“That’s wonderful!” was the man’s surprising answer. “But I rather felt that all along, you know. What I can’t understand is Petra’s not feeling it, not trusting you before. But this is a grand time for her to begin. She may never need you again so much as she needs you right now, Doctor. She’s going to need steadying—and a lot of loving. I’m frightened for her, myself. She’s such a kid, really, in spite of the way she swells around with her three jobs and keeps a stiff upper lip. You’d think she was made of iron! But she isn’t. She’s really just a tender-hearted, frightened kid. Teresa, you see, is mother, brother, sister, parents to her, as well as friend. Teresa is home to Petra. All the home she’s ever known. Sanctuary too. If—if anything happens—to—to Teresa—I shouldn’t wonder if Petra goes right off her head.”
Where was the exaltation now? This was just a boy, fighting back sobs.
Lewis got up. He went to the window and sat on the sill, staring at McCloud. But McCloud got control of himself quickly—and with it the exalted look returned. His eyes were blue fire and so terribly steady.
Lewis said, “Neil, I don’t know a thing. Petra has been secret with me. From the beginning—or almost from the beginning. I thought you and she were together last night. I’ve got it all wrong. What was it really? Something to do with Teresa Kerr?”
Neil got up then. He came and sat on Lewis’ desk, his feet in Lewis’ chair. He hadn’t taken in what Lewis meant about himself and Petra—at least not its implication. It simply passed him by.
“We were together,” he said. “I was there. Teresa was terribly ill. It must have been about ten o’clock when it started. Janet got the doctor and Father Morris on the telephone. But I’m worried about that doctor. I don’t like him or trust him much. Clark’s his name. He has a general practice in Meadowbrook. He knows all about you, of course, but says you won’t know him. I told him I was coming to ask you to see Teresa and advise us. He says Teresa’s got to go right off to a sanitarium. There’s one in New Mexico that he says is her only chance. He says she ought to start to-morrow. But I don’t take any stock in him. Neither does Janet Frazier. She says you are the one who will know what we ought to do. Janet is sure—”
But Lewis interrupted: “Neil McCloud! Start over, will you. I can’t seem to catch on to what all this is about. You were at Teresa Kerr’s last night? How does Miss Frazier come into it? Where does Teresa live?”
“It’s a little house between Meadowbrook and Green Doors. Off the road. You’ve never seen it, probably. Nobody does. It’s right off the road—in another world. The girls call it Mary’s Field. Teresa’s got a touch of consumption. That’s why she’s there this summer. So that she can live practically out of doors. On the porch. She was there, in the long chair, last night. Janet and I had got supper together. Janet’s spending her vacation there. We were talking, very gay. It was moonlight. Janet has a mandolin. She’s good on it, too. Finally, quite late, Janet went in to do the dishes. She wouldn’t let me come. So I stayed out with Teresa. I was going in a few minutes, anyway. Getting back to Boston. I was sitting there on the floor by Teresa’s chair. She was lying in the long chair—almost flat. That’s what she’s had to do lately—whenever she’s not sewing. She’s so terribly tired all the time! We weren’t talking any more. I thought she’d better rest. I was trying to make myself go home. Suddenly she sat up straight with a queer sound in her throat. I jumped up. She put out her hands. Blood came from her mouth. It was only moonlight but I knew it was blood. I thought—we both thought—she was dying. We said things we’d never have said if we hadn’t thought so. But that’s all right. God intended it, I guess. I called Janet. She got Doctor Clark on the telephone—and then Father Morris. Father Morris is pastor of St. Joseph’s in Meadowbrook. It’s been Teresa’s church all summer. Father Morris seemed to know more than the doctor what to do for Teresa. The doctor just stood around and scolded us about Teresa’s having worked so hard on Petra’s birthday dress. A good thing Petra wasn’t there then! It was Father Morris who told us Teresa wasn’t dying. He and Petra, when Petra came, had the coolest heads of us all. They managed everything. Petra and I stayed with Teresa on the porch all night. She couldn’t sleep and Father Morris advised against any drug. We just stayed there quiet. Close to her. At dawn she went to sleep and Janet made us eat breakfast. I took Petra back to Green Doors. We thought Teresa was all right then, you see. But early this afternoon, Doctor Pryne, she had another hemorrhage. That’s why I didn’t call Petra as I promised to. I didn’t want her to know until she got to Mary’s Field this afternoon and could see how really better Teresa seems, in spite of this second hemorrhage. She’s seemed so well all day—even strong! She even wanted to sit up, but we haven’t let her. Father Morris came to the house just before I did call you and said I’d better not wait for Petra’s consent to our asking you to see Teresa. He urged me to drive right in and bring you both out. He says Teresa is very seriously ill, now, in spite of her feeling so well, and he feels that we must do something as quickly as possible. He knows about you and your work and was sure you’d come for Petra’s sake. You will, won’t you?” Neil had told it all quickly, his eyes never leaving Lewis’.
“Of course, Neil. You don’t need to ask! But tell me more. Is this why money is so important to Petra? Had she been supporting Teresa with the allowance I was the cause of her losing? Of course. How blind I’ve been!”
“Teresa makes Petra’s clothes and Petra pays her for that. Teresa’s got the devil’s own pride. She insists on earning her money, even when she can’t hold up her head. So you can’t say Petra’s been exactly supporting Teresa. She went to Radcliffe, you know, on a scholarship and evenings making Petra’s clothes. The idea was that when Teresa got her degree and a job—perhaps one like Janet’s—Petra would kiss Clare good-by and live with Teresa and go to some business college herself. They had it all worked out. Teresa was so quick and worked so hard, she hoped to graduate in less than four years. Petra’s ‘job’ at Green Doors was to be merely temporary. That is how she has been able to stand it. But last spring, when everything was working out beautifully, the college doctor found that Teresa had T.B. and they wouldn’t let her take her exams. They said she must live in the country, out of doors, all this summer. Petra found the house. She furnished it—borrowed ahead on her allowance. The place belongs to a farmer named Murray and it’s always been called ‘Murray’s Field.’ But Teresa understood it ‘Mary’s Field’ and took it without seeing it on account of the name! It’s been easy to keep Teresa’s living there secret from Green Doors—it’s so out of the way. But that’s where Petra has been wrong. Teresa would think so too, if she knew. It’s like living a double life. All Petra’s excuses for being away from Green Doors, you know! Teresa has never guessed how Petra’s had to twist and turn. She’d never have let her! Teresa’s like truth itself. But sometimes I have to laugh when I picture how astonished Clare would be if she could see Petra Saturday afternoons, on her hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor at Mary’s Field—until I came along, that is. I do the kitchen floor now on Saturdays!—Both the girls are death on dirt. But lately Teresa hasn’t been able even to wash the dishes and Petra’s done all the cleaning ever since they took the house.—What’s the matter, Pryne?”