look foolish, if he was capable of inspiring love like this?
A wave of humility swept over her. The pygmies of her world were
springing up as giants, dwarfing her. The pinnacle of superiority on
which she had stood so long was crumbling into dust.
She was finding herself. She winced again as the thought stabbed her
that she was finding herself too late.
They reached the house in silence, each occupied with her own thoughts.
The defiant look had died out of Sybil's face and she was once more a
child, crying because unknown forces had hurt it. But Ruth was not
looking at her now.
She was too busy examining this new world into which she had been
abruptly cast, this world where dolls had souls and jokes lost their
point.
At the cottage good news awaited them. The crisis was past. Bailey was
definitely out of danger. He was still asleep, and sleeping easily. It
had just been an ordinary breakdown, due to worrying and overwork, said
the doctor, the bigger of the doctors, the one who had been summoned
from New York.
"All your husband needs now, Mrs. Bannister, is rest. See that he is
kept quiet. That's all there is to it."
As if by way of a commentary on his words, a small boy on a bicycle
rode up with a telegram.
Sybil opened it. She read it, and looked at Ruth with large eyes.
"From the office," she said, handing it to her.
Ruth read it. It was a C. D. Q., an S.O.S. from the front; an appeal
for help from the forefront of the battle. She did not understand the
details of it, but the purport was clear. The battle had begun, and
Bailey was needed. But Bailey lay sleeping in his tent.
She handed it back in silence. There was nothing to be done.
The second telegram arrived half an hour after the first. It differed
from the first only in its greater emphasis. Panic seemed to be growing
in the army of the lost leader.
The ringing of the telephone began almost simultaneously with the
arrival of the second telegram. Ruth went to the receiver. A frantic
voice was inquiring for Mr. Bannister even as she put it to her ear.
"This is Mrs. Winfield speaking," she said steadily, "Mr. Bannister's
sister. Mr. Bannister is very ill and cannot possibly attend to any
business."
There was a silence at the other end of the wire. Then a voice, with
the calm of desperation, said: "Thank you." There was a pause. "Thank
you," said the voice again in a crushed sort of way, and the receiver
was hung up. Ruth went back to Sybil.
The hours passed. How she got through them Ruth hardly knew. Time
seemed to have stopped. For the most part they sat in silence. In the
afternoon Sybil was allowed to see Bailey for a few minutes. She
returned thoughtful. She kissed Ruth before she sat down, and once or
twice after that Ruth, looking up, found her eyes fixed upon her. It
seemed to Ruth that there was something which she was trying to say,
but she asked no questions.
After dinner they sat out on the porch. It was a perfect night. The
cool dusk was soothing.
Ruth broke a long silence.
"Sybil!"
"Yes, dear?"
"May I tell you something?"
"Well?"
"I'm afraid it's bad news."
Sybil turned quickly.
"You called up the office while I was with Bailey?"
Ruth started.
"How did you know?"
"I guessed. I have been trying to do it all day, but I hadn't the
pluck. Well?"
"I'm afraid things are about as bad as they can be. A Mr. Meadows spoke
to me. He was very gloomy. He told me a lot of things which I couldn't
follow, details of what had happened, but I understood all that was
necessary, I'm afraid......"
"Bailey's ruined?" said Sybil quietly.
"Mr. Meadows seemed to think so. He may have exaggerated."
Sybil shook her head.
"No. Bailey was talking to me upstairs. I expected it."
There was a long silence.
"Ruth."
"Yes?"
"I'm afraid..."
Sybil stopped.
"Yes?"
A sudden light of understanding came to Ruth. She knew what it was that
Sybil was trying to say, had been trying to say ever since she spoke
with Bailey.
"My money has gone, too? Is that it?"
Sybil did not answer. Ruth went quickly to her and took her in her
arms.
"You poor baby," she cried. "Was that what was on your mind, wondering
how you should tell me? I knew there was something troubling you."
Sybil began to sob.
"I didn't know how to tell you," she whispered.
Ruth laughed excitedly. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted
from her shoulders, a weight which had been crushing the life out of
her. In the last few days the scales had fallen from her eyes and she
had seen clearly.
She realized now what Kirk had realized from the first, that what had
forced his life apart from hers had been the golden wedge of her
father's money. It was the burden of wealth that had weighed her down
without her knowing it. She felt as if she had been suddenly set free.
"I'm dreadfully sorry," said Sybil feebly.
Ruth laughed again.
"I'm not," she said. "If you knew how glad I was you would be
congratulating me instead of looking as if you thought I was going to
bite you."
"Glad!"
"Of course I'm glad. Everything's going to be all right again now.
Sybil dear, Kirk and I had the most awful quarrel the other day. We, we
actually decided it would be better for us to separate. It was all my
fault. I had neglected Kirk, and I had neglected Bill, and Kirk
couldn't stand it any longer. But now that this has happened, don't you
see that it will be all right again? You can't stand on your dignity
when you're up against real trouble. If this had not happened, neither
of us would have had the pluck to make the first move; but now, you
see, we shall just naturally fall into each other's arms and be happy
again, he and I and Bill, just as we were before."
"It must be lovely for you having Bill," said little Mrs. Bailey
wistfully. "I wish..."
She stopped. There was a corner of her mind into which she could not
admit any one, even Ruth.
"Having him ought to have been enough for any woman." Ruth's voice was
serious. "It was enough for me in the old days when we were at the
studio. What fools women are sometimes! I suppose I lost my head,
coming suddenly into all that money, I don't know why; for it was not
as if I had not had plenty of time, when father was alive, to get used
to the idea of being rich. I think it must have been the unexpectedness
of it. I certainly did behave as if I had gone mad. Goodness! I'm glad
it's over and that we can make a fresh start."
"What is it like being poor, Ruth? Of course, we were never very well
off at home, but we weren't really poor."
"It's heaven if you're with the right man."
Mrs. Bailey sighed.
"Bailey's the right man, as far as I'm concerned. But I'm wondering how
he will bear it, poor dear."
Ruth was feeling too happy herself to allow any one else to be unhappy
if she could help it.
"Why, of course he will be splendid about it," she said. "You're
letting your imagination run away with you. You have got the idea of
Bailey and yourself as two broken creatures begging in the streets. I
don't know how badly Bailey will be off after this smash, but I do know
that he will have all his brains and his energy left."
Ruth was conscious of a momentary feeling of surprise that she should
be eulogizing Bailey in this fashion, and, stranger still, that she
should be really sincere in what she said. But to-day seemed to have
changed everything, and she was regarding her brother with a new-born