CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
A Protégé of Miss Dearmer's
Lesley Dearmer and her aunt were staying that night at Ashville with their friends, and next morning everything was arranged. Loveland explained that, in a fortnight, at latest, he would certainly be released from the bondage of his embarrassments, therefore he would take service as Mr. Cremer's chauffeur only for that length of time, thus giving his employers a chance to find a good man for a permanent engagement. He received from Lesley the two weeks' wages in advance, and the fifty dollars—a far larger amount than he had touched since landing—seemed to him a respectable sum. Ten dollars he kept for his own necessities, and the rest he divided among the members of the broken company.
The profits from the three performances of "Lord Bob" paid the hotel bills for all, and left a few dollars over. Lumped together, there was enough to take Lillie de Lisle, Ed Binney, Miss St. Clare, and the Winters to Chicago, leaving something to tide each one through a week or two of idleness.
Lillie, Ed, and Miss St. Clare could hardly express their gratitude to Loveland, and the words they said to him warmed his heart as it had never been warmed before. There was a queer kind of happiness in sacrificing himself for others that came as an absolutely new sensation to Val. He wondered at it, feeling the glow of it, and was dimly conscious that the hardships he endured had unexpected compensations.
As for Pa and Ma Winter, they were less openly grateful, seeming to take what was done for them more or less as a right; and they would assuredly have protested vigorously had Loveland favoured his friends, Miss de Lisle and Ed Binney, beyond what they—the Winters—had received. Their attitude, however, mattered little to Val. They were old and unfortunate, and he was sorry for them, as he was learning to be sorry for those upon whom the world was hard: besides, Lillie and Ed, and perhaps Miss St. Clare, would have refused to accept anything beyond what the Winters shared; and both assured Val that one day, before long, they would repay him all.
Lillie was in touch with Bill again; therefore, in spite of the uncertain future, she was not unhappy. She had written to Bill the day after Loveland joined the company, had sent him a photograph of herself, and a collar for Shakespeare, the best that could be bought for fifty cents in Modunk. Bill had answered to Ashville, and though neither had any prospects, both had unlimited hope, now that they were sure of the love and loyalty which had outlived discouragements, absence, and unprosperous years. Lillie was going to Chicago, and Chicago might have something to offer. Bye and bye—who could tell?—she and Bill, "the best man she ever knew," might come together. Meanwhile, they could go on loving each other.
The girl went off buoyed up with hope; and Ed Binney had friends in Chicago. He would rest a little, and be "all right," he said to Val, shaking hands over and over again in the moment of goodbye.
To reach Lesley Dearmer's home it was necessary to travel for an hour in a slow local train which lingered lovingly at each tiny station by the way, and then to drive for six miles in a carriage. This last stage of the journey ended at the Hill Farm, as Mrs. Loveland's place was called; and the Hill Farm lay in charming country not far from Louisville.