by nine o’clock.”’

He glanced at his watch.

“Nine o’clock! Why, it’s past nine now! I’ll just step around and bring her back. I don’t like her running around the streets at this hour of the night even a block. She’s too young, and there are too many devils abroad. Besides, I want her to stay with you.”

Then with sudden tenderness he stooped and kissed her:

“Don’t cry, Eleanor. I didn’t mean to be harsh. But you didn’t understand. It was pretty bad, and shook me a good deal, but we'll pull out of this somehow.”

Then he was gone out into the night leaving his wife with the worst alarm in her heart she had had in all the years of her married life. What would Betty do now? And what might not Chester do, when he found that Betty would not obey him in public? She recalled all the recent lectures on Child Training and sat weakly down on the lower step of the stairs and wept again.

Then out from the little front room near the linen closet at the end of the hall where Johnny had his haunts there arose a raucous voice singing from Johnny’s radio:

“Tm a little boy,—!

And I love a little girl!”

And the mother on the stairs wept and wondered what the child trainer would tell her to do under the circumstances.

Chapter III

THE Carters lived half way down the next block.

Thornton reflected that he had better take the car tw save time. He could explain to Jane on the way home that her mother was feeling worried about something and he wanted her to stay up with her till he returned. Then he could drop her at the door and drive right on to the High School.

But when he stopped at the Carter’s door he was surprised to find the house all dark, both upstairs and down. Probably the children were up in some back sitting room studying, or in Emily’s bedroom. He frowned anxiously as he rang the bell, and waited impatiently. It seemed terrible to think that Betty had gone off with that unspeakable boy! And how was he to go about it to explain to her? He would probably have to let her mother do it. It would be such a humiliation for his delicate minded Betty to hear the foul words that had been used about her. Perhaps a hint from her mother would be sufficient without having to humble her by having her father tell his awful experience. That would have to be her mother’s part. His was to deal with the lad.

He brought his mind back from his unhappy reflections to ring the door bell again. Surely these people had not retired at half past nine! And if so what had become of Jane?

He rang a third time, this time prolonging the pressure until he could hear the distant whirr of the bell from the front steps.

A window was pushed up slowly above his head, and an African voice called casually.

“Who down dar? What you-all want? Ain’t nobuddy hum ’cept jes me an the baby.”

“Y’m Mr. Thornton,” explained Chester, “I’ve come for my daughter Jane. Won’t you tell her to come right down? I’m ina hurry.”

“Her ain’t hyear no moh! Her ’n’ Em’ly went out som’ers. Said they wuz goin’ down t’ the drug sto’ at the cohneh fer a soda. Reckum they’ll return d’reckly. But you cawn’t nevvah tell. Mistah Cahteh an’ his wife don’ gon’ ta town ta the ¢/ee-a-tre, an’ Em’ly she gene’lly does as she please when dey out. I can’t be bothahd! You jes’ try the drug sto’ ef yoh wants yoh gal in a hurry. Mebbe yoh find her! I gotta go back. The baby’s cryin’!”

The window went down with a slam.

A sudden sense of fury descended upon Chester Thornton. Why did all these things have to happen to him at once! Just when things were looking up and everything was hopeful! Here was life in a terrible mess! Little Jane too! Just a baby! Wandering around the streets at night with another child. He never did like those Carters. They were common! Common! That’s what they were! Or the girl would know better than to take another child out alone at night—

He climbed wrathfully into the car and stepped furiously on the gas, startling a furtive cat into a streak of - shadow.

Now, where should he look for Jane in case she was not in the drug store? But perhaps Jane had already gone home. Yes, of course, that was it. Jane wouldn't go to corner drug stores alone at night. Jane knew she was to go home. That was the explanation. She had been told to return at nine o’clock. She was not common herself, even if she did like to go sometimes with a common child. Probably it was not in the least necessary for him to hunt further; of course she had gone home and he had missed her in the dark. Nevertheless, now he was here he would make sure.

He parked his car hastily in front of the brightly lighted store, and leaving the engine going he sprang out to look in the window.

There was a crowd in the drug store. The soda fountain was always popular of course at this hour of the evening, even in winter. The near-by College and Prep school supplied a continuous flow of patrons.

Thornton stopped at the window, lowered his head to look under a pasteboard image of a bold miss advertising a new brand of cigarettes, but the crowd inside the window was too clese for him to get a good survey of the entire store. He went up the steps and flung open the door, and just as he did so the crowd parted to let out an elderly woman with a large bottle and an anxious air of haste. For an instant Thornton got a glimpse of an open space beyond the crowd, and a young delicate little face strangely familiar, whirling giddily before a circle of admiring spectators.

Almost instantly the crowd closed up again, and a noisy cheer followed. Several rough young voices called out familiarly:

“Go to it, Kid!”

“Give us another of those high kicks, Jane!”

With strange premonition Thornton pushed aside the crowd of college fellows that stood in his way and brought himself inside the circle of onlookers, unmindful of the resistance of the youths who blocked his way.

“Say, what’s your haste, old gent!” one flung up at him as he elbowed his way to the front.

And there was Jane, his little child Jane, with her brief kilted skirt tucked up like a ballet girl, her delicate features aflame with excitement, a bold abandoned challenge in her big blue eyes, her close cropped dark curls quivering, her bare childish knees above their rolled down stockings flashing white against the dark background of the mahogany show case. Jane, dancing in solo, to the clamor of a jazzy radio in some unseen depth of the store’s recesses. Jane, dancing for the amusement of a score of lustful-eyed youths who watched her all agog, and cheered her on with none too delicate phraseology. Seemingly regardless she danced on light as thistle down, yet vulgarly suggestive in a dance that might have had its origin in the slums.

As her father entered upon the scene Jane was in the midst of an intricate whirl of arms and legs, white knees all mixed up with rippling skirts and flying arms, white hands fluttering, one dark lock of hair longer than the rest, waving like a crest over the pretty forehead. Her vivid little face with its forward impudent smile flashed back and forth so rapidly that for an instant Thornton did not know his own child. Then, as the shaft of bitter assurance entered his soul she finished with several high kicks and a lazily graceful hand-spring, coming upright with shining eyes and glowing cheeks, and a little saucy tilt of triumph, openly aware of the admiration of her audience.

The irreverent onlookers broke forth into coarse jest and cheer once more; raised neglected cigarettes and quickly wove a blue haze of smoke about their favorite; gathered closer about her, reaching for her with bold intimate hands.

Suddenly they fell back and a hush came over them all. Jane had seen her father!