The Brown Study Read online

  IV

  BROWN'S SISTER SUE

  It was a rainy, windy, November night. Brown and Bim were alonetogether--temporarily. Suddenly, above the howling of the wind soundedsharply the clap of the old knocker on the door. Brown laid down hisbook--reluctantly, for he was human. A woman's figure, clad from head tofoot in furs, sprang from the car at the curb, ran across the sidewalk,and in at the open door.

  "Go back to the hotel and come for me at twelve, Simpson," she said toher chauffeur as she passed him, and the next moment she was inside thehouse and had flung the door heavily shut behind her.

  "O Don!" she cried, and assailed the tall figure before her with a furryembrace, which was returned with a right good will.

  "Well, well, Sue girl! Have you driven seventy miles to see me?"was Brown's response. Bim, circling madly around the pair, barkedhis emotion.

  "Is this--" began Brown's visitor, glancing rapidly about her as shereleased herself. "Is this--" she began again, and stopped helplessly.Then, "O Don!" she said once more, and again, "O Don!"--and laughed.

  "Yes, I know," said Brown, smiling. "Here, let me take off your furs.It's pretty warm here, I imagine. Bim and I are apt to keep a lot of woodon the fire."

  "Bim?"

  "At your feet--and your service."

  The lady looked at the dog, who stood watching her.

  "Your only companion, Don?" she asked.

  "My best chum. He's so nearly human he understands at this moment thatyou don't think him handsome. Never mind! We're used to it, aren't we,Bim? Come over and take this chair, Sue. Are you cold? Would you likesomething hot? Tea--or coffee?"

  She sat in the chair he drew to the fire for her. As he looked at hissister's charming, youthful face, and saw her sitting there in herhandsome street dress with its various little indications of wealth andfashion--the gold-meshed purse on its slender chain, the rare jewel inthe brooch at the throat, the flashing rings on the white hands--he drewin his breath in an incredulous little whistle.

  "Is it really you, Sis?" he said. "You look pretty good to me, do youknow, sitting there in my old chair!"

  She glanced at the arm of the old rocker, worn smooth by the rubbing ofmany hands.

  "Why do you have such a chair?" she answered impatiently--or so itsounded. "Why in the world, if you must live in a hovel like this, don'tyou make yourself comfortable? Send home for some easy chairs, and rugsand pictures." Her eye wandered about the room. "And a decentdesk--and--and--a well-bred dog!"

  He laughed. "A better bred dog, in one sense, than Bim you couldn'tfind. His manners are finer than those of most men. And as for this beinga hovel, you do it injustice. It was built at the beginning of the lastcentury by a titled Englishman, who used it for an office on his estate.Look at the big oak beams. Look at the floor, the doors, the fireplace.It's a distinguished little old house, Sue. Admit it!"

  She shook her head. "I'll admit nothing, except that you are the mosteccentric fellow who ever lived, to come off here and stay all byyourself, when you've been the idol of a congregation like St.Timothy's--and might still be their idol, if you would take just a littlemore assistance and not kill yourself with work. I've no patience withyou, Don!"

  He did not reply to this. Instead, he asked again gently, "Shall it betea or coffee, Sue?" He stood in the doorway which led to the kitchen andadded, as she hesitated, that he could give her an excellent brand ofeither. "Coffee, then," she chose, and sat staring into the fire untilher brother returned with his earthenware pot and the other essentialsfor the brewing of coffee, all set forth on a small tray. When,presently, he offered her a fragrant cup, she drank it eagerly.

  "That _is_ good," she declared. "I didn't know you could cook. When didyou learn?"

  "On my vacations in the woods. The guides taught me. LaFitte was awonderful cook--with certain limitations. I've picked up a few othertricks as well. Would you like something to eat?"

  "No, thank you."

  She had studied him with attention as he knelt before the fire,noting every detail of his appearance. She now put a question whichshe had reserved.

  "Just how well are you now?"

  He looked up. "Don't I look well enough to satisfy you?"

  "I can't tell. You are frightfully thin--"

  "I never was anything else."

  "Do you think this sort of thing is doing as much to make you well asDoctor Brainard's prescription of a voyage and stay in the South Seas?"

  "Much more."

  "You must be dreadfully lonely."

  He was sitting, Turk fashion, on the hearth-rug before her, his longlegs crossed beneath him, his hands clasping his knees. With thefirelight playing over his face and touching the thrown-back chestnutlocks of his heavy hair with high lights here and there, he lookeddecidedly boyish. At her suggestion of his probable loneliness he smiledand glanced at Bim.

  "Bim," said he, addressing a curled-up mass of rough brown hair fromwhich looked out two watchful brown eyes, and which responded instantlyto the name by resolving itself into an approaching dog, "are we everlonely? Rarely, Sue. As a matter of fact, we have a good many callers,first and last."

  "What sort of callers?"

  "Neighbours, and friends."

  "You are in a horribly poor locality. I noticed as I came through. Do youmean that you encourage these people to come to see you?"

  "We use all the drawing powers we have, Bim and I."

  "Do you mean to say," said she, bending forward, "that you are conductinga _mission_--here, in this place? When you ought to be just trying to getwell? Oh, what would Doctor Brainard say?" Her tone was full ofconsternation.

  Brown threw back his head and laughed, a big, hearty laugh which did notsound at all like that of an invalid.

  "Brainard seems to be your special anxiety," he said. "Send him down tosee me. I'll make him some flapjacks. If there's any one who appreciatesgood cookery it's Brainard."

  "Don," said his sister slowly, studying the face before her, "what areyou trying to do?"

  "Accomplish a little something while I'm marking time."

  "You ought to be resting!"

  "I am. This is child's play; compared with the parish of St. Timothy's.And it's lots more fun!"

  "You're an ascetic!"

  "Never. No crusts and water for me--coffee and flapjacks every time."

  Once more she bent toward him. "You are an ascetic. To live in thisplace, and wear--What are you wearing? Old clothes and a--What on earthis that scarf pin? A ten-cent piece?"

  He put up his hand. "Benson, the little old watchmaker on the corner,gave me that. No, it's not a dime. It pleases him immensely to see mewear it. It's not bad, Sue. Nonsense!"

  "It's not good--cheap!"

  He sat smiling up at her, while she regarded him in silence for a minute.Then she broke out again:

  "Why--_why_ do you do it? Haven't you worked hard enough in your greatparish, without allowing yourself to spoil this rest you so much need?"

  "Sue," said her brother, "the best cure for certain kinds of overwork ismerely more work, only of a different sort. I can't be idle andcontented. Can you?"

  "Idle! I should like to be idle. I'm rushed to death, all the time. It'skilling me."

  "Dressmakers and hairdressers--and dinners and bridge and the wholeroutine of your set," said he. "It is indeed a hard life--I wonder youstand it."

  "Don't be ironic!"

  "I'm not ironic. I realized, long ago, that it's the hardest life in theworld--and pays the least."

  She flushed. "I have my charities," she reminded him. "I'm not utterlyuseless. And my clubs--belonging to them is a duty I owe other women. Itry to fulfill it."

  "But you're not happy."

  "Happy! I've forgotten the meaning of the word. To tell the honesttruth, Don, I've been feeling for a long while that I didn't care--howsoon it ended."

  "Poor little sister!"

  A crashing blow upon the door startled Mrs. Breckenridge so that shecried out under her breath. Brown went to
the door. A furious gust ofwind hurled it wide open beneath his hand, but there was no one upon thedoorstep. No one? At his feet lay a bundle, from which sounded a wailingcry. He picked it up, looked up and down a vacant street, closed thedoor, and came back to Sue Breckenridge by the fire.

  "I wonder if they chose the bachelor's doorstep by chance or byintention," he said.