All in Good Time Read online

  “Oh, it’s all true, sir,” Robert said.

  “Well, it’s hard for me to — look, is it really the —? I mean, what year is it, actually?”

  “1881, sir.”

  “Ah,” Mr. Shaw said faintly. “I see … Who’s President?”

  “Mr. Garfield, sir.”

  “Mmm … 1881 … I can’t seem to get my bearings. Is the, ah, Franco-Prussian war on? Or hasn’t it begun?”

  “Oh, no, sir, it’s been over for some time now—ten years, as a matter of fact. There’s no fighting going on anywhere now, I regret to say, except maybe the Transvaal.”

  “You regret you say!”

  “Well, you see, sir, I have a professional interest. I want to be an officer in the Army when I grow up.”

  “Oh. Well, I guess these things seem different when you’re young … I was an officer in the Army myself, and it was the happiest day in my life when I got my discharge.”

  “You were an officer, sir?” Robert said eagerly. “May I ask what rank?”

  “First Lieutenant.”

  Robert’s owlish eyes grew even rounder. “Did you see any action?”

  “A little. Enough to last me a lifetime.”

  “Oh, come on, Bobbie,” Susan interrupted, “you can talk about all that later. We have our own campaign to think about now. I mean,” she checked herself, “if it’s all right with both of you to — go ahead …”

  “Oh, yes!” Robert said. “I should say so!”

  “I am sure,” Victoria said in her Deportment Class voice, “that there can be no impropriety in arranging a meeting between our mother and Mr. Shaw.”

  She had been covertly studying Mr. Shaw all during his conversation with Robert. There was a hesitancy in her manner now that made Susan ask, “What’s the matter, Vicky?”

  Victoria clasped her hands and lowered her eyes. “I fear it is dreadfully presumptuous of me,” she murmured.

  “Oh, Vick, for heaven’s sake! What is the matter?”

  “Well, you see — it’s — I’m afraid that — Mr. Shaw’s clothes —” and she finished up in a rush, “are-not-quite-the-thing,” blushing so furiously that it was noticeable even by the light of the bull’s-eye.

  The Shaws burst out laughing. “Just what I thought myself,” Mr. Shaw said. And Susan threw her arms around Victoria and said, “Oh, Vicky, why did you think we’d care if you told us?”

  “Well, I was afraid that you might have gone to a lot of trouble.”

  “Oh, no — I just went to a theatrical costumer and asked for something suitable for the ’eighties. I never thought about men’s styles changing form year to year, but they do, don’t they?”

  “I think they gave you the wrong period altogether, Sue. I mean, those lapels and the cut of the shoulders and that cravat — goodness, no one wears clothes like that now. It looks as strange as if he were to wear twentieth-century things.”

  “All right, we’ll have to get something fashionable, then. What do you suggest?”

  “There’s Bardwell’s,” Robert said.

  “Oh …” Victoria made a little face, “But it will have to be something like that, I’m afraid. Bardwell’s Haberdashers and Gents’ Outfitters,” she explained to Susan. “They have ready-made clothes, but their taste leaves much to be desired … Well! I’m sure you can find something wearable there. A light-colored suit would be right for this time of year.”

  “We concluded that you ought to go into town anyway,” Robert said. “It would look more real if you came to Hollisters’ from town. What we thought was, you could find Jim Perkins at the railroad station, and ask him to recommend a place to stay in the country—”

  “You have come to the countryside to take the air,” Victoria said. “You’re travelling for your health. Do you think you could manage to look pale?”

  “Oh, we’re both perfectly healthy,” Susan said. “Why can’t we be coming to the country for a vacation? It’s better to keep things simple, you don’t have to explain so much.”

  “I expect you’re right,” Victoria sighed. “It’s just that a person recovering from a long illness is so — interesting. Particularly if the illness was connected with a broken heart.”

  “Oh, listen to that, will you?” Robert groaned.

  “You have no more romance in your soul than a toad,” his sister sniffed.

  “Anyway, we ask Jim Perkins where to go —?”

  “He’s sure to recommend the Hollisters,” Robert said. “I think they have a little agreement. He’ll drive you out in his surrey for fifty cents —”

  “And then when you’re all settled in,” Victoria went on, “you could happen to be walking about in the Hollisters’ garden, Sue, and Bobbie and I could just happen to be out strolling ourselves, and we could happen to meet each other, and our acquaintance could ripen into friendship with extraordinary rapidity —”

  “Oh!” Robert said. “It had a better be extraordinary rapidity! I just remembered — there isn’t much time.” He gave his sister a look.

  She gasped, putting her hands to her mouth. “There’s so much to think about, I quite forgot!”

  “What is it?” Susan asked in alarm.

  “It’s Cousin Jane,” Robert said glumly. “Oh, I wish Mama had never —”

  “Now, Bobbie, you know Mama would never have written to Cousin Jane if the rest of the family weren’t so far away. And she never asked Cousin Jane to come here—she only asked if we could go —”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter what she wrote or why. The thing is, Cousin Jane is coming here. Day after tomorrow, in the afternoon.”

  “But,” Susan said, “didn’t your Mama get the money and the note from her unknown admirer that we made up? I thought that was going to keep her from making hasty decisions.”

  “She’d already written,” Victoria sighed. “And it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway, as it turns out.”

  “What happened?”

  “Why, we pretended that we’d found the money and the note on the doorstep,” Victoria said. “She read the note several times and then she said, ‘Well! Some eccentric and anonymous person wishes to make us the object of his charity,’ and she put the money on the table. And I could tell by the way she did it that she would never touch it again … But you know, now that I think about it, I can’t blame her. I mean, goodness, it might have been form some terrible person like Mr. Sweeney! I’m afraid I was so carried away by the romantic aspect of the idea that I didn’t think.”

  “So the upshot is,” Robert went on, “that Cousin Jane …” His voice trailed off.

  “But what’s so terrible about Cousin Jane?” Susan asked.

  Robert and Victoria looked at each other and sighed.

  “She’s — a Tartar,” Victoria said.

  “I’d rather face a regiment of Prussian cavalry than Cousin Jane,” Robert said.

  “But what can she do?”

  “She can Disapprove,” Victoria said.

  “Do you think she’s going to disapprove of Daddy?”

  “I’m afraid so … In fact, I know she will.”

  The three of them turned their troubles faces toward Mr. Shaw. He was leaning with folded arms against a post.

  “It’s nothing to do with you, sir, personally,” Robert explained. “She disapproves of men in general.”

  Mr. Shaw gave a little smile and said, “I see.”

  “Good grief!” Susan sighed. “It’s beginning to sound so complicated … I’m sorry, Daddy, I thought everything would be simple and straightforward.”

  “Well, it is, as far as I can see,” Mr. Shaw said. “You kids arrange a meeting, and we meet, and —” he lifted his shoulders “— there we are.”

  ‘Darn you, Daddy!’ she thought. ‘Can’t you at least act as thought you’re looking forward to it?’ “Yes!” she said, too loudly and too quickly, to cover up her embarrassment. “Have we forgotten anything?” she hurried on. “I guess not. Oh, wait, yes! Money! All I’ve go
t is an eagle. We’ll need more for Daddy’s clothes and something for the Hollisters.”

  “Totus dexter,” Robert said, raising his finger.

  “What?”

  He grinned. “That’s what a fellow in my Latin class always says. It means ‘all right.’ ” He took some gold coins from his pocket and handed them to Susan.

  “Fine. I guess we’re all set, then. We’ll go first thing in the morning. Oh! — which way is it to town?”

  “Opposite the way we went to find the treasure,” Victoria said. “Good night, sir, I hope you sleep well.”

  “Good night, sir,” Robert said.

  “Yes, good night, good night, thank you,” Mr. Shaw said.

  Robert closed the shutter of his bull’s-eye, and he and the girls went outside. Victoria said, “Go on ahead, Bobbie, I want to speak with Sue privately a moment.”

  “Oh,” she went on when Robert had left, “he is handsome! I do wish I could go with you when we buy his new clothes — we could make him so nobby! But, Sue … he seems — a little …”

  “Unenthusiastic,” Susan sighed. “I know. I could just choke him! I guess it’s because he’s having such a hard time believing what’s happening. Grown-ups don’t adjust very easily.”

  “No … Mama’s going to be difficult too, I’m afraid. This afternoon I was sounding her out, very delicately, of course; and she as good as said that no man could ever interest her again. I think her spirits were dashed when she discovered the truth about Mr. Sweeney.”

  “That’s understandable … Still, though, I don’t think Daddy and I are up here for nothing. The witch gave me three trips on the elevator, after all; and so it couldn’t have been just to chase Mr. Sweeney away, because we managed that on my first trip.”

  “That’s so. We are dabbling in magic, aren’t we? Oooh, it’s so — shivery! I keep forgetting because it’s all mixed up with real everyday things.”

  “Yes. Well, Daddy and your Mama can think what they want to think now; but I’m sure that when they meet each other, things will begin to happen. I wish I knew what time we’ll be ready, but it’ll all depend on how long we’re in town. Could you just keep a lookout, and come outside when you see me?”

  “Yes! And then when we’ve all had a chance to become acquainted, we’ll persuade Mama to come out and meet the nice gentleman and his lovely daughter —”

  “Oh, foo!” Susan said, giving Victoria a little push.

  “And then as you said, things will begin to happen! Oh, I declare, I’m not going to be able to sleep a wink tonight!”

  4. A Familiar Face

  … didn’t sleep either, but later we took a nap on the way in. Daddy got a whole new outfit and looks very “nobby” as Vicky would say. An awful thing almost happened while we were waiting at the railroad station …

  They were comfortable enough in the stable. Blankets and pillows had been smuggled in during the day by Robert, to spread over the straw. It was dark and quiet and warm. But they couldn’t sleep.

  Mr. Shaw shifted, and sighed, and shifted, and yawned, and shifted again. Susan lay staring into the dark, feeling as though she were stuck on an emotional rollercoaster. Everything was going to fail. Everything was going to go like a dream. It would be a flop. It would be lovely … She chewed her knuckle until it was sore.

  They started as a nearby rooster raucously predicted daybreak. Already? Yes, the stars were growing dim. A bird began to carol. Above her head the swallows stirred and squeaked in their nest.

  Ah, well. They had to be gone before anyone else was up, and since they couldn’t sleep anyway … “Come on, Daddy,” she sighed. “Time to go.”

  He got up with a groan. Stiff-legged and yawning, they skirted the house, reached the dusty lane, and began to plod town-ward.

  “That’s Hollisters’,” she murmured. “That’s where we’ll be staying.” Mr. Shaw took a brief look and grunted. She could not feel any enthusiasm herself at the moment. The house looked dingy and forlorn next to the grandeur of the Walkers’.

  They trudged about a mile in glum silence. The unfolding glory of sunrise only hurt their eyes. They were city people, unused to walking, and their legs quickly wearied. Susan’s recently-sprained ankle throbbed. When they reached a little wooden bridge over a stream, Mr. Shaw leaned on the rail and croaked, “I need a rest.” They stumbled down the bank to the water’s edge and bathed their eyes. The buttercup-spangled grass on the bank was thick and soft. They sank down on it. The stream murmured over its pebbles; heat gathered in the air. They slept.

  The sun was high overhead when they woke again.

  They splashed water on their faces and looked about them with revived spirits. “First good sleep I’ve had in several days,” Mr. Shaw remarked. “I’m hungry!” she said, “Are you?” He clutched his midriff and groaned. “Come on,” she cried, jumping up, “let’s get to town quick and have something to eat! Oh, goodness, what a mess we are!” She began to brush bits of straw and grass form Mr. Shaw’s rumpled clothes. Of course she had forgotten to bring a comb. Her father was going to need a shave soon, but neither of them had thought about bringing a razor. How could she have spent so much time considering the right kind of diary, and none at all thinking about necessities like combs and razors? They were going to have to outfit themselves from the ground up!

  “Best foot forward!” Mr. Shaw said, and they set off again.

  The first house appeared around a bend in the road, and beyond it a scattering of others. And now there were people ahead. Mr. Shaw stared. Susan found that she was staring too; she wasn’t as used to nineteenth-century dress as she thought. “It’s real, Daddy,” she murmured, more to reassure herself than him. Her eyes darted everywhere: she was taking a crash course in contemporary fashions. ‘I’ll have to get a bonnet,’ she thought.

  The road turned into a tunnel under a vault of elms, and led them to the town square. “Can’t be real,” Mr. Shaw murmured; “must be a big movie set.” There were formal rosebeds, a white bandstand as decorated as a wedding cake, some cannons on stone pedestals, a fountain, wooden plank sidewalks, stone hitching posts with iron rings.

  A mouthwatering smell led them across the square to a bakery, where they bought half a dozen doughnuts. Munching these, they ambled along the plank sidewalk past a bank, a hardware store, a saloon, an aromatic livery stable, a carriage-maker’s shop, and so on around two sides of the square until they came to Bardwell’s Haberdashers and Gents’ Outfitters.

  “What is it I’m supposed to get, now?” Mr. Shaw asked.

  Susan had drawn some conclusions from her crash course in styles. “Everything,” she said firmly.

  They went in. A young man with crisply-curled blond hair bounded forward with a glad cry of “Yes, sir!”

  Mr. Shaw cleared his throat. “Ah … a new suit —”

  The clerk looked Mr. Shaw up and down with an expert flick of his eyes. A puzzled look came over his face. Susan saw that it was time to clarify matters.

  “My father and I have just returned from abroad,” she said. “From … Prussia. Now that we’re back, we think American clothing would be more suitable.”

  “Of course!” cried the clerk, his expression clearing at once. “You’ve certainly come to the right establishment, sir, if I may say so. Let me show you a cut, sir, that is highly recommended among the better element in these parts.”

  After a good deal of picking and choosing, Mr. Shaw was outfitted in a fawn-colored checked suit; a cream-colored waistcoat with gold buttons; a snowy shirt with a stand-up collar; a rich maroon cravat; and a straw hat. The clerk was entranced. “Capital, sir!” he cried. “Why, I guess the best concern of the city couldn’t turn you out any better. But I might say, sir, that those, ah, Prooshian, ah, slippers —” He frowned at Mr. Shaw’s twentieth-century shoes. “May I sud-gest, sir, that the bootmakers across the square, Jackson and Son, can furnish the genuine American article?”

  “You do look marvelous, Daddy,” Susan said as
they came out into the sunlight again. “So young and elegant. And now for the genuine American article!”

  Leaving him at the bootmakers’, she hurried around the shops until she had acquired a blue bonnet and a tortoise-shell comb for herself, shaving equipment for her father, and toothbrushes for both of them. These purchases, on top of Mr. Shaw’s clothes and boots, reduced their funds to a few dollars. Susan looked down at her — Victoria’s — dress and sighed. She had hoped …

  Ah, well — maybe Vicky could come back to town with her tomorrow and help her choose a whole wardrobe. They would have a lovely time of it together …

  Jim Perkins was nowhere in sight at the railroad station.

  “He’s at a business meetin’,” the ticket-seller told them, giving Mr. Shaw a solemn wink. “Next train’s due in five minutes; guess he’ll be on hand for that—if he ain’t been liquidated.” They sat down outside the stationhouse on a green bench. Mr. Shaw suddenly looked happy. “I just thought!” he said. “It’s going to be a steam locomotive! It’ll have to be if we’re really … here. Wow! I haven’t seen one since I was a kid.” Susan had never seen one at all.

  The station began to come alive. Wheels and hooves could be heard on the other side of the building; there were voices in the waiting room; people began to stroll up and down on the platform. Then the faraway sound of the whistle, like the one Susan had heard on her first night in this century; bustling sounds from the baggage shed; horses whickering and stamping out front. Then the locomotive was bearing down on them, black and smoky, filling the air with its hissing and the rumble of steel wheels on steel rails and the ping of its boiler. Mr. Shaw’s eyes shone. Susan, feeling a mixture of fright and excitement, grabbed his sleeve and shouted, “Oh, Daddy, let’s go somewhere on a train as soon as we can!” People began to move toward the cars. Among them she noticed a man who wore a derby tilted to reveal a wave of shining black hair, whose mustache was trimmed as if with a ruler, whose white hand fastidiously held a cigar …

  Her heart turned over.

  It was Mr. Sweeney.