The Pit [148]
it up.
"Curtis."
"Well, old girl?"
"Do you see that date?"
He looked over to her.
"Do you see that date? Do you know of anything that makes that day different--a little--from other days? It's June thirteenth. Do you remember what June thirteenth is?"
Puzzled, he shook his head.
"No--no."
Laura took up a pen and wrote a few words in the space above the printed figures reserved for memoranda. Then she handed the slip to her husband, who read aloud what she had written.
"'Laura Jadwin's birthday.' Why, upon my word," he declared, sitting upright. "So it is, so it is. June thirteenth, of course. And I was beast enough not to realise it. Honey, I can't remember anything these days, it seems."
"But you are going to remember this time?" she said. "You are not going to forget it now. That evening is going to mark the beginning of--oh, Curtis, it is going to be a new beginning of everything. You'll see. I'm going to manage it. I don't know how, but you are going to love me so that nothing, no business, no money, no wheat will ever keep you from me. I will make you. And that evening, that evening of June thirteenth is mine. The day your business can have you, but from six o'clock on you are mine." She crossed the room quickly and took both his hands in hers and knelt beside him. "It is mine," she said, if you love me. Do you understand, dear? You will come home at six o'clock, and whatever happens--oh, if all La Salle Street should burn to the ground, and all your millions of bushels of wheat with it--whatever happens, you-- will--not--leave--me--nor think of anything else but just me, me. That evening is mine, and you will give it to me, just as I have said. I won't remind you of it again. I won't speak of it again. I will leave it to you. But--you will give me that evening if you love me. Dear, do you see just what I mean? ... _If you love me...._ No--no don't say a word, we won't talk about it at all. No, no, please. Not another word. I don't want you to promise, or pledge yourself, or anything like that. You've heard what I said--and that's all there is about it. We'll talk of something else. By the way, have you seen Mr. Cressler lately?"
"No," he said, falling into her mood. "No haven't seen Charlie in over a month. Wonder what's become of him?"
"I understand he's been sick," she told him. "I met Mrs. Cressler the other day, and she said she was bothered about him."
"Well, what's the matter with old Charlie?"
"She doesn't know, herself. He's not sick enough to go to bed, but he doesn't or won't go down town to his business. She says she can see him growing thinner every day. He keeps telling her he's all right, but for all that, she says, she's afraid he's going to come down with some kind of sickness pretty soon."
"'Say," said Jadwin, "suppose we drop around to see them this afternoon? Wouldn't you like to? I haven't seen him in over a month, as I say. Or telephone them to come up and have dinner. Charlie's about as old a friend as I have. We used to be together about every hour of the day when we first came to Chicago. Let's go over to see him this afternoon and cheer him up."
"No," said Laura, decisively. "Curtis, you must have one day of rest out of the week. You are going to lie down all the rest of the afternoon, and sleep if you can. I'll call on them to-morrow."
"Well, all right," he assented. "I suppose I ought to sleep if I can. And then Sam is coming up here, by five. He's going to bring some railroad men with him. We've got a lot to do. Yes, I guess, old girl, I'll try to get forty winks before they get here. And, Laura," he added, taking her hand as she rose to go, "Laura, this is the last lap. In just another month now--oh, at the outside, six weeks--I'll have closed the corner, and then, old girl, you and I will go somewheres, anywhere you like, and then we'll have a good time together all the rest of our lives--all the rest of our lives, honey. Good-by. Now I think I can go to sleep."
She arranged the
"Curtis."
"Well, old girl?"
"Do you see that date?"
He looked over to her.
"Do you see that date? Do you know of anything that makes that day different--a little--from other days? It's June thirteenth. Do you remember what June thirteenth is?"
Puzzled, he shook his head.
"No--no."
Laura took up a pen and wrote a few words in the space above the printed figures reserved for memoranda. Then she handed the slip to her husband, who read aloud what she had written.
"'Laura Jadwin's birthday.' Why, upon my word," he declared, sitting upright. "So it is, so it is. June thirteenth, of course. And I was beast enough not to realise it. Honey, I can't remember anything these days, it seems."
"But you are going to remember this time?" she said. "You are not going to forget it now. That evening is going to mark the beginning of--oh, Curtis, it is going to be a new beginning of everything. You'll see. I'm going to manage it. I don't know how, but you are going to love me so that nothing, no business, no money, no wheat will ever keep you from me. I will make you. And that evening, that evening of June thirteenth is mine. The day your business can have you, but from six o'clock on you are mine." She crossed the room quickly and took both his hands in hers and knelt beside him. "It is mine," she said, if you love me. Do you understand, dear? You will come home at six o'clock, and whatever happens--oh, if all La Salle Street should burn to the ground, and all your millions of bushels of wheat with it--whatever happens, you-- will--not--leave--me--nor think of anything else but just me, me. That evening is mine, and you will give it to me, just as I have said. I won't remind you of it again. I won't speak of it again. I will leave it to you. But--you will give me that evening if you love me. Dear, do you see just what I mean? ... _If you love me...._ No--no don't say a word, we won't talk about it at all. No, no, please. Not another word. I don't want you to promise, or pledge yourself, or anything like that. You've heard what I said--and that's all there is about it. We'll talk of something else. By the way, have you seen Mr. Cressler lately?"
"No," he said, falling into her mood. "No haven't seen Charlie in over a month. Wonder what's become of him?"
"I understand he's been sick," she told him. "I met Mrs. Cressler the other day, and she said she was bothered about him."
"Well, what's the matter with old Charlie?"
"She doesn't know, herself. He's not sick enough to go to bed, but he doesn't or won't go down town to his business. She says she can see him growing thinner every day. He keeps telling her he's all right, but for all that, she says, she's afraid he's going to come down with some kind of sickness pretty soon."
"'Say," said Jadwin, "suppose we drop around to see them this afternoon? Wouldn't you like to? I haven't seen him in over a month, as I say. Or telephone them to come up and have dinner. Charlie's about as old a friend as I have. We used to be together about every hour of the day when we first came to Chicago. Let's go over to see him this afternoon and cheer him up."
"No," said Laura, decisively. "Curtis, you must have one day of rest out of the week. You are going to lie down all the rest of the afternoon, and sleep if you can. I'll call on them to-morrow."
"Well, all right," he assented. "I suppose I ought to sleep if I can. And then Sam is coming up here, by five. He's going to bring some railroad men with him. We've got a lot to do. Yes, I guess, old girl, I'll try to get forty winks before they get here. And, Laura," he added, taking her hand as she rose to go, "Laura, this is the last lap. In just another month now--oh, at the outside, six weeks--I'll have closed the corner, and then, old girl, you and I will go somewheres, anywhere you like, and then we'll have a good time together all the rest of our lives--all the rest of our lives, honey. Good-by. Now I think I can go to sleep."
She arranged the