Caddie Takes a Risk

Caddie Takes a Risk By Ida Stewart Peay It was cold even in the enclosed back landing where the women were congre- gated; outside the chilly winds of Decem- ber moaned dismally. "I intend to move at once," pronounced thin-lipped Mrs. Vane of the lower west apartment. There was a baneful finality in her tone which sent a shiver through at least one of her hearers. "I shan't be imposed upon in any such way." Her brown eyes snapped her indigation as maintaining her prideful posture she pressed an intruding wrinkle from her spot- less house dress and smoothed the black mass of her straight bob vigorously. "I shall move, also; I think it's just too bad," said young Mrs. Tolman of the down-stair, east apartment. She seemed very much annoyed, too, though her lips were full of curving and the joy in her eyes was undimned. A morning negligee of blue silk brought out the gold in her fluffy hair; its scant material revealed her girlish slimness. She had been engaged in polishing her finger nails when called out to the back landing, now, with the ivory buffer still in her hand, she gave her nails a stroke or two at intervals. "What are you going to do Caddie?" she said. Thus addressed the third member of this impromptu conference gave a start. It was she who had shivered at Mrs. Vane's dictum; it had plunged her into a mood of perplexed speculation. Caddie oc- cupied the east side of the upper floor; she was just Caddie, Caddie V, to every- body. Her lips were a soft lavender-pink; they easily widened into a smile and when they did a spontaneous, gleeful twinkle appeared in her blue eyes which was both intimate and understanding. Her youthful chuckle, always infectious, belied her grey- ing hair. She never seemed to be aware of her appearance; it was as if after dressing her ample body cleanly and comfortably in the morning she set out upon her day's affairs in the spirit entirely forgetful of the material part of herself. It left her free to think of others, to plan for them, to figure out the spiritual values' of life's episodes. "I — I hardly know," she hesi- tated in answer to her neighbor's query, slightly confused and sober — for her. The irrepressible smile that twitched at her lavender lips was not allowed to appear. Her neighbors were in no mood for the non-sensical and playfully satirical reply that flashed into her mind along with her alarm — which was to the effect that she would repair at once to the Ritz-Carlton. Aloud she finished: "Mother will be up- set, no doubt." "My husband will simply leave home," shrugged Mrs. Vane tightening her lips and giving each word an especial emphasis: "and Elva and Gale will be scandalized." "Jack won't stand it for a moment, that I know," echoed Mrs. Tolman. "Such a ragamuffin outfit! And a regular army, too — " "Sh — , here they come, now," from Caddie. The three women were instantly dumb; they moved apart guiltily. Each fumbled in her mind to produce a common place remark which uttered loudly might take the embarrassing inference out of their sudden silence. Mrs. Vane was the first to get hold of her wits. "Miz Tolman, do you mind if I set this sack of cans on your side of the path for today while I'm cleaning — it's so in the way here by my door?" she asked in a voluminous voice. "Why, certainly not; it won't bother me in the least — not at all," the young Mrs. Tolman took her cue like a foot- lights veteran and said her line slowly, resonantly while she and the other pro- testor, and Caddie V watched the new tenants file up the back stairs — the loaf of bread and half-filled paper sacks the tenants were carrying indicating that they had been to the corner grocery. The man went first shuffling uneasily,

128 IMPROVEMENT ERA his head lowered, his hat pulled down, a heavy scowl on his face. He was a thin sort of a person in an ill fitting, soiled, cheap suit. Behind him trailed four chil- dren in the order of their size. There was a boy perhaps ten years of age who had defiant blue eyes and curly blond hair; he slouched alone unconsciously imitating his father. His shoes were much too worn and much too damp to encourage a pur- poseful step, but there was a twitch of disdainful pride in his shoulders as he passed the firing squad of women ranged at the back door; he resented evidently their only half-camouflaged survey. Next to him came a girl probably eight years old, closely followed by one not more than six; both were pinched and grim- looking, blue with cold, and not dressed anywhere near in keeping with the weather. They dropped their dark heads under the inspection of their neighbors as their father had done. Lagging behind was a baby boy who had scarcely touched his fourth mile stone. Like his brother he was fair; there was the same hint of high spirit in his wide open eyes. An undried tear clung to his cheek upon which the pink of babyhood vied with the blue of cold. His smooth lips surprised in a cry of discomfort remained apart in an absent-minded pout as only half won from his little troubles he glimpsed the vexed women and with the others sensed their disapproval. When his short legs had achieved painfully the last step of the staircase he flung back a reproachful glance before the small procession, vanished around the railing of the upper landing. "Ye gods, they grade up like steps! Doesn't look like there was a year be- tween them." moaned the outraged Mrs. Vane. "It's just an awful pity," sighed Mrs. Tolman. "They looked starved and frozen, too," said Carrie V. with a worry wrinkle be- tween her brows; "I wonder if they have a fire up there? I haven't seen any extra wood or coal come; I'd better slip up and offer to lend them some." "But where is the woman?" Mrs. Vane asked. "She seemed to be the whole show when she got them settled here last night. Oh, dear, so important! She'd probably never been in an apartment house nearly so nice as this but she was trying to pre- tend she had. Their effects were a bat- tered old trunk and a roll of ragged bedding." "I don't see why our landlord had to fix up a one-room apartment; he might know only scum would take one room," grumbled Mrs. Tolman mildly. "It's a large room," suggested Caddie V. a trifle fidgety, apprehension in her usually merry eyes. "But why didn't he leave it a trap- room as it was?" Mrs. Vane protested. "We need it for odds and ends. Who- ever heard of a man and a woman and four children occupying one room!" "I suppose it has been done in a pinch," giggled Caddie V., trying to throw some lightness into the discussion. No one could resist Caddie Vs. little hints of humor; Mrs. Vane was forced to smile half heartedly. "Of course, in the slums, but I mean among civilized folks." "I suppose the landlord thought he had to have something more coming in," sug- gested Mrs. Tolman with a harmless sneer on her pretty mouth. "He'll have enough 'coming in' — and trapesing up those stairs, now, I'd im- agine." slurred Mrs. Vane laughing a little with the other women at her pun. "I hope he happens along and sees them 'coming in' some day. They'll do more damage than the rent will pay for. It would serve him right if they broke through the stairs — foisting them on us in this way." "He didn't put them in — guess I'll have to 'fess up' — it was I," Caddied V. snick- ered infectiously, the twinkle was in her eyes; "take it out on me," she rounded her shoulders so comically her neighbors began to laugh. They lunged toward her in pre- tended anger while she slyly dodged. "You see, it was this way," Caddie affected her habitually jocular manner but she stammered a little; "when — when the woman came last night she said she had arranged with Mr. Lander to take the house and was to pay me; when I called

CADDIE TAKES A RISK 129 him up this morning he said she hadn't seen him. I told him she'd paid a month in advance, so he said for me to let her stay." "The old Shylock to inflict us for that paltry ten dollars! Well, he can't put any- thing over on me — why, people will think this is a slum district;" it was Mrs. Vane speaking; "when Jim comes off his run we'll move." "And I'll tell Jack this very night," vowed Mrs. Tolman. "Let's you and I go house hunting to- morrow," Mrs. Vane suggested to Mrs. Tolman. "All right." Mrs. Tolman agreed. "What time?" "About three-thirty." "You won't move until after Christmas, will you? It's less than a week," remon- strated Caddie V. "You bet your life I'll move," Mrs. Vane was inelegantly vehement. "I wouldn't spend Christmas here for worlds — it would be spoiled! If Lander doesn't put them out tomorrow, out I go." "That's my baby waking," cried Mrs. Tolman speeding away as she heard the sleepy wail of a rousing child. "I must run, too, my bread is in the oven, and maybe burning," said Mrs. Vane likewise vanishing into her apartment. Caddie V. put her hand over her chin as she always did when disturbed and slowly climbed the stairs. There was ample reason for her perturbation. Her conscience pricked her because she had not told her neighbors the whole truth about the entrance of this disturbing element into Rose Terrace. Bah; she was not under oath — she consoled herself; only fools tell everything they know. Besides, how could anyone make a woman like Mrs. Vane understand. That an emotion of compassion could intoxicate a person to the point of taking unwarranted privi- leges could never be made clear to Mrs. Vane. Indeed, if Caddie had revealed the telephone conversation she had with the landlord in its entirety, she reflected, her case would have been lost on the start. As it was she harbored a wild hope that some- thing would happen to help her. She wanted more than anything to shelter these bedraggled wayfarers at least until after Christmas. She had a little fight in her, she bragged to herself. Wasn't she a Lee? But, of course, orders were orders. The landlord had been explicit. If the worst came to the worst the wanderers must go. Shrugging her shoulders, Caddie threw the matter figuratively upon the lap of the gods. She would take no steps at present; she hadn't the heart to do so. "There is a destiny that shapes our ends — " she quoted philosophically to herself and went about her business providing wood and coal to warm the new tenants. "Thought maybe you'd like to borrow some fuel until your's comes," she said, sticking her head in at the trap-room door and grinning in neighborly familiarity as she deposited two buckets full on the floor; "we've plenty and your's may be late coming." She closed the door quickly, not willing to notice the uncleanliness that already pervaded the room she had only yesterday surreptiously cleaned and fur- nished. Yes, swiftly, twenty-four hours earlier, when the woman had appealed to her for "even a tiny spot in the attic" Caddie had thought of the trap-room, had figured to herself that she could spare her sanitary couch and some chairs, had remembered that there was a discarded, rusty cook stove, a set of shelves, and a rickety bed- stead in the basement, and had said in sheer pity: "We might be able to house you for a time." Encouraged no doubt by the kindly lines about Caddie's mouth the woman had confided that she was "clear desperate;" that she had tried every place advertised for rent in the city and could not get in anywhere on account of the children and her inability to pay more than ten dollars; that her children — four of them — were waiting in the railroad station even now. "If we could only stay until after Christ- mas— " she had pleaded. Hence while her neighbors were shopping Caddie had quietly, but fearfully cleaned and fur- nished the room and let the stragglers in. She had expected to be able to explain to the .other tenants — to work upon their

130 IMPROVEMENT ERA sympathies, perhaps: but, alas, Mrs. Vane's wrath and indignation had dried the fount of Caddie's mentally planned eloquence before it had started to flow. And now Caddie (as she termed herself) was flabbergasted. Four days elapsed; the status quo of Rose Terrace remained unchanged. The small, but rather pretentious clinker brick apartment house gave no sign on its brightly painted ornate front of the out- ward onslaught of December's blizzards or of the inward attack on its respectabality. Neither Mrs. Vane nor Mrs. Tolman had moved. The family ensconced in the one room apartment on the west side of the upper floor was still toiling up and down the stairs at all times of the day and night. Caddie's mother was becoming more fretful each hour declaring that she would not much longer endure the racket. Mrs. Vane had spluttered, fumed, raged, used every expletive of anger and disgust she could recall and then repeated herself until the uselessness of it all had set her lips in a thin line leaving her speechless with impotence — a travesty on the lovely quality of forbearance. Mrs. Tolman had echoed the storm with her usual amity and forced vehemence. And all the while Caddie V. had tremblingly waited — like Mecawber — for something favorable to her scheme to turn up. The reason Mrs. Vane had not shaken the snow of Rose Terrace from her feet was that Mr. Vane had taken over a four- day run of a fellow railroader who was ill. Mrs. Tolman's lover-husband — as the luck of the intruders upstairs would have it — was sent away to open a new territory for his firm. The landlord was out of town, also, no doubt for the sole purpose of evading his tenants; he must have guessed that Caddie's scheme for housing some of the mid-winter riff-raff, and incidentally adding to his coffers, would not be ac- ceptable to them. Then to multiply coincidences the mother of the unwelcome brood of the upper floor (for whom Mrs. Vane had saved the bulk of her wrath, slyly presuming that she could force the woman out by a strong current of con- tempt) had not been seen since the night she dumped her piccaninnies on the unap- preciative neighborhood. Sunday, however, everything was pro- pitious for a climax. Mr. Vane and Mr. Tolman were in their respective apart- ments, the landlord had ventured to be "at home," and the vanished lady had been seen late the night before mounting the stairs to her percarious shelter. Also, during the latter part of the four- day typhoon a mystery had developed around the invaders, which had proved a slight solace. The last two nights the man from upstairs had been heard leaving the house at three o'clock in the morning; and Mrs. Vane who had been the fortunate detective had actually seen him return at the early hour of four. "I'll bet they're bootleggers; if they are that rogue shall not escape me, I'll lie awake all night but that I'll catch him," Mrs. Vane told her tardy protector the moment he returned. Late Sunday afternoon the two families from down stairs went up to Caddie Vs. cozy living room; they surprised and chilled Caddie to the heart with their first words. "Well, we've come to say good-bye; we're going in the morning." Mrs. Vane said with great satisfaction. "There are two empty apartments in the 'Venice' which we can get. Mrs. Tolman and I have had enough of this!" Caddie V. began to flutter inwardly. Dear, dear, the evil hour had arrived! Nothing had saved her — nothing would. "The landlord will put them out as soon as he finds that you have gone," she pro- tested hardly knowing what she was saying and not wishing to say that at all. "It will serve them all right — Lander and those imposters, too," scored Mrs. Vane. "It's so near to Christmas — it's so ter- ribly cold — the snow is so deep," deplored Caddie V., breathlessly trying to think. "It's no bother for us to move; we keep in readiness — every thing is fur- nished in the Venice, you know. We'll just call a van for our trunks and a taxi for ourselves," declared determined Mrs. Vane.

CADDIE TAKES A RISK 151 Caddie turned inquiring eyes to Mr. Vane. "Anything that pleases the Mrs. is O. K. with me," he grinned unconcernedly. Up until that moment Caddie had not despaired but now all hope receded, after all she would have to put these wandering children out in the street. Her unsatisfied mother-heart yearned over the little crea- tures. Time and again the baby had brushed against her skirt, unconsciously courting a caress and she had patted his blond head tenderly; the older boy had followed her with wistful, hungry eyes; the little girls had lingered near her as long as they dared whenever she had spoken to them; she had seen something lovable in each one. How could she drive them out two days before Christmas? To be sure the house did not belong to her, and orders were orders. When she told the landlord what she had done he had said: "Put them out at once if the down stairs ten- ants are dissatisfied; can't have those two apartments vacant in the middle of the winter." Caddie knew that she must now confess her duplicity and tell the Vanes and Tolmans they need not go. She opened her mouth to speak but just then the door to the trap-room, which was next to Caddie's, was suddenly opened and the party in Caddie's room could not help hearing what went on in there for the moment or two in which alarm and some indefinite sense of ill-being held them speechless. "Hello." a woman's voice exclaimed, sharply. The man growled; the children all be- gan talking at once. "Mama, what'd you — Mama, say Mama, whan — ." Finally the woman's voice rose above the general murmur. "Don't make so much noise. Can't you remember what a time I had gettin' a place for you to stay? I had to lie to get in here; nobody wants a bunch of kids. Now be still or they'll put you out. Mary, what are you crying about?" Mary's reply was too low to be heard; the wom- an's voice continued; "Hungry! Good land. Hen. ain't these kids had no supper? It seems like all I hear when I get home is that they're hungry. Every mouthful I eat up there pritty near sticks in my throat when I think of these younguns down here. — I brought a few cakes — here kids." There was a suppressed sound of pleas- ure. "Um, um." "Don't I git none?" This in a grumbling tone from the man. "I only brought four." "Dad had un," the baby protested wbiningly. "Dry up." "What does he mean?" "He's a bawl-baby." "Did you git a cake and not give tht baby one?" The woman seemed deeply shocked and sorrowful. The baby began to tell something in a loud voice. "Dry up, will you?" "Hen, you let that kid be; he's only a baby. Ain't you got no patience? My God! I wonder if there was ever any kids that has it as bad as mine? A man ain't got no business taking care of kids — he ain't got no patience." "They're the meanest little imps," the man grumbled. "They ain't neither; they're good kids," defensively. "Yes. Mary's a good one, ain't she? She is alius tellin' somethin'." "She ain't neither; she only said she was hungry. What did you give 'em for supper?" "They each had a hunk of bread — all they was. How fur do you think a dollar and a half goes?" "Course. I had to pay the rent, this week, and that dollar and a half was every cent I had left. Then I bet you went and bought your old coffee out of that. What these kids need is milk." "Milk! Can't drink milk; it's like drinkin' gold; gotta get coal out of next week's pay; can't borry of this lady for- ever." "Gee. I'll be glad when you get work again." "You know they ain't nothin' for a day laborer this time of year — and I ain't well yet. neither. They ain't a heart in no- body these days. Everybody's stuffed up

132 IMPROVEMENT ERA to iheir palates till they ain't got no pity; they'd see kids starve before they'd lift a hand." "No, folks ain't that bad, Hen. Peo- ple is pretty good hearted when they know how things are. But who wants to go around asking charity? I don't. Well, we're wastin' time. I better clean this room up a little — gotta be back 'fore seven. But if you'll come for me again at twelve — they'll be home then — I'll come back and finish Sadie's dress. You'll have to take me back at two, tonight, I ain't been gettin' enough sleep — it's a good thing my room's in the basement." "Are you comin' home for Christmas?" one of the children piped. "Dear, no; I gotta cook a big dinner up there. Can't git here 'fore six — don't know what you poor kids '11 do." The children began to sniffle and cry. "We ain't never had no Christmas." At this point there was stir in Caddie's room. "I've heard enough," Jack Tol- man said suddenly and at his words all present realized that they had been listen- ing to other people's affairs. They all looked shame-faced. "I suppose if we move — " began Mrs. Vane, evidently very much subdued — we'd add to their troubles." "Multiply them," Caddie's twinkle came through a mist. "Where's our toddler?" Jack Tolman asked of his- wife with a tender note of solicitude. "Elva and Gale have him." "Yes, and I suppose the girls will have dinner ready, too," Mr. Vane observed, his face thoughtful. None of them spoke of the pathetic drama they had just overheard. The down stairs tenants hurried away. Caddie V. was left to guess at their reaction. She decided not to speak but she waited in a fever of anxiety. The next day no moving vans ap- peared. Caddie soon began to feel the Christmas spirit instead. And what a beau- tiful spirit developed! Everyone seemed to be cherishing a zestful little secret. All of the occupants of Rose Terrace had plan- ned to spend for themselves and their friends every cent of their pay checks, yet they found a way to admit the famous guest of the great Day of Giving. Jack Tolman was the first to tiptoe up to Caddie's door. "My, I sure 'blowed' myself," he told Caddie in a chuckling whisper; "got 'em a turkey — that's what I used to long for when I was a kid. You're such a marvelous cook, Caddie, I thought maybe you'd roast it and present it; I wouldn't know how." He went away all smiles. Then pretty Mrs. Tolman came pussy- footing up. She had squeezed enough from her budget to buy a tin whistle and a top for the baby, and a jack knife for Harry. "You know," she said in a gurgling undertone, "that boy, with his blue eyes and curly hair reminds me of Jack, and I'll bet he'll make something of himself like Jack has. Don't you think he will?" She was all kindness. Mrs. Vane went in for mittens. She was quite breathless in her pleasure. "I got 'em at a bargain — taking the four pair — they're real wool. And, mercy, I don't know what those children need worse than mittens," she emphasized hap- pily to Caddie for she, too, had brought her Christmas offering for the hapless family up to Caddie's door. The Vane girls dressed two of their old dolls. "We're thrilled to tears," they giggled under their breath, wh^n the)(' slipped their dolls up stairs to their neigh- bor. "Don't they look simply darling?" both asked proudly, exhibiting their handi- work. Even Mr. Vane mounted the stairs. There was a pleased sparkle in his eyes. "I've interested the civic center people," he explained softly, "and they're going to send coal and groceries tonight. I have another scheme on foot for them, too, if it develops as I am planning — tell you about it later." Caddie V. cooked all day. She made dough-nuts and raisin bread and mince pie until the upper floor smelled like a bakery shop. She even managed to get her mother excited to the point of a benevolent gesture. "Here, mother, can't you run these stockings up by hand for

CADDIE TAKES A RISK 133 me?" She cried in a flutter of gaity as she produced some bright red and green mosquito-bar cut into four pairs of stock- ings. "You see. I'm going to fill them up with candy and nuts and oranges and hang them up in their room. Won't that be Christmasie?" Caddie was deliciously thrilled, she had done this same thing a thousand times in her mind for the little ones of her own who had never material- ized; it seemed just about as good to do it now for some "of these." "Yes, it will. Caddie, and I'll make the stockings for you. But, my, it will bring our grocery bill up out of sight." "Oh, we'll pinch or something else; I'll give up my cocoa" — it was Caddie's one extravagance — "and I'll make the broom last until February," she pacified with her merry twinkle. Christmas day every one in the Terrace went up to the one-time trap-room to see how the "unfortunates" were enjoying the great occasion. The way those chil- dren were stuffing candy and nuts and doughnuts, and carrying around turkey bones was both comical and touching to witness. The girls hugged their dolls, the baby tooted his horn, the big boy whittled in smiling content. Rose Terrace was vibrant. Mrs. Vane was particularly happy and volluble. "Hasn't it been the loveliest Christ- mas?" she gushed to Caddie. "And you know Gail and Elva have a lot a dresses we can make over for those little girls during the holidays." Caddie smiled. Mrs. Vane was evi- dently not planning to leave. Towards evening the mother being ex- pected everyone assembled to wish her Merry Christmas. When she came and saw everything she smiled and laughed de- lightfully, of course, but the tears trickled down her cheeks in a stream. "Oh, ain't this grand for my poor kids," she kept saying. Once she said to her husband, "You see, Hen, it's like I told you. people's hearts is good when they know how things are." The climax came for this little family — for good fortune like its opposite never comes single — when Mr. Vane rushed up stairs late that night to say that a friend of his had a small farm near town with- out a tenant; there was not much work to do this time of year — stock and poultry to feed, a few cows to milk — Mr. Vane's friend, therefore, could pay only a small salary but there was everything to eat on the place, milk, cream, eggs, flour, cured meat, pitted vegetables; would this man like to take the place? The man said he would, quickly enough, grinning for the first time since he arrived and offering the information that he was brought up on a farm and liked no place better. "I'm so pleased," the woman confided to Caddie, crying a little for joy; "Hen ain't a bad feller: he's good. He's only acted this way since he's been out of work, and hungry all the time, and had to take care of the kids — a man ain't got no business takin' care of kids; men ain't got no patience. "An' I won't never forget you nor this Christmas if I live a thousand years," she went on; "it's been a really Merry Christmas." and the look she gave Caddie opened the door to the kingdom — the kingdom of pure joy — to that kindlv mother-heart. Pcovo. Utah Gleams of Hope Dawn, like the sun, dispells the sad gloom Displaying the morn, and scenting its bloom' Never a night but follows a day — Never a tear that won't brush away! Always a heart to cheer you and fight — Crowning with peace Love's joyous flight! WESTON N. NORDGRAN