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Full text of "Less Than The Angels"

AVILA COLLEGE 




18037 



Tlie College of St, Teresa Library 

Kansas City, Mo. 



1 * All pupils in the school are entitled 
the library and to draw hooks* 



LESS THAN THE ANGELS, BY ROGER 
DOOLEY, ROGER BDKKE 



IIC/D72 



ID 



ACL000018037 



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GIFT 
OF 

MONSIGNOR 
JOHN KEYES 

IN MEMORY" OF 
HIS PARENTS 

THOMAS KEYES 
I ELIZABETH AGNES KEYES 



LESS THAN 
THE ANGELS 



by R$GER B. DOOLEY 

71 0* G Teu** if Jk 








The Bruce Publishing Company 
11*37 



MILWAUKEE 



THE diocese of Lakeport, together with 
all its institutions and inhabitants, is a 
purely fictitious composite. For the sake 
of concreteness, it bears certain resem- 
blances in size and atmosphere to the 
city which the author knows best, but 
this does not mean that the characters, 
conversations, or events ever existed out- 
side these pages. 



COPYRIGHT, 1946 

ROGER B. DOOLEY 
PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. 



To MY MOTHER 



THOU HAST MADE A MAN A LITTLE 
LESS THAN THE ANGELS 

PSALMS 8:5 



J-s 

S3 






-i 



' sg 



Prologue 



'WHERE you goin', Carrier Her mother's plaintive 
German intonation had always grated on Caroline, hut 
especially during the past few years, when even a 
Teutonic name had become so questionable that Straub- 
meyer's "Lorelei" itself ("The Lager Lakeport Loves") 
had been prudently changed to "Liberty," with the blonde 
siren on the label replaced by the more American goddess. 

"Just over to Rosemary's, Mama. She's going to help me 
address some of these." Caroline picked up her box of 
invitations from the library table. 

Content, Louisa Straubmeyer bent again over the pil- 
low slip on which she was embroidering her daughter's 
initials. With her still fair hair knotted plainly on top, her 
small jet earrings, and the neat apron over her black silk 
dress, she looked the perfect "hausfrau" just the type 
Caroline had once dreaded to become. Indeed, although 
Rosemary's family had been only too proud to send her 
to Trinity, Caroline had encountered real opposition in 
her parents' staid German ideas of woman's proper place. 
But Caroline, as always, had known just what she was 
doing. College had opened up a whole new world to her; 
besides, girls who had done so many unheard-of things 
during the war were not going meekly back to the kitchen 
now. 

"It is eight o'clock already." Looking up from the Lake- 



port Volksprache, Julius Straubmeyer took the meer- 
schaum pipe from beneath his drooping gray mustache. 
"Don't stay out too late. I don't want you should be 
walking the streets alone late at night." 

Til be all right, Papa." Caroline escaped between the 
green velvet portieres into the hall and out the front door. 

One paid the price for being an only daughter, she 
thought, but she prided herself on her patience with her 
parents. So, although she could hardly indulge their sen- 
timental whim of postponing her wedding until the June 
day of their thirtieth anniversary, she was quite willing 
to wear her mother s bridal gown and not merely be- 
cause the bouffant lines of 1889 flattered her Junoesque 
figure more than the present pencil-slim silhouette, she 
told herself. Nor had she any objection to a ceremony in 
the old family parish, now that the pastor, her uncle 
Francis, had become Monsignor Straubmeyer. 

In the chilly March evening Caroline walked briskly. 
She passed the substantial brick houses of Tulip Street, 
with lights gleaming through heavily draped windows, 
and turned into Daisy Place. "The Flower Bed," the rest 
of the city called this solidly respectable German section, 
half in amusement and half in affection for the thrifty 
burghers who made up such a large part of the half-mil- 
lion population of this, the "Key City of the Great Lakes." 

Wondering in spite of herself what could be the news 
at which Rosemary had hinted so cryptically over the 
phone, Caroline crossed Main Street and continued west- 
ward the few remaining blocks to Baltimore Avenue, at 
the corner of which stood the Quinn homestead, built by 
Rosemary's father himself., a prosperous contractor. It was, 
if anything, more imposing than Caroline's house, for the 

2 



Irish were more inclined to spend their new fortunes 
not that it got them any further socially, Caroline reflected 
grimly, pressing the doorbell. 

"Mother and Dad are out," called Rosemary from the 
head of the stairs, as the maid took Caroline's cape. "Come 
on up." 

Raising the dotted veil, Caroline unpinned her thick 
beaver hat, and before the hall-rack mirror gave a smooth- 
ing pat to the two coils of fair braid that framed her firm, 
even features. The slight color in her cheeks had come 
only from the March wind, for rouge was still forbidden 
in the Straubmeyer household. 

In the daintily furnished bedroom she always envied, 
Caroline settled on a window seat, while Rosemary 
almost too well-dressed in her beaded chiffon blouse and 
trim, blue, hobble skirt sat at her desk. Her face was 
just too sharp for conventional prettiness, and she wore 
glasses; but her hair was beautiful, Caroline had to admit, 
if you liked such a flaming red. 

"How shall we do these invitations?" she asked, making 
no mention of whatever it was she had meant on the 
phone. Caroline was curious but unwilling to be the one 
to bring up the subject. 

"We'll each take half/* she said, dividing the invitations. 
"You can do this list here and 111 do this other one." 

"Quite a listr Rosemary observed. "Aren't you asking 
any of Bob's folks?" 

"Of course! Those last six names there are all his rela- 
tives, and besides there's that old doctor that put him 
through Georgetown. I suppose theyTl just send presents. 
They wouldn't know anyone else at the wedding." 

"Will Bob?" asked Rosemary dryly. 



Caroline ignored that. Was Rosemary trying to put off 
telling her news with these pointless questions? 

"You know perfectly well he s been here nearly six 
months now," she said with dignity, "and making more 
contacts every day, thanks to me and my family. Why, 
hell have a bigger practice here in a year than he ever 
would have had in that God-forsaken town he came from/' 

"He probably will, at that. For someone who started out 
to be a country doctor, he's certainly changed his ideas." 

"Well, he didn't know what he wanted, really. He 
needed someone like me. I realized that as soon as I got 
to know him." 

Indeed, she had realized that as soon as she had seen 
him, at that memorable Trinity tea early in her junior 
year. She had been listening with rapt inattention while 
a Catholic University law student explained why Hughes 
would inevitably defeat Wilson in November, when she 
became aware of someone's gaze. Glancing up, she saw a 
tall, slightly tousled young man, evidently just arrived 
and wondering what to do next. Before he could lower 
his eyes, she caught a look of such open admiration that a 
warm glow spread through her. Her looks were not of a 
kind generally admired in an era that idolized Irene 
Castle's daintiness, but suddenly she felt beautiful more 
beautiful than all the pretty little dark-haired or red- 
haired Irish girls around her. "Like Brunhilda ought to 
look but never does," Bob often told her later. "I knew 
right away you were for me. Did you?" "Of course, dear," 
Caroline always answered. She had known, all right, She 
had been so sure that she immediately fell into absorbed 
conversation with the law student, simply waiting for 
Bob to find his way to her. 



But this momentary reverie brought her no closer to 
the real reason Rosemary had asked her over. Rather than 
be kept in suspense the rest of the evening, Caroline de- 
cided to give in. 

"But Tm sure you didn't have me come over just to talk 
about Bob/' she said. "Didn't you say something about 
some news for me?" 

"Oh, that." Rosemary smiled mysteriously. "Well, I'm 
not so sure you'll want to hear it, after all." 

"Well, don't just sit there trying to look like the Mona 
Lisal Is it good news or bad?" 

"That all depends on the way you look at it. It's good, 
in a way, but it may seem bad to you." 

"Rosemary, are you going to keep this up all night? 
Did you or did you not say you had something to tell me?" 

"Oh, I have something, all right. I just don't want it to 
be too much of a shock." 

"Well, for goodness' sake, the longer you keep me in 
the dark, the worse you make it sound!" 

"All right, then, you asked for it. Russell is home. He 
got in unexpectedly this afternoon." 

"Oh, is that all?" Caroline was genuinely relieved. "And 
here you had me thinking it was something awful!" 

"It may be yet," said Rosemary. "He still doesn't know 
about your engagement. Aunt Molly was telling Mother 
over the phone she just didn't know how to break it to 
him" 

"Break it to him!" Caroline put down her pen, abandon- 
ing any further attempt to address invitations. "You make 
it sound as if I jilted him for Bob or something." 

"I didn't say that. Still, it is going to be hard 
to explain." 



"Why should it be?" Caroline demanded. "There was 
never any talk of marriage between us." 

"Not in so many words, maybe. Well, I just didn't want 
him to catch you unawares, as much for his sake as yours. 
As cousins go, he's less obnoxious than most of mine." 

"But he must know there was nothing between us! That 
was before my last year at school." 

"It was only a year ago last summer," Rosemary re- 
minded. "And Russell's not the type who forgets quickly." 

Caroline laughed impatiently. "Oh, nonsense, Rose- 
mary. I did see a lot of him that summer, I know. But 
heavens, Russell is so shy he never even tried to kiss me." 

"Still water runs deep," said Rosemary ominously. "You 
know your uncle always thought Russell might be a priest 
till you took up with him." 

"If he ever had any such intention, I'm sure I couldn't 
have stopped him," Caroline protested; but nevertheless 
the charge made her uncomfortable. She did not like her- 
self in the role of worldly temptress interfering with a 
possible vocation merely to further her own plans. 

"I hope you're right. But Russell has always been so 
sensitive, you know on account of being the younger 
son, I suppose, with Larry so popular and inheriting the 
saloon business and everything." 

"That reminds me," said Caroline, more than ready to 
change the subject. "I don't suppose Larry will be back 
in time, but I've been thinking of inviting Irma to my 
wedding breakfast." 

"Irma? She didn't ask you to hers/' 

"Oh, well," said Caroline tolerantly, "with Larry going 
away the next week, it was quite hectic, like all those war 
weddings. But I've always been very fond of Irma Hart- 

6 



man. Remember how I worked to elect her secretary of 
our class at Mount Carmel?" 

"But you were keeping your breakfast list so exclusive. 
Won't you have to cut out one of those you were 
considering?" 

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact." Caroline toyed with the 
box in her hand. "I'm afraid I won't have room for poor 
Loretta Jordan." 

Rosemary laughed aloud at that. 

"Listen, dear, this is Rosemary, your old Trinity room- 
matel Why didn't you tell me all, instead of going on 
about your beautiful friendship for Irma? Toor Loretta' 
is right, after that nice shower she gave for you." 

"I hope I can invite whom I wish to my own wedding 
breakfast," said Caroline coldly. 

"But after all, Carrie, it's not Loretta's fault that she's 
Bert Jordan's sister." 

"Rosemary, please!" Caroline frowned and pressed her 
lips together. Even for an intimate friend and prospective 
maid of honor, Rosemary sometimes went too far. "When 
I confided in you about that unfortunate affair, I asked 
you never again to mention it or Bert Jordan to me." 

"Oh, act your age! You must be over him now as much as 
you ever will be. You were just saying how long it was since 
you went with Russell that was the same spring Bert first 
took up with the too, too blue-blooded Miriam Keith." 

"You don't have to remind me!" Never would Caroline 
forget the bitter humiliation of that Easter vacation, when 
she first realized that even a brilliant Trinity junior could 
not compete with a genuine debutante in Bert's judicious 
favor. "Well, at least no one ever knew the position it left 
me in." 



"Naturally not, with Russell around for you to be 
seen with/* 

"Anyway, I should be glad things worked out as they 
did/* said Caroline virtuously. "Since Bert is the kind of 
man who'll give up his religion to marry money." 

"Even that wouldn't have helped if it wasn't for the 
war," Rosemary observed. "Lieutenant Jordan, Lakeport's 
hero, sounds a lot different from Bert Jordan, the good- 
looking clerk in old Keith's bank." 

"I prefer to forget the whole thing. Though I do think 
he could have kept his faith and that Keith girl, too, if 
only he'd played his cards right." Or better still, she 
thought, if Bert had only waited, he and she might have 
scaled the Lakeport heights together. Though scarcely 
comparable to the Keith millions, the Straubmeyer brew- 
ery f ortune was one of the largest of its kind in the city. 

Rosemary laughed incredulously. "Now, Carrie! You 
know as well as I do, those dear Episcopalian souls that 
call themselves Lakeport society would rather have one 
of their children marry a Holy Roller than a Catholic." 

"Yes, but things may be different now," Caroline ar- 
gued. This was a subject dear to her heart dearer than 
even Rosemary guessed. "Even in Lakeport, nothing can 
ever be quite the same as before the war. Why shouldn't 
Catholics come into their own here? You remember some 
of those girls at school whose families were right at the 
top in Washington? Even in New York " 

"They're Tammany politicians' daughters and this is a 
Democratic administration," Rosemary countered. "Be- 
sides, the war is over now, and if you ask me, good old 
Lakeport is going to leave Catholics right on their nice 
little shelves." 

8 



"We'll see/ 7 said Caroline, confident that the local social 
citadel could no longer resist the combined forces of 
money, brains, and supreme determination. "At least, 
when this Prohibition law goes into effect, 111 no longer 
be known as a brewery heiress." 

"Does a soft-drink heiress sound any better?" asked 
Rosemary. "Honestly, though, wouldn't it jar you, the 
way those A.PA.'s are worrying now about the boys be- 
coming drunkards the same ones that didn't mind a bit 
using them for cannon fodder? What's left of the brewery 
certainly won't be much of a career for Frank, will it?" 

"That's just it. We all want him to finish at St. Ignatius 
and be a lawyer, like George Hartman, but after those 
months at camp he just doesn't seem to care about college. 
Of course, once we get back to normalcy, the business will 
still give him enough to make him quite a catch for some 

girl" 

"Carrie, you're as subtle as the Kaiser! I know you've 
tried, but you couldn't force me down Frank's throat with 
a shoehorn. It might have been different if Peter had come 
back from the war, but 111 always be just a big sister to 
Frank." 

"Well, you could do worse," said Caroline. "So could 
he and he probably will. Is that the doorbell?" 

"I don't know who it could be at this time. Dad has 
his key." 

In a moment the maid appeared. 

"It's Private Carmody, Miss Rosemary Mr. Russell." 

"For heaven's sake, Rosemary!" cried Caroline. "You 
didn't ask him here!" 

"Of course not! But maybe it's just as well. He's got to 
know sooner or later." 

9 



Caroline let Rosemary precede her down the stairs, 
mentally lacking herself for ever having come over. It was 
perfectly true that Russell had never meant anything to 
her, but, looking back, she could see how a different im- 
pression might have been made. After all, in that hectic 
summer of 1917 one said almost anything to cheer the 
boys on their way. Even then she had known that once 
back in Washington she would bring young Dr. Murray 
to the proposal point but she could hardly explain that 
to Russell, She did wish, though, that someone had at least 
written to him about her engagement. Her own letters, 
though noncommittal, had never changed their warmly 
interested tone. 

Standing at the foot of the stairs, he looked too young 
for his uniform, with his boyishly sensitive face and those 
strangely expressive dark eyes the very opposite of 
freckled, sunny, dependable Bob. Amid hearty greetings, 
Russell gave Rosemary a cousinly kiss, and then turned 
to Caroline with one scarcely as warm. Caroline knew she 
should have been relieved, but somehow she felt a little 
disappointed. Even if Russell noticed the ring on the third 
finger of her left hand (it was Bob's Georgetown ring, 
made over), no doubt he thought it was her own from 
Trinity. 

"I called your house and your mother said you were 
here, Caroline, so I came right over," he explained. 

"I'm glad to see you looking so well, Russell/' said 
Caroline. She remained standing, so as not to be trapped 
into a prolonged stay. 

"And you're looking even prettier than I remembered," 
he said with a heartiness that fell quite flat. "Over there, 
when things got especially bad, sometimes I used to pic- 

10 



ture you just the way you looked that last day at the 
station." 

"You must tell me about it some time," Caroline smiled. 
"But right now I really must be going. I was just going to 
leave when we heard the bell ring, wasn't I, Rosemary?" 

"Were you?" said Rosemary. "All right, then, I'll get 
your invitations." 

"Invitations for what?" asked Russell. 

"Rosemary will tell you/' said Caroline weakly, putting 
off the evil moment. She was already adjusting her hat 
before the mirror. 

"You didn't think I'd let you walk home alone, did you?" 
Russell was holding her cape for her. 

"Oh, please don't bother, Russell! You and Rosemary 
must have lots of things to talk about family things " 

"They can wait. You're the one I've got to talk to," said 
Russell gravely. 

Of all things in the world, Caroline wanted least to be 
left alone with Russell, without even Rosemary to back 
her up. But Rosemary looked grimly pleased as she bade 
them good night. 

Russell took Caroline's arm as they walked down the 
street. In her other arm, the box of invitations felt like a 
dagger pressing into her breast. How could she ever tell 
him? Yet even now something within her was rising, not 
unpleasantly, to meet this supreme challenge to her poise 
and tact. Her sisterly frankness, touched with just the 
right shade of gentle regret, would be a model for any 
woman in such circumstances. Russell, so to speak, would 
never know what hit him, so easily would he be let down. 

"I can hardly believe I'm really back in Lakeport," he 
was saying. "I've dreamed of it so often it doesn't seem 

11 



real and still, in a way, it's more real than all those 
months of nightmare in France. It's just like taking up 
life where I left off" 

Russell's introspective musings had always bored her. 
Taking her cue from his last words, Caroline broke in, 
"But people can't just take up where they left off. Things 
change " 

"That's very true, Caroline," Russell agreed. "I'm glad 
you see it that way. It makes what I have to say 
easier." He paused uncomfortably and began anew. "Girls 
never paid much attention to me, you know not like 
they did to Larry or Bert Jordan. I was more than flattered 
to know that you'd even want to go out with me. That 
summer is something I'll never forget. To me you'll always 
mean everything sweet and kind and wholesome all the 
things I'll remember about Lakeport and my school days 
home and back parlors and Mass on First Fridays . , ." 

"Yes, Russell?" Caroline prompted, wondering what he 
could possibly be driving at in this bewildering way. The 
situation was not developing at all as she had planned. 

"Well, frankly, that's all you'll mean." Russell took a 
deep breath. "Try not to let this hurt too much, Caroline, 
but, you see, the priesthood is my real vocation. I suppose 
I always knew it deep down, but then when you came 
along I was confused for a while. Maybe it was like a test 
for me. Anyway, over there in the trenches I got to see 
things clearly again." 

'The priesthood?" Caroline echoed feebly, completely 
let down by this anticlimax. 

"Yes. The world is going to need priests now as it sel- 
dom has before, and I want to be one of them, at least 
trying to do some real good. I know you'll understand, 

12 



Caroline, you're so kind yourself. I only hope nothing I 
said ever led you to think we " 

Caroline scarcely attended his words, her thoughts in a 
whirl of incredulous indignation. Here was Russell trying 
to spare her feelings! She would show him who had given 
up whom. 

"In that case, you may as well know now, Russell." Her 
voice cut through his like a cold, steel knife. "These invi- 
tations here are for my wedding. I'm going to be married 
Easter Monday/' 

"Married!" Russell sounded even more stunned than 
she had hoped. "But Caroline, who? I thought you 
expected " 

Caroline's words flowed freely now that the worst was 
out. 

"Dr. Robert Murray. You wouldn't know him. He grad- 
uated from Georgetown Med School my second year at 
Trinity. Some heart ailment kept him out of the draft, so 
he finished his intern work last summer, and now he's 
practicing here. We're going to live in St. Charles Bor- 
romeo, that new parish on the north side " 

"I wouldn't have believed it!" Russell was saying softly, 
as if he had not heard a single word. "And you never said 
a thing about it in your letters nor let anyone elsel" 

"We didn't want to worry you." 

"Worry me? So you would have let me go right on 
thinking and planning as if nothing had changed!'* 

"You didn't though, did you?" Caroline cut in. "It seems 
to me I might make the same complaint about this sudden 
vocation of yours. How did you know how I'd take that?" 

"Caroline, I wasn't even sure myself till recently. Not 
even my family knows yet; you're the first one. That's why 

IS 



I wanted to see you tonight. I knew it wouldn't really hurt 
you, because I never meant that much to you." 

"That's not the point!" Caroline kept the offensive. "Ob- 
viously I never meant anything to you either. So there's 
no reason to act as if I'd done you some great wrong/' 

"There is such a thing as common decency, Caroline/' 
Russell protested. "Even though it wasn't anything real I 
felt for you, I thought it was at the time and so did you. 
Otherwise you would never have led me on the way you 
did especially when Bert Jordan was around/' 

"What do you mean by that?" The catch in her voice 
gave her away, Caroline realized, even as she spoke. 

"You know what I mean, Caroline." Russell's voice was 
maddeningly calm even gentle, as if he were already 
her confessor. "Rosemary tried to drop me a few hints, 
but I just couldn't believe you'd do anything quite so 
cold-blooded. I see now, though. You needed someone 
right here in Lakeport to be seen with until you could 
make sure of the doctor, didn't you?" 

"I don't have to listen to this!" Caroline began walking 
ahead. 

"You might as well." Russell easily caught up with her. 
"You know, I'm really beginning to understand you for 
the first time. This poor Murray must be serving his pur- 
pose just as I did mine. To think I might have been the 
lucky man to spite Bert! Now I'm sure my vocation must 
be providential." 

"If you can call it that." Furious, Caroline took refuge 
in open sneers. "Anyone would think you were a poor 
loser, the way you're taking on. It it wouldn't surprise 
me if you heard about my engagement from someone else 
and then made up this Vocation' just to beat me to it!" 

14 



The quiet contempt of Russell's look made her imme- 
diately regret having gone so far. He did not even stoop 
to answer the accusation, and in her heart she could not 
doubt his sincerity. That, in fact, was what made the 
whole thing so humiliating. Russell was jealous neither of 
Bert nor of Bob, as she would have liked to believe; he 
had actually chosen the Church in preference to her, and 
was reproving her conduct only on ethical grounds. Con- 
trolling her bitterness with difficulty, Caroline tried to 
smooth her way out of the situation. 

"You know you don't mean all those unkind things, 
Russell. You're just upset tonight. YouTl feel differently in 
another few days." 

"It's not a question of feeling," said Russell, still with 
that deadly calm. "Except in the sense that I'm sorry to 
lose the last of my boyish illusions about the only one 
I brought back with me." 

"Well, then, what are we being so unpleasant about?" 

"Don't you see, Caroline, this could just as easily have 
happened to some poor young fellow who really was in 
love with you? What shocks me is to know you're capable 
of doing that to anyone." 

"I'm sorry, Russell. Let's not say any more about it, 
shall we?** 

"It's not quite that easy, Caroline." They had reached 
the Straubmeyer house by now, but Russell evidently did 
not intend to leave without finishing what he had to say. 
"Once a person's eyes are opened, you can never shut 
them again." 

"All right, then, have it your own way. Good night, 
RusseU." 

"You still don't realize what you've done to yourself 



more than to anyone else." Russell spoke in the mild, 
patient tone of one trying hard to make his meaning clear. 
"You've made the mistake of letting someone see through 
you completely for once. Even if it's only me, that wasn't 
wise, Caroline." 

"Couldn't we talk about this some other time, Russell? 
It's quite late -" 

*I don't want to talk about it ever again. But I do want 
you to remember what I said. If you manage well, no one 
else may ever get the chance to see you as you really are, 
the way I have tonight. But I'll never see you any other 
way. You'll probably go very far as Dr. Murray's wife, 
but to me you'll always be " he paused, and in the half- 
light from the street she could see his tolerant, ironic 
smile "the brewery heiress who wasn't quite clever 
enough to land Bert Jordan. Good night, Caroline." 

For a moment she stood on the porch, speechless with 
rage, as Russell's footsteps grew fainter along the street. 
The cool detachment of his words stung her far more than 
anger. If he had broken down, shouted, stormed, she 
could have succeeded in putting him in the wrong. Then 
would have followed the graceful renunciation scene in 
which she would promise always to look upon him as a 
friend. She would have been equal to anything but this 
dispassionate character analysis, the more humiliating 
because it was so undeniable. 

She was still trembling with tension as she unlocked the 
door, but already Vanity was beginning to lick its wounds. 
Even if the mirror Russell had held up to her was not 
really distorted, it was only his own narrow view that 
made the likeness so unflattering. In Bob's eyes, as in 
everyone else's who mattered, she could always see the 

Ifl 



reflection of the self she liked best the clever, popular 
Trinity graduate about to marry the man of her choice. 

Brewery heiress, indeed! A wave of fresh anger swept 
over her, and a dozen cutting retorts sprang to her lips 
too late. How dare Russell preach to her! Why had she 
let him talk to her that way? And a saloonkeeper's son, 
at that 

As if to reassure herself that all was indeed right with 
the world, she switched on a lamp in the darkened hall, 
and, taking out an invitation, read again those beautifully 
engraved, magically consoling words. Yes, there it was in 
black and white: "their daughter Caroline Louise ... to 
Dr. Robert Emmett Murray . . . Monday morning, the 
twenty-first of April, nineteen-hundred and nineteen . . ." 

Yes, let Russell mock, she thought. Hers would be the 
last laugh. Nothing could stop her now from getting what 
she wanted. She would show Russell, Bert, all Lakeport 
that she was no one to trifle with. Carrie Straubmeyer 
would soon be forgotten in the general admiration for 
Mrs. Robert Emmett Murray. What was that familiar line 
that expressed it so well? Oh, yes. "There is a tide in the 
affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to for- 
tune." This was hers, and she was taking it. 

"Ill show them all!" she promised herself. "Now's the 
time to get somewhere in this city, and I'm the one that 
can do it. No one'll ever dare call me brewery heiress' 
again!" 



17 



Chapter 1 



"YOU mean you're not going to play golf with Frank 
today?" Slimly correct at forty-three even distinguished, 
with hair prematurely white and ice-blue eyes framed by 
oxford pince-nez, Caroline faced her husband across their 
luncheon table. "What's the use of being Health Com- 
missioner if you can't even have a Sunday afternoon to 
yourself?" 

"It's about the only chance I ever get to see any of my 
old patients/' said Bob. His sandy hair was thinning, but 
otherwise he looked younger than Caroline, so that she 
was always careful to explain how much older he really 
was. "After all, they'll mean our bread and butter again 
next fall if the election doesn't go our way." 

"Well, don't forget, Mama and Papa expect us at six." 
Irritated by thoughts of what a mere political accident 
might do, Caroline said aloud, "Boys, must you wolf your 
ice cream that way! You don't want to be sick for tonight, 
do you?" 

"Sorry, Mother," Paul grinned. 

"After four years of that St. Ignatius High cafeteria, 
nothing could make us sick," laughed Peter at the same 
time. Tall, good-looking, with the straight, fair hair of the 
Straubmeyers, the Murray twins at eighteen were still 
indistinguishable to strangers, but despite the same abrupt 
nose and widely spaced blue eyes, Peter's boyishly 

18 



freckled face was somewhat less rounded and ruddy 
than Paul's. 

"Even that Communion breakfast this morning wasn't 
so hot," Paul added. "The speaker was darn good, though." 

"Oh, yes, Mother, we forgot to tell you, it was that 
Father Carmody from Loyola, that's rekted to Janet" 

"Oh, really?'' said Caroline. "I didn't know he was in 
town." 

In such a busy week she could scarcely be expected to 
keep up with every trifling bit of news. When Russell had 
gone off to become a Jesuit, Caroline would have liked 
people to think it was as a balm for blighted love, just as 
in an F. Marion Crawford novel, but Rosemary's explana- 
tion was less romantic. It seemed evident that he had 
always had a vocation for the priesthood itself, and to one 
of his intellectual, book-loving nature, the distinguished 
teaching order offered the most congenial possible reli- 
gious life. And Rosemary must have known about such 
things, for it was less than a year later that she herself, 
to Caroline's greater surprise, had given up a school ap- 
pointment to join the convent, 

"He certainly gave us a nice, snappy little talk/' Peter 
observed. 

"Say, Dad, you're going to cut your speech short 
tonight, aren't you?" asked Paul. "In this kind of weather, 
the fellows wfll lynch us if they have to sit there too long 
waiting for their diplomas." 

"Don't worry." The doctor's gray eyes twinkled. "Itll 
hurt me more than it does you. I wouldn't have accepted 
at all if the principal were any one but Father McGrath. 
He was still a scholastic when he taught me at George- 
town, but I'll never forget the time " 

19 



"Now, dearl" Caroline put down her iced coffee. "We're 
not going to make our boys unhappy by talking any more 
about Georgetown, are we, after deciding it's quite out 
of the question for them?" 

"Aw, Mother!" Peter began to renew the familiar 
plea. "Isn't there any chance of changing your mind 
about that?" 

"All the kids naturally thought we'd go there on account 
of Dad," Paul put in. 

"Then you must have given them that idea," said 
Caroline. "When it's time for you to go to professional 
school, Tve no doubt Georgetown will be the best place. 
But let's not spoil your graduation day by arguing any 
more about it. You know there's no earthly reason to go 
out of town when we have St. Ignatius College right here 
in the city." 

"Registration, seven hundred! No wonder they say If 
you can't go to college, go to St. Ignatius.' " 

"That's not at all funny, Peter." At the moment Caroline 
felt that she would hardly mind sending Peter out of 
town to college, though she could never let Paul go so 
easily. "You'll get exactly the same Jesuit training there 
as you'd get at Georgetown or Fordham or Holy Cross." 

"But St. Ignatius plays its football games on Sunday" 
Paul protested. 

"And their schedule sounds like a list of the Joyful 
Mysteries. Annunciation, Assumption, Nativity who 
ever heard of their teams?" 

"If that's all you're thinking about, why not pick 
Notre Dame?" Caroline gave an impatient little laugh. 
"But since neither of you plays football, I don't see what 
difference all this makes." 

20 



"Those things make a lot of difference at their age/' 
said Bob. "But as you say, we settled the whole thing 
weeks ago." 

"Just think how lucky you are to be going on to college 
at all." Caroline had found this an effective point before, 
first in persuading Bob and then the boys to her way of 
thinking. "Look at poor Joe Militello, working in that 
soda fountain all summer, while you have a lovely new 
summer home to enjoy." 

"That's the only time you ever have a good word for 
Joe, Mother, when you're using him as a shining example 
to us," smiled Peter in that humorous vein of his that 
Caroline somehow did not enjoy. "YouVe never forgiven 
him for getting elected class president." 

"I wonder how we'll like Sunrise Point," said Paul, his 
facile mind more easily diverted. 

"It's always been a pretty ritzy place," the doctor ob- 
served. "I only hope you'll have as much fun there as 
you've always had with the young crowd at Crystal Bay." 

"Of course they will!" Caroline said as she rose from 
the table. "You know how common the Bay has been 
getting of late years. The rent at Sunrise Point is really 
cheaper, considering the nicer class of boys and girls 
theyTl meet " 

"Some of those babes from Lakeport Sem do look pretty 
nice, at that," Paul agreed. "Did you get an eyeful of that 
Jordan doll in the paper this morning, Pete?" 

"How could I miss her? Ill bet you have her dated the 
first night we get to Sunrise, you wolf!" 

"Could be." A grin of perfect understanding passed be- 
tween the boys as they followed their parents into the 
living room and sprawled on the sofa to finish the Sunday 

21 



comics. The room, done in shades of blue and white, 
looked as neat, handsome, and conventional as its mistress. 

Strange, she was thinking, to hear my boys talking like 
that about Bert Jordan's daughter. 

'Well, I'll be getting over to the office." Dr. Murray 
took his panama hat from the front closet. "I'll stop by 
for you kids about five-thirty. You'll be with Irma, won't 
you, Caroline?" 

"Yes, we're coming right over from the tea." 

"Don't forget, we get the car tonight!" Paul called after 
his departing father. 

Taking some newspapers and a large scrapbook from a 
lower drawer of her secretary, Caroline sat down at the 
desk and spread them out before her. Bringing her press 
clippings up to date was usually left till Sunday, for her 
well-filled weekdays afforded little leisure. Neatly, she 
scored each item and removed it with the curiously dag- 
ger-shaped letter opener that had been Russell's wedding 
gift. His accompanying message: "I'm sure you'll find 
many uses for this," she had torn up, but not without 
amusement. Russell had not lost his sense of humor. 

Indeed, they had met quite casually several times be- 
fore he left for the novitiate house, again a few years later 
when as a scholastic he was teaching at St. Ignatius High, 
and, of course, at the gala reception at which the Carmody 
connections had outdone themselves on the occasion of 
his first solemn high Mass. Caroline never felt quite at 
ease with personalities she suspected to be more complex 
than her own, but after all, since she had tacitly forgiven 
him for that cruel scene the night of his return from the 
war, she supposed the least he could do was to "forgive" 
her for whatever he fancied she had done. 

22 



But it was of another phase of Russell's reception that 
Caroline was reminded now, as she surveyed her clippings 
of the past week from the Rosary Society breakfast she 
had addressed last Sunday morning to the St. Ignatius 
Mothers' bridge luncheon held under her chairmanship 
yesterday afternoon. Even in those early years when her 
ambitions had been bounded only by Lakeport itself, she 
had been drawn by Bob's position on the St. Vincent de 
Paul Hospital staff into all the more fashionable forms of 
Catholic action but reluctantly then. Was not her reli- 
gion, or at least the background it implied, the very thing 
that made every advantage useless as keys to the "best" 
circles? In Lakeport to be Catholic meant at best to be 
newly rich, to be descended from nineteenth-century im- 
migrants, usually German or Irish, and therefore to be 
forever beneath the notice of those whose ancestors, 
younger branches of the old Puritan lines, had come on 
from New England to found the city. Caroline had learned 
this the hard way, in those years of constant frustration 
and hidden disappointments, which she still blamed for 
whitening her hair. 

At Russell's reception, however, impressed by the nu- 
merous political and financial powers present, Caroline 
could not fail to see that it was precisely because the old, 
colonial-bred families had lost their material control of 
the city that they stiffened those invisible barriers against 
which she had beaten her wings so long in vain. Because 
Lakeport had become a Catholic city in every other sense, 
they were all the more determined that it should never 
become one socially. Thus Catholics themselves were far 
less solidly united than this Protestant minority, for then- 
large cross section of the population could be classed to- 

28 



gether only in the Church Universal. Otherwise what had 
Irish and Germans, comfortable for a generation or two, 
in common with the more recently immigrated, still strug- 
gling Italians and Poles? The Polish indeed were numer- 
ous and self-sufficient enough to form virtually a city of 
their own, but those pushing Italians Caroline could not 
abide. 

Yet if it was impossible to move even as a commoner 
among Lakeport's self-appointed queens, surely to be 
queen over such a powerful body of commoners was a very 
good next best thing. Sensing all this by instinct rather 
than by analysis, Caroline with true Straubmeyer effi- 
ciency lost no time in realizing the full possibilities of her 
position in what had come to be called "Catholic society." 
Typical of her present activities was the last clipping she 
pasted in: 

The annual tea of the Mount Cannel Alumnae Associa- 
tion in honor of the graduating class, to be held Sunday 
afternoon at three in the Academy in West Virginia 
Street, will be in charge of the Class of 1914, in accord- 
ance with the silver anniversary tradition, Mrs. R Ern- 
met Murray, the chairman, has announced. As president 
of the class, Mrs. Murray will head the reception com- 
mittee, assisted by members of the faculty, including 
Sister M. Marcella Quinn, also a class officer. The other 
officers, Hon. Mrs. George J. Hartman and Mrs. Frank X. 
Straubmeyer, will preside at the urns, assisted in serving 
by members of the junior class . . , 

But Caroline could not put her scrapbook away without 
a glance at the articles inserted two weeks ago on the 
opposite page. Of course, golden weddings were only too 
common in her parents' plain-living, German circle, as the 
rather perfunctory accounts in the three daily papers tes- 
tified, but other such couples, even old Mr. and Mrs. 

24 



Hartman, never received such notice in the Catholic 
Herald, diocesan weekly. Though few people nowadays 
associated Mrs. Murray, Catholic clubwoman par excel- 
lence, with the Straubmeyer brewery fortune ( and as far 
as she was concerned, the fewer the better), she scarcely 
minded the necessary explanations in so glowing a tribute 
to her family. Nor was she averse to such public proof that 
she was not really as old as her hair might indicate. 

To be sure, Uncle Francis was now Vicar-General of 
the diocese, and Frank as much through his own im- 
portance as a businessman since Repeal as through the 
influence of his brother-in-law George Hartman had be- 
come Democratic County Chairman. But Caroline felt in 
all modesty that the elder Straubmeyers owed no small 
part of their publicity to the happy circumstance of being 
her parents. Indeed, though the secular press was co- 
operative enough, in the Herald the distinguished name 
of Mrs. R. Emmett Murray appeared at least as often as 
the bishop's. 

Only when a familiar auto horn interrupted her reading 
did Caroline realize that her sister-in-law was late. From 
the refrigerator she retrieved the white violets carefully 
saved from yesterday's luncheon, and pinned them on 
before the hall mirror. A corsage, she felt, always lent a 
pleasant touch of formality to any occasion. Then she 
added a quick touch of lipstick, and powdered her pinked 
cheeks a little more. The straw sailor hat she tilted on her 
neatly waved, silvery (thanks to a monthly "sapphire 
rinse") bob completed her blue and white ensemble. 

She liked to wear the Blessed Virgin's colors, she always 
said, having been born in May. Although all were aware 
of how well she looked, few people remembered that this 

25 



pious custom had been adopted only since her hair had 
turned white. Like other handicaps she could not effec- 
tively conceal, white hair had now been turned to her 
advantage. 

"Ill see you at Grandma's, boys/' she said from tlie 
doorway. "Don't forget to bring along your white coats to 
wear when you go dancing afterward." 

"Is Janet with Aunt Irma?" asked Peter. "I want to tell 
her about tonight " 

"There's no time now. You'll see her at dinner. Good-by, 
dears." 

As Caroline approached the car, Janet Straubmeyer 
stepped out. Her stepfather's surname was in startling 
contrast to the girl's appearance, for at seventeen she was 
growing into the dark Irish beauty of the Carmodys, her 
real father's family. 

"Hello, Aunt Caroline," she smiled. "Are the twins all 
excited about graduating?" 

"No, they haven't any more nerves than I have," 
laughed Caroline, getting into the front seat beside her 
sister-in-law. "Well, Irma, I've been wondering what was 
keeping you/' 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Carrie." 

Would she never learn to call her Caroline? The drab, 
mousy little daughter of a German grocer, Irma Hartman 
had been very lucky to get one husband, much less two, 
Caroline always thought. That the second one happened 
to be Frank was certainly none of Caroline's doing. 

"Sister Regina from our convent the Hurley girl, you 
know/* she was explaining, "wanted to visit her mother 
this after, so I dropped her and another nun off there first." 

Caroline said nothing. It was all very well to accommo- 

26 



date the good sisters now and then., but women who made 
a practice of it, like Irma, only ended by neglecting more 
important things. 

"How many juniors did you get to help with the sand- 
wiches?" she asked, turning to Janet. 

"Five, besides me," said the girl. 

"That ought to be enough. Not half the alumnae 
ever show up anyway, even when their own class is 
entertaining." 

"I thought maybe you'd beg off this after," said Irma, 
"with the boys graduating and all." 

"Oh, I wouldn't disappoint the girls. I hope I still have 
that much school spirit left." 

Leaving the elm-shaded streets of St. Charles' (with 
the added dignity of years still smartest of the city's 
eighty-odd parishes), they drove down the west side, 
toward a once Irish section that corresponded to the 
Flower Bed on the other side of Main Street but which had 
declined far more noticeably. Every second house seemed 
to have been turned into a barber shop, a fruit stand, or 
a tavern since the foreigners had taken over, thought 
Caroline. 

As they neared the rambling, red-brick Mount Carmel 
Academy, considered so handsome when built in the 
1870's, she wished more than ever that these nuns would 
show the enterprise, say, of the Madames of the Sacred 
Heart, whose Stella Maris Seminary, opened some years 
ago in a smart northern suburb overlooking the lake, 
now drew the clientele that had once favored the Mount. 
Graduates of this institution generally called "the Sem" 
to distinguish it from the adjoining college of the same 
name did not mind in the least being mistaken for those 

27 



of the century-old, nonsectarian Lakeport Seminary, how- 
ever they might jeer at the latter as "Lakeport Cemetery." 

Such were Caroline's thoughts as Irma parked the car, 
and their little party climbed the stone stairway trod by 
three generations of schoolgirls, Though Mount Cannel 
was the oldest and still the largest of Lakeport's half-dozen 
Catholic academies, its emphasis upon tradition rather than 
innovation had, Caroline feared, left her alma mater far 
down the scale of fashion below even the Mercy Order's 
St. Ellen's, which served the Irish girls at the south end of 
the city, and not far above Holy Spirit, on the east side, 
where Felician nuns taught the daughters of well-to-do 
Poles. 

Parents like Irma were often as vague as the sisters 
themselves about how the various academies were rated, 
but Caroline did not need Paul to tell her that eligible 
boys recognized these distinctions as clearly as the girls 
who made them; so why Janet should want to come here, 
Caroline could only wonder. Of course, that was just like 
Irma. Even though she and Frank lived at the correct end 
of the city, on Crescent Parkway, like Caroline and Bob, 
their home was east of Main Street hence not in St. 
Charles' parish, but on the northern outskirts of old St. 
Henry's. 

Irma's nostalgic comment, "It doesn't change a bit, does 
it?" was only too true, thought Caroline, as they walked 
through the familiar corridor, past statues of saints and 
portraits of Lakeport's early bishops, to the school audi- 
torium. The chairs had been changed for the day from 
rows to more casual arrangements; and at the end of the 
room a long table was set with a large coffee urn at one 
end, tea service at the other, and stacks of china between. 

28 



Sister M. Marcella Qriirm at once detached herself from 
a cluster of junior assistants. Somehow the black habit and 
severe white wimple made her pointed features look not 
old but ageless. Her eyebrows were still sandy, and if her 
once red hair had turned gray, at least no one knew the 
difference, thought Caroline. 

"Hello, Irma! Caroline! Janet dear, run over and help 
fix the sandwiches on those trays, will you? The caterer 
never delivered them till half an hour ago.** 

"Isn't Loretta here yet?" asked Caroline. She could 
seldom bring herself to call Rosemary "Sister.** 

"No, but no one will be arriving just yet, anyway, or if 
any one does, you and Irma can start pouring/* Sister 
Marcella led them over to the table, where Irma seated 
herself behind the tea service though Caroline had no 
intention of taking the corresponding place at the coffee. 
"Did the twins tell you, Carrie, I ran into them one day 
last week at the main library? I could hardly believe 
they're graduating from high school.** 

"Oh, yes, with honors, too," said Caroline. 

"Won't it be grand for Bob,** the nun went on, "having 
Peter a doctor, to help him out when he gets back to 
private practice?** 

"Of course, I thought it would be nice if Peter were 
going to be a lawyer, in partnership with Paul," Caroline 
admitted, "but it's what he wants that counts.** 

She sincerely believed that she loved both her sons 
equally well, and that it was only a sense of justice that 
made her put in a word for Paul whenever someone 
praised Peter. After all, any mother liked to insure proper 
appreciation for the child who most resembled her. 

"How's your degree coming, Sister?** Irma was asking. 

29 



"Oh, slow as ever. I'm practically a fixture in those St. 
Ignatius extension courses. But after this summer session 
111 need only six more hours and my thesis." 

It must be hard," said Inna - with the naivete of a 
person who had not gone to college, thought Caroline. 

"Oh, no," laughed the nun, "just monotonous. Most of 
those education courses are full of football players who 
couldn't pass anything else. But even when I do get my 
Master's, Mother Celestine threatens to send me down to 
Catholic University for a Ph.D." 

"How nice, to be so close to Trinity again," said Caro- 
line, lest anyone forget the Trinity degree that set her off 
from mere alumnae of the Mount. 

Td really rather teach here, though/' 

That was the sort of attitude that left Rosemary right 
where she was, with all her brains, thought Caroline. 

"Hello, girls, sorry to be so late!" Loretta Hartman 
bustled across the room. Even in her plump and florid for- 
ties she was a pleasant-faced woman, obviously pretty not 
so long ago though her brother Bert had really had all 
the looks of the Jordan family, Caroline always thought. 
But at least Loretta never let George's office go to her 
head, Caroline would say that for her; in fact, some people 
might think the wife of Lakeport's mayor ought to be a 
little more well, dignified. 

"Another of those official luncheons, you know/' she 
explained, taking her place at the coffee urn. Her indiffer- 
ence to the social demands of her position was not as- 
sumed, Caroline knew, but at times it did seem a trifle 
overdone. 'What a weekl All the places George had to 
appear, and then Pat graduating . . /' Loretta paused 
uncomfortably. 

SO 



"Where are you going to send her to college?" asked 
Sister Marcella, just as smoothly as if Pat were graduating 
from the Mount, like the daughters of most alumnae, 
instead of from Stella Maris Seminary. 

"We let her have her own way too much," said Loretta 
by way of apology, "but for once she seems to be making 
a sensible choice. Till lately it was a tossup between Man- 
hattanville and Trinity, but she's finally decided on Stella 
Maris, after all. George and I are so pleased, we even 
bought her that new convertible she's been wanting, for a 
graduation present." 

Smart girl, Pat, thought Caroline. No wonder she and 
Paul got along so well. At the local college, attended by 
most of the academy graduates who pursued any further 
education, Pat's diploma from the neighboring "Sem" 
would mean more in every way than it possibly could in 
another city. College out of town, Caroline knew but too 
well, was likely to rouse ambitions that could never be 
satisfied in Lakeport That was one reason why she wanted 
her boys to attend St. Ignatius, she told herself; that and 
a perfectly natural preference for a school in whose life 
she could more or less share as she had done in their 
parochial and high school days. 

The guests were beginning to arrive now mostly this 
year's graduates and women from the class of 1914, with 
only a sprinkling of those from other classes to be re- 
ceived first by Mother Celestine and the line of smiling 
nuns at the door and then passed on to the hostesses. With 
practiced urbanity Caroline dispensed gracious small talk 
as she led the alumnae over to the table, handed out cups 
and saucers, or kept the juniors circulating with the sand- 
wiches. These reunions, she decided, were getting almost 

31 



as common as the mothers* clubs, to which practically 
anyone could belong. If the Mount was still die largest 
academy, this was only because its low tuition made it the 
least discriminate. Caroline was especially appalled by the 
number of Italian girls among the more recent classes, and 
at the first opportunity said as much to Loretta. 

"That's this neighborhood for you," Loretta agreed. 
"Just what my Pat said three years ago when she made us 
transfer her to the Sem. Honest, kids nowadays know 
more than we do!" 

They stopped talking as a thin, swarthy girl, dressed 
far too loudly for the occasion, approached Irma's end of 
the table. 

"Say, Mrs. Staubmeyer," she said with a giggle that 
carried even beyond where Caroline stood, "don't us 
juniors get any tea to keep up our strength?" 

"Well, you certainly do, Rita." Irma smiled, filling a 
cup. "How many lumps? Oh, Carrie, come over here a 
minute! You ought to know this little girl. Mrs. Murray, 
this is Rita Militello the doctor's girl, you know." 

"Of course. How do you do, Rita?" Caroline walked 
over to meet her, but did not extend her hand. Surely Irma 
must know as well as she that Dr. Militello's appointment 
as Deputy Health Commissioner had been nothing but a 
political sop to the Italian voters, as loudly represented 
by two councilman of that nationality. That was no reason 
to treat his family like social equals. Even now the Mili- 
tellos just about made ends meet, Caroline had gathered, 
though they would keep all their countless children in 
Catholic schools at any cost. 

"I'm awful glad to meet you, Mrs. Murray." Rita grinned 
her wide, nervous grin, eyes shining like black shoe but- 

32 



tons. "My mother told me to look you up today if I got 
the chance/' 

"Did she?" said Caroline. Mrs. Militello never mingled 
with the other official wives as such; parish block parties 
and Friday night bingo were obviously her proper field. 
For her son Joe's sake, however, she had joined the St. 
Ignatius Mothers' Club, and only yesterday, at the bridge 
luncheon, had clung to Caroline like a long-lost sister, 
apparently presuming on their husbands' professional con- 
nection. No one but fat, greasy Mrs. Militello could have 
such a graceless daughter as the girl who stood before her, 
Caroline told herself. 

"Gee, I think it's just wonderful," Rita gushed on in 
English little better than her mother's, Caroline noted 
"all that stuff you do for Catholic action and everything." 

"Oh, no!" Smiling modestly, Caroline made her usual 
protest. "Not at all! I just try to do my part. I feel there's 
something everyone can do only some of us don't 
recognize it." 

"Well, gee, you certainly do!" Rita made the obvious 
response. "I always tell Janet how lucky she is having you 
for an aunt and those twins of yours for cousins. My 
brother Joe says . . ." 

The volatile temperament Caroline had learned to tol- 
erate in her Irish friends she still found quite insufferable 
in its less restrained form among Italians. Even the stolid, 
phlegmatic Poles were more like Germans, and they at 
least kept in their place. She was about to end the con- 
versation by the quickest possible means when Rita her- 
self broke off and rather hastily withdrew, apparently 
checked by the return of Sister Marcella to the table. 

"Were you getting the ear talked off of you?" asked the 

33 



nun with a smile. "Thank goodness all our girls aren't 
chatterboxes like Rita." 

"Oh, they're cute, most of them," Irma put in. "I was 
just thinking how sweet they all look. Much nicer than we 
did, with our hair bows and sailor suits." 

"It was strange, wasn't it," Sister Marcella observed, 
"that very Sunday the class of 1889 entertained for us, 
while we sat here planning out our lives, that Austrian 
archduke was assassinated. I wonder what devilment is 
brewing over there now." 

"Why? All the countries are sending exhibits to the 
World's Fair, aren't they?" said Caroline, to settle the sub- 
ject. Foreign affairs bored her. "Anyhow, we'd never let 
ourselves be dragged in again." 

"Maybe," said Sister Marcella as they walked back 
toward the coffee urn. "But I'll bet the King and Queen 
of England didn't come over here just for the trip. By the 
way, Loretta, you haven't told us how it felt to meet Their 
Britannic Majesties." 

"Oh, I'm afraid Pat got more of a kick out of it than 
George or I," laughed Loretta. "The Queen did seem very 
nice, but, of course, we were only talking there a few 
minutes at the train. What tickled me most was my dear 
sister-in-law Miriam having to call me up to see if I could 
have her presented." 

"How it must have galled her to do it," said Caroline 
with satisfaction, "after never keeping in touch with you 
since Bert died." 

She could say "since Bert died" quite casually now, 
without a ghost of the conflicting emotions she had felt 
that winter night in 1930, when lurid headlines shrieked 
to all Lakeport that Albert Jordan, prominent banker and 



clubman, had shot to death one Larry Carmody, believed 
to be his bootlegger, and then killed himself. A drunken 
quarrel over unpaid bills, everyone knew, for Bert had 
been drinking steadily since losing so much of Miriam's 
money in the market crash. 

Amid horrified pity deeper than anyone suspected, 
Caroline yet could not suppress a certain sense of triumph 
at the obvious futility of the life for which Bert had given 
up her and his religion. Secretly, she hoped that even the 
Keith prestige would not survive such an unsavory scan- 
dal, but in this she was disappointed; Miriam's position in 
Lakeport society was still unquestioned. 

Caroline wondered now if Inna, too, was reminded, for 
although she had been separated from Larry since shortly 
after Janet's birth, only the Jordan tragedy had at last 
freed her to marry Frank over Caroline's strenuous 
protests. 

"All I hope " Sister Marcella was restoring the con- 
versation to an international plane "is that the new Pope 
may be diplomat enough to prevent any trouble this time/' 

"Just the same," Loretta observed, "George was saying 
only this morning, with things in Europe the way they 
are, the party wouldn't dare even run anyone with a 
German name for mayor this year. You know how clannish 
the Polish are." 

Caroline had not thought of that before. Though by 
now Poles made up nearly a third of the city, they were 
mostly laborers and small businessmen, with professionals 
conspicuous by their rareness. In short, they were still in 
the position in which the Irish and German immigrants 
had found themselves two generations before, and from 
which the Italians were just emerging. Having developed 

35 



few leaders of their own as yet in proportion to their 
numbers, the Polish were ardently courted each fall by 
both major political parties, but otherwise they kept to 
themselves, set in their European customs and vitally in- 
terested in all that concerned Poland. 

"Surely Hartman isn't too German a name," Sister 
Marcella was saying 

"No," Loretta explained, "but don't forget, according to 
the city charter no mayor can succeed himself. So the 
party's in a spot. The Poles don't trust Irish Democrats, 
you know, after some of those deals Mayor Hogan pulled 
back in the Twenties, and we all know who the other big 
shots are Dieterle, Schenck, Reinhardt, and all the rest." 

"Well, that lets Frank out," said Irma cheerfully, over- 
hearing the conversation in a lull at her end of the table. 
"I was afraid he might run, and I know I could never 
stand the gaff the way you have, Loretta." 

"Don't think I won't be glad to be out of it! But 
George's administration has been so popular, the way we 
feel is, we'd hate to see the party lose out now just be- 
cause the Republicans can produce some descendant of 
the Pilgrim Fathers." 

"Frank says they'll break their necks to win this elec- 
tion, too,'" Irma added. "They think it'll be a test vote of 
the way the city'll go in the state and presidential elections 
next year/* 

Caroline's smile was fixed and her hand not quite 
steady as she passed a cup and saucer to someone she 
had no idea whom. The inspiration that had just come to 
her opened such a new world the one in which she had 
always belonged, really that she could scarcely contain 
herself. A candidate prominent in the party was needed, 



Loretta had said, with a name neither too German nor too 
Irish. Who, then, so suitable as Health Commissioner 
Murray, capable, well known, respected throughout the 
city? 

The infinite possibilities of the thing flashed through 
Caroline's mind in dazzling array. The position that Inna 
dreaded, that Loretta would toss carelessly aside, to her 
would offer opportunities denied for a lifetime. Surely 
Miriam's humbling herself to call Loretta was proof su- 
preme that those who slighted the mayor's wife only 
spited themselves. 

Caroline's intuitive desire to keep the twins in town 
had been more right than she knew. What an asset they 
would be, with their charm and popularity! She was not 
one to count her chickens before they were hatched; she 
had never even let herself toy with such an idea before. 
But here she felt sure, was her heaven-sent opportunity to 
become First Lady of Lakeport all Lakeport. There was 
a great deal to be done, of course. Still, given a fair 
chance, she had never lacked confidence in her own 
powers, and here everything was in her favor. Yes, she 
asked herself, why not? Why not indeed? 

Lost in such delightful plans, Caroline's attention to the 
rest of the tea became purely mechanical, until presently 
she noticed that people had begun to leave. No one should 
know Bob's abilities better than the man he had served 
as Health Commissioner, but still one could not make too 
sure, for without the mayors support no candidate would 
even get the nomination. She went toward Loretta with 
a smile of the most affectionate intimacy. 

"You mustn't neglect us this summer, you know/' she 
said, "just because well be a little farther out than Crystal 

37 



Bay, Bob and I were wondering only this morning what 
you and George are doing over the week end of the 
Fourth, We're moving out next Saturday the first/' 

"Well, we expect to fly down to the Fair for the week 
end itself. But then George has to be back Tuesday to 
make the usual speeches all over the city. Honest, I'll bet 
something will come up even to spoil our two weeks away 
in August/' 

"But couldn't you get away the evening of the Fourth?" 
Caroline persisted. "It's hardly thirty miles to Sunrise 
Point, you know." 

"Yes, I was out there once when Bert was alive. It's 
awfully nice of you to ask us, Caroline. Maybe we could 
drive out after dinner." 

"Well, if that's the best you can do!" Caroline beamed. 
"And be sure to bring dear Pat. Paul will love to have her." 

"And she'll love to come," Loretta added. "She usually 
likes to act bored with the boys, but I can tell she's tickled 
pink to be stepping out with Paul tonight." 

"Isn't that sweet? They seem to get along so well, too." 

"Yes, I think they make such a cute couple." 

The room was almost empty by now. When the last 
loiterers had left, Sister Marcella accompanied the three 
hostesses and Janet along the corridor toward the door. 

"Can we drop you anywhere, Loretta?" asked Inna 
foolishly, thought Caroline, for Loretta was not likely to 
be going their way. "I know you haven't got your car, 
'cause today was George's turn to drive Frank out to the 
country club." 

"Thanks, Irma, but Pat's picking me up here. Driving 
anywhere in the new convertible is still a novelty to her." 

"Well, I think the seniors ought to be very much 

38 



pleased with their tea," said Sister Marcella at the door. 
"It was lovely of you girls to run it off so nicely. By the 
way, I don't suppose any of you could come down 
Wednesday afternoon and help us arrange the flowers 
and things for commencement?** 

"Wednesday?" Caroline looked distressed. "Oh, I'm so 
sorry, that's the day the Catholic Charities Board meets, 
and, of course, being the first woman appointed, I don't 
know what the bishop would think if I missed that/' No 
need to explain that the meeting would be in the morn- 
ing; whatever she did with the afternoon would surely be 
more worth her while than helping a lot of nuns try to 
disguise the auditorium of this hopelessly outmoded 
school. "I will try to send some roses from our garden, 
though. 9 * 

"That's sweet of you, Carrie," said Sister Marcella. 

"I'm afraid I'm all tied up Wednesday, too," laughed 
Loretta, "with a meeting of the Lakeport Women's Society 
for the Prevention of Movies or some fool thing like that." 

"I'm not doing anything, Sister," said Irma. "I'd love 
to help." 

"Really, Irma," said Caroline as they walked down the 
outside stairs, "the things you do for those nuns! Aren't 
you afraid people will think you're trying to get a stand-in 
for Janet?" 

"Maybe I do help them too much/' said Irma, to 
whom the unpleasant thought had never occurred. 

"Don't worry, Mother." The look that Janet shot at 
Caroline was hardly that of a loving niece. "The kids 
know I don't need anyone to polish the apple for me." 

Displeased that the girl should show more spirit than 
her mother, Caroline wondered if it was from Janet that 

39 



Peter had picked up that independent way of questioning 
what his elders said. They were certainly together 
enough too much, in fact, though at present there 
seemed no good excuse for interfering. 

"What a smooth car!" Janet exclaimed, as a maroon 
convertible, top down, whirled around the corner, 
sounded its four-noted horn, and slid to a stop before the 
Academy. 

The willowy girl at the wheel huskily answered the oth- 
ers' greetings. "Hello, folks!" she called with a toss of her 
chestnut page-boy bob. The large handbag strapped over 
one shoulder of her white sharkskin suit just matched the 
red leather cushions of the seat. 

Pat Hartman's pert, faintly freckled features had none 
of her cousin Janet's soft, dimpled prettiness, Caroline had 
to admit, but, like all those Sem girls, she was always 
groomed to the very tips of her long, scarlet fingernails. 

"Are you coming to the graduation tonight, Pat?" Janet 
asked, when she had finished admiring the car. 

"Not if I can help it! My own graduation was enough 
for one week. Anyhow, I wouldn't want to come down- 
town so early in a formal/* 

"Oh, are you going to wear a formal when we go out?" 

"But of course!" Pat's eyebrows rose slightly. "With the 
fellows in summer tuxes " 

"Yes, of course," Janet agreed quickly. Til wear my 
hoopskirt if Peter will drop me at our house after the 
exercises, so I can change/' 

"Do that," said Pat, opening the car door for her 
mother. "See you tonight, then." 

In three sweeping movements, the convertible made a 
U-turn in the narrow street and shot northward. 

40 



If there was one tiling deader than the Flower Bed 
normally, thought Caroline as Irma drove across Main 
Street, it was the Flower Bed on a Sunday. Any car more 
modern than an electric really looked out of place in 
narrow, cobbled Tulip Street, which paralleled Main a 
few blocks to the east, descending southward beneath 
its arch of elms from the hill on which the "best" homes 
stood. The best looked none too good to Caroline; the 
staid, brick houses, with their neat little lawns, seemed to 
have grown smaller since her childhood; but at least, in 
its conservative German way, the section was better pre- 
served than that from which she had just come. Even the 
homes of the Polish families who had begun to filter in 
from the east side looked no different from those still 
occupied by the original owners though Caroline had 
thought it high time her parents moved when the first 
one appeared. 

"Ach, Miss Carrie, for a long time you ain't been by 
us," said old Anna, as she opened the door of the Straub- 
meyer house. 

"Why it's hardly two weeks since the golden wedding," 
laughed Caroline, handing her the corsage to put on ice. 
Anyway, these family dinners every other Sunday were 
certainly all any parents could ask of married children. 
She turned to kiss her mother, who came hurrying in 
from the kitchen, wiping her hands on the inevitable 
apron. Even now her hair was hardly as white as her 
daughter's. 

"Mama darling, what were you doing in the kitchen?** 
Caroline put her hat on the hall table. "Surely, Anna 
knows how to get Sunday dinner by now." 

Louisa Straubmeyer laughed. "Ach, that one still can't 

41 



make apple strudel the way the boys like. For your Papa, 
yes, she is good enough, but not for my Peter and Paul." 

"YouTI spoil them yet," said Caroline good-naturedly, 
as, followed by Irma and Janet, they walked between the 
green velvet portieres into the back parlor, which, despite 
all Caroline's tactful gifts, was still far from a modern 
living room. The dark, flowered wallpaper was almost 
entirely covered by framed family photographs, perpetu- 
ating every occasion from Louisa's first Communion down 
to the twins' current graduation. When the three men and 
the boys the latter two looking handsome but warm in 
their tuxedos had greeted the women, Louisa returned 
to the kitchen and the others settled about the room 
Janet next to Peter, Caroline noticed. 

"Well, Carrie " Julius Straubmeyer, bald, stocky, 
upright as ever, was pontificating from his usual morris 
chair. "I was just now tellin' Bob here you're doin' a 
smart thing sendin' these fellers to St. Ignatius College. 
Monsignor says it's as good as any place in the country 
and cheaper." 

"I'm so glad he thinks so," said Caroline, though she 
felt that her uncle was bound to be prejudiced in favor 
of his own alma mater. "I thought perhaps you'd have 
him over here to dinner today/' 

"We asked him, but Father McGrath asked him first, 
down to the high school, to eat with the priests there." 

"Can you let me stop at our house tonight so I can 
change into a formal?" Caroline heard Janet asking Peter. 
"Pat's wearing one." 

"Sure," said Peter. "We can get Pat and then come back 
for you. I hope Joe Militello's date thinks to come formal. 
They're going to meet us at the Adios." 

42 



"Oh, that'll be nice. His sister Rita's in my class 
at school." 

Sitting beside Caroline on the horsehair sofa, Irma, 
too, was following this conversation, while across the 
room the three older men talked. Paul stood by the 
open piano bench, leafing through the sheet music, but 
he was not one to be left out of anything for long. 

"Say, Aunt Irma," he said, "how about giving us some 
dinner music, if I can find anything here swingier than 
The Maiden's Prayer." 

"There are some pieces of mine there somewhere, 
Paul," Janet suggested. "Grandma Straubmeyer still likes 
to have me come in and play for her after school some- 
times, you know." 

"Good," said Paul. "Oh, yes, here's the Beer Barrel 
Polka." 

"Oh, Paul, not that!" pleaded Caroline, for whom the 
very title had unpleasant associations. 

"How about Our Love?" 

"Where would the Hit Parade be without Tchai- 
kovsky?" murmured Peter. 

The latest classical adaptation satisfied all four inter- 
ested, so Irma went over to the upright piano, pleased 
at the acknowledgment of her talent in Caroline's opin- 
ion, her one talent. 

While the twins, Janet, and Irma herself joined in the 
chorus of Our Love, Caroline did not fail to notice that 
her father's all too familiar views on the state of the 
nation, patiently attended by Bob, were obviously boring 
Frank. Catching the latter's eye with an understanding 
smile, she indicated the place Irma had just left, and 
Frank gladly came over to join her. 

43 



"Well, how's my only brother these days?" she asked. 
"I haven't seen you since the golden wedding/' 

"Oh, fit as a fiddle!" said Frank in his hearty way. 
Despite all efforts, he was falling into fat like their 
father, Caroline noticed, glad that Bob at least had kept 
his figure. "But I keep pretty busy, you know, between 
business and politics." 

"Politics?" echoed Caroline, as if taking polite interest 
in his concerns. "So early in the year?" 

"Early! We've been planning for the next election 
since last January. It just about ruined our game out 
at Crystal Bay today. Here it is June, and we still can't 
hit on anyone for mayor that'll please everybody." 

"I suppose with the Polish people feeling the way 
they do, you couldn't very well run any of the German 
fellows, could you?" 

"You said it," Frank agreed, surprised at such native 
political astuteness. "And on the other hand, no Irishman 
has ever got far since Hogan's term; they were all in 
his crowd, you know." 

"It's so unfair," said Caroline, "to judge people by their 
nationalities when we're all Americans now. But if that's 
the way it's done, I suppose you'll just have to act 
accordingly." 

"We sure will." Frank warmed to his subject, glad to 
explain something on which he was better informed than 
his self-possessed older sister, with her college education. 
Irma had swung into Wishing by now, so that the 
conversation between her husband and Caroline still 
remained strictly private. 

"Too bad," said Caroline lightly, "that with a name 
like Murray, you couldn't persuade Bob to run! Of 

44 



course, we'd both hate the responsibility I know what 
Loretta has gone through but after all, the party has 
done a good deal for us." 

"We never thought of Bob," said Frank. "Somehow you 
just don't think of a doctor as mayor.** 

"No," Caroline agreed, "you don't. IVe often wondered 
how that Elias Keith ever got himself elected first mayor 
of Lakeport He was a doctor, you know." 

"That s right," Frank recalled. "So he was." 

"And it's not as if Bob weren't a good speaker." 
Caroline toyed idly with the silver chain of her pince-nez. 
"You'll hear him at the exercises tonight. In a way, 
I think it would be almost selfish of him not to run, 
if the party really needed him." 

"Oh, well," said Frank, "if he'd rather not, I suppose 
there's no use even bringing it up. Ill never forget what 
a time George had, even getting him to accept as 
Health Commissioner." 

Neither would Caroline forget. Bob would never 
know what a part her friendship with Loretta had 
played in that appointment, for which Caroline allowed 
hit" to credit or blame Irma's influence on her 
brother. 

"And look what a fine Commissioner he's made," 
Caroline countered. "Of course, I wouldn't try to in- 
fluence him one way or the other, but I really don't 
see how he could refuse the party anything within 
reason, after all you and George have done for him." 

"Yeah," said Frank thoughtfully. "When you look at 
it that way, it'd be the least he could do." 

Thus, under cover of the wistful strains of Wishing, was 
launched the "Murray For Mayor" boom. Having sown 

45 



the seed, Caroline thought it best to drop the subject 
now, as her mother announced what she still called 
"supper." 

The dining room showed even less of Caroline's touch 
than the parlor; not a potted plant in the bay window, 
not a hand-painted dish on the black-walnut sideboard 
(flanked by two very still lifes of recently killed fowl 
and fish) seemed to have changed. The ceiling lamp, with 
its bead-fringed, green-glass shade, still hung over the 
exact center of the table, Caroline noted, as her father 
said grace. When all were seated, Janet was again next 
to Peter, though more by his arrangement than hers, 
Caroline had to admit. 

"How good of Arm a. to make this for us on such a 
warm day," Irma remarked, after her first sip of Anna's 
famous noodle soup. Caroline had just been thinking that 
in such weather a hot meal showed very poor taste, 
though in this cool, dark room the canons of taste did 
not keep her from enjoying the soup. 

"You women! All afternoon you been eating at that 
party, and still you can eat more?" Caroline's father 
laughed at his own pleasantry his usual heavy-handed 
humor, she considered it. 

"I hardly touched a thing at the tea/' she said. 

"That's right, she didn't," Irma confirmed. "I did, 
though. I just couldn't keep away from those little 
sandwiches. Isn't it funny, no matter how much I eat 
I never seem to get any fatter!" 

"I've told you before, Irma, I'd be worried about that 
if I were you. It's not normal," said Caroline, who had 
to watch her weight constantly. She allowed herself this 
biweekly departure from her carefully caloried diet only 

46 



to humor her mother, she always explained, for she liked 
to think that she had lost all taste for the hearty German 
cooking on which she had been raised. Still, she made 
no protest when her father heaped her plate as full as 
anyone else's. 

The plates, she observed, were not of the gold-edged 
set that had been the somewhat impractical gift of Frank 
and Irma on the occasion of the anniversary. No doubt 
they were being "saved," like all the good things she 
and Frank ever gave their parents. Saved for what? she 
wondered. Personal gifts seemed to be the only ones 
they used; at least, her mother was wearing the gold 
earrings and brooch, and her father the gold cuff links 
given them by the Murrays. 

"This meat is swell," said Peter when he had eaten 
some. "Ill bet you had a hand in cooking it, Grandma/' 

"And I bet you win your bet," chuckled his grand- 
father, beaming about the table. He liked nothing better 
than presiding at dinner, surrounded by his family. "I 
can tell, too. It ain't for no reason that down by St. 
Henry's lawn fete everybody always wants more of Mrs. 
Straubmeyer's pork roast*" 

"Papa, you make me blush!" laughed the old lady. 

Poor Mama, thought Caroline. That sort of thing had 
always been the extent of her activities for the Church 
slaving over a hot stove in the parish hall kitchen. And 
for what? "Refreshments were in charge of the ladies 
of the L.C.B.A. A good time was had by all." 

Thorough eaters that they were, all the Straubmeyers 
soon fell to their food with little conversation beyond 
necessary requests, until presently they sat back 
contented, as Anna brought in the coffee. Caroline was 

47 



unable to restrain her mother from going into the 
kitchen herself to arrange the cheese on the apple strudel, 
which she carried in proudly a moment later. 

"You three kids won't taste nothin' half so good 
wherever you go tonight after the graduation/' said Julius. 

"You said a mouthful, Cramps/' Paul agreed. 

"Oh, we never get much to eat, anyway, except maybe 
after a dance," Janet explained. 

The way the whole family now took it for granted that 
where Peter went, Janet went, vexed Caroline more all 
the time. Perhaps they were even encouraging the idea, 
with an eye to keeping Frank's money in the family, 
but, knowing she would inherit just as much some day, 
Caroline did not care in the least about that. Of course, 
Peter had always been the shyer of the twins, and when 
first they had begun to go out, it had seemed natural 
enough and rather sweet for him to take Janet, who, 
like a sister, had taught him to dance. 

But now that the Murray twins could have their pick 
of the city's academies even the Sem, as proved by 
Paul's conquest of Pat Hartman Caroline considered it 
not only stubborn of Peter but downright embarrassing 
to cling to a girl who was his first cousin in everything 
but actual blood. And from the Mount, of all places! 
In no respect did Caroline feel the difference between 
her sons more than in their choice of girl friends. 

There was no time to linger over dessert now; both 
the boys and Bob had to be at the scene of the exercises 
before the others, and naturally, Caroline was riding with 
them. Thus they rose, and with many arrangements for 
finding each other in the crowd later, Murrays and 
Straubmeyers parted. As they drove toward the down- 

48 



town section, Caroline could not help feeling pleasantly 
elated. Tonight would indeed be a milestone, in more 
ways than the rest of the family suspected. 

When Bob had found the nearest parking lot, Caroline 
realized again how glad she was that St. Ignatius held 
its commencements in the substantial Knights of 
Columbus auditorium. Unlike the college, handsomely 
situated in northern Lakeport, the Jesuit church and 
high school (though its prestige still outclassed its only 
rival, run by the Christian Brothers) were of the vintage 
of the Mount, and, worse still, located almost on top 
of the large, downtown Seneca Market, where Louisa 
Straubmeyer as a girl had worked in the family meat 
stall even now run by some of her relatives. This was 
a spot Caroline shunned like the plague, especially when 
there was any possibility of its putting her mother in 
a reminiscent mood. 

The lobby of the auditorium was already crowding. 
While the twins hurried off to the room assigned, 
Caroline, on Bob's arm, smiled graciously at many friends 
and acquaintances made through the Mothers* Club, but 
the smile contracted and became a mere distant nod 
as she caught sight of Dr. and Mrs. Militello, surrounded 
by children ranging from Rita on down. The doctor, 
with skin darker than his iron-gray hair, looked as dapper 
as ever, but his wife's black velvet hat, adorned by a 
purple veil and some incredibly bright cherries, made 
Caroline want to shriek. She could practically hear a 
hand-organ playing O Sole Mio. 

After escorting her to a seat in the very first row 
only her due, she felt, as wife of the speaker and mother 
of two graduates Bob left Caroline. Since she could 

48 



not see anyone else coming in, she tried to concentrate 
on reading the program. Where did some parents find 
such weird middle names for their sons? she wondered, 
glad that Paul Julius and Peter Francis sounded more 
sensible than most. 

For want of anything better to do, she counted the 
names of each of the four leading nationalities and then 
calculated its percentage in the class. Yes, thank heaven, 
respectable German and Irish names still predominated, 
she reflected, but this only renewed her lingering resent- 
ment that Joe Militello had been chosen valedictorian. 
And surely, his election as class president could have 
been circumvented in some way. It looked so vulgar to 
let an Italian speak for the graduating class of what was 
supposed to be a nice private school. But then priests, 
even Jesuits, at times seemed to show no social sense 
whatever. 

Desperate with boredom, Caroline had virtually 
memorized the program by the time Father McGrath 
appeared from the wings, followed by Monsignor 
Straubmeyer and Bob. Taking his seat in the center of 
the stage as the presiding representative of the bishop, 
the white-haired Monsignor, in the crimson robes of a 
domestic prelate, looked almost like a cardinal. Father 
McGrath sat on his right, and on his left Dr. Murray 
gazed thoughtfully out over the large audience, which 
rose, in a body, as the school band opened the exercises 
with the national anthem. 

Then, to the strains of Chopin's Military Polonaise, 
came the graduates, two by two, self-conscious in their 
tuxedos, marching slowly down the center aisle past row 
after row of relatives and friends smiling encouragement. 

50 



Caroline glowed with pride as Peter and Paul, their 
boyish faces in set smiles, walked up the stairs to the 
flower-banked stage. Her boys, she thought stepping 
over the threshold of the life she was planning for them! 
How they would enjoy being known as the mayor's sons! 
At least Paul would, she was sure. 

After the salutatorian's conventional greeting (Paul 
should have at least given that, Caroline thought, but 
probably the priests did not want to honor him and not 
Peter, so neither of them was chosen), and Father Mc- 
Grath's introductory remarks, Dr. Murray rose and came 
to the front of the stage. His calm manner and professional 
poise won him instant attention, but Caroline held her 
breath until he began to speak. What suitable sentiments 
he expressed, she did not care; she only hoped that Frank 
was listening with the same purpose as she was. 
Controlling a mad impulse to turn around and see where 
Frank was sitting, she kept her hands clenched in her 
lap until Bob sat down, amid sincere and hearty applause. 

Her jaws ached with suppressed yawns throughout Joe 
Militello's naively idealistic valedictory and the endless 
presentation of diplomas, but at the award of honors 
her interest revived. Paul received a medal for his 
English work and Peter one for science. When the 
recessional music had died away and the last graduates 
had filed out, Caroline made her way to the milling lobby, 
where she managed to find Franks family and learn that 
her parents were riding home with Monsignor. Bob joined 
them presently, and they stood waiting for the twins. 

Many of the audience, even strangers, stopped to 
congratulate Dr. Murray on his address. Standing 
modestly in the background with Irma, Caroline had 

51 



to nudge Frank more than once to make sure that lie 

o 

caught the more enthusiastic comments. But after all, this 
was not the best moment to broach the subject. Gazing 
about her, Caroline studiously ignored the Militellos, 
gathered near by in the midst of a foreign-looking group; 
but, of course, when Bob saw them, he insisted on going 
over to speak to the doctor and bringing her with him. 

"Congratulations, Joe/' Caroline smiled her sweetest, 
while the two men talked, just to show there were no 
hard feelings. "I'm afraid that speech of yours quite 
outshone the doctor's." 

"Well, thanks, Mrs. Murray." Joe returned her smile 
uneasily, not knowing how to take her remark. He was 
rather nice-looking in a childish way, she thought, with 
his curly, black hair and guileless countenance. "Pete 
and Paul will be along in a few minutes." 

Caroline turned to Mrs. Militello. It was hard to believe 
that this shapeless woman in rusty black was actually 
younger than she, and yet when her family, the Coppolas, 
among the first west side Italians, had kept a candy store 
near the Mount in Caroline's day, Teresa had still been 
one of the smaller children. And look at her now! All she 
needed was a shawl over her head. Aloud Caroline said, 
"How proud you must be tonight!" 

"Oh, yes." The woman was obviously trying to be 
modest. "But we have the graduations every year. With 
so many children, Mrs. Murray, always there is some- 
thing." 

"No doubt," said Caroline. "I suppose Joe will go right 
into the Pre-Med course at St. Ignatius next year?" 

She certainly hoped so, for thus Peter and Paul, who 
planned to take the full four-year Arts course, would not 

52 



be thrown with Joe so much not at all after their 
sophomore year, when Pre-Med students went on to 
medical school. 

Overhearing the question, Dr. Militello turned. 

"Oh, no, Mrs. Murray!" he snapped in his explosive 
way. "Our Joe's going to get his A.B. degree just like 
your boys. It's something I never got a chance to do. 
Doctors have got to be more educated nowadays." 

"How true!" said Caroline. It was getting so that 
literally anyone could take a degree at St. Ignatius, she 
thought in annoyance. She had never liked the aggressive 
little doctor, anyway. His prominence in the Lakeport 
Knights of Columbus seemed to her only another sign of 
the deplorable trend of Catholic society a warning, 
indeed, that it was high time to leave this commonplace 
sphere of card parties and Communion breakfasts for that 
of coming-out parties and hunt breakfasts. 

"That way 111 have to work my way through, with 
an NYA job," Joe explained. 

"That won't be easy, will it, Joe?" Caroline's voice held 
the brisk chill of an icy wind. 

"No, but HI manage," the boy replied. 

"I'm sure you will, somehow," Caroline purred. She 
saw that Rita was edging over to talk to her, so, pressing 
Bob's arm, she said, 'The boys are waiting for us, dear." 

As she withdrew, her pointed gaze at Mrs. Militello's 
hat was not lost on anyone but its victim. 

"Hello, Mother," Paul laughed as his parents 
approached. "We thought you'd left us for Joe." 

"Oh, darlings, never that!" Caroline answered, and 
then kissed both boys. "You did splendidly tonight." 

They looked nicer than ever now, with their white 

53 



coats, maroon bow ties and matching feather bouton- 
nieres, she thought, contrasting them with Joe in his 
evidently rented tuxedo. 

"It was nice of you to go over to Mrs. Militello, Mother/' 
said Peter. "Joe says she thinks you're the nicest lady 
she ever met." 

"Well, she probably doesn't meet many ladies." 
Caroline let her son interpret that remark as he would, 
while he walked ahead with Janet. It was now that 
Frank saw his opportunity. 

"Well, Bob," he began, "that speech of yours certainly 
convinced me," 

"Of what? - that we must never forget the teachings of 
our youth? That was about all I said." 

"No, no, I don't even know what you said. It was the 
way you said it. I mean it convinced me you may be the 
best man the party could find to run for mayor." 

In his amazement Bob almost dropped the twins* tux- 
edo jackets, which he was carrying over one arm. "Me? 
Run for mayor? You're not kidding? Good Lord, Frank 
what ever put that into your head?" 

"Now, dear," said Caroline lightly, "don't you give 
Frank credit for any original ideas?" 

"It just came to me while I listened to you," Frank 
explained, quite ready to acknowledge such a political 
inspiration as his own. "The way you held this audience 
with just a commencement speech, think what you could 
do if you really had something to say." 

"But you know how I hate making speeches," Bob 
protested. "Anyway, with my health not 100 per cent, 
how could I make any kind of a campaign? Better forget 
it, Frank." 

54 



"Why, dear, HI bet it wouldn't be half as hard on 
you as your tiresome old practice," Caroline suggested. 
"Of course, we'd all rather you just went on being Com- 
missioner, but if the party loses out, you won't even 
be that" 

"That's right," Frank added. "We've got to get some- 
one, aricflsoon. You may be our last hope." 

"There must be someone else " 

"I know what!" Caroline broke in. "Why don't you 
and Irma come out to Sunrise Point with us over the 
week end of the Fourth, Frank? Then you can explain 
the whole thing to us, and maybe we could be convinced/' 

"Fine!" said Frank. The doctor was still silent as they 
moved toward the entrance. It was then Caroline saw 
that the dark-haired priest standing near by with Father 
McGrath was Russell Carmody. Quickly she turned her 
head away; she had wasted enough time on unimportant 
people for one day. But even as she walked, she knew 
his eyes were on her, and when she reached the door, 
she could no longer avoid his glance. She let the others 
go on ahead; you never could tell what he might say 
or to whom. 

"Hello, Carolinel" Russell smiled as he shook her 
hand. "I was asking Irma about you earlier this evening." 

"How are you, Father Russell?" she inquired, adopting 
the usual compromise form of address for priests once 
called by their first names. 

"Very well indeed, Caroline," Russell's brown eyes 
twinkled. "And how is the guiding light of the St. 
Ignatius mothers?" 

His pleasant tone took any sting out of the words, 
but Caroline did not like such remarks, coming from him. 

55 



"I see you're well informed,** she said. 

"Well, one can hardly be in Lakeport any time at all 
without hearing about Mrs. R. Emmett Murray/' 

He had really aged very little, she thought, but his 
years as a Jesuit seemed to have given him a kind of 
serene inner poise he had certainly never had as a boy. 
Indeed, his whole manner reflected such quiet content 
that Caroline found it disturbing as if in giving up 
so much he had somehow gained more from life than 
she would ever have. She had an odd feeling that even 
if she should get everything she thought she wanted now, 
she would never be as deeply satisfied with her lot as 
Russell was with his. Such a doubt as to the values of 
her world was so rare for Caroline that she felt a chill 
of alarm. Why did Russell always make her see herself 
in such a different way from anyone else? 

""Will you be in Lakeport long, Father?" she asked. 

"Not at present. But I've been assigned to St. Ignatius 
College for the next year, as you probably saw in the 
paper today." 

"I didn't have time to look at anything but the society 
section/* she said, and immediately regretted it. A per- 
fectly innocent remark, she told herself furiously, yet 
she felt as if she had betrayed herself, though Russell 
said nothing. His news came as something of a shock. 
Then she took hold of herself. Even if she could never 
tell what he was thinking, what had she to fear from him? 
Probably he had long since forgotten his bitter words on 
that night twenty years ago. It was absurd to feel that 
inwardly he was still looking at her as he had then. The 
only reason the episode still stood out in her mind at all 
was that no one else had ever said such things to 

56 



her before or since. Before she could get away from 
Russell, Peter and Paul returned, looking for her. 

"Oh, there you are, Mother," said Paul. "The folks 
are waiting. 9 * 

"Well, well," said Russell, "so these are the famous 
Murray twins. I thought I recognized them at the break- 
fast this morning/' 

"Yes, these are the twins," said Caroline. "Peter and 
Paul, this is Father Russell Carmody, whom youVe heard 
so much about." 

"I suppose you boys will be going to a Jesuit college?" 
asked the priest when the introduction had been acknowl- 
edged. "Georgetown, perhaps?" 

"Not quite," said Peter. "We're going to St. Ignatius." 

"Isn't that splendid!" Russell looked genuinely pleased. 
"Ill be teaching psychology there next year." 

"Maybe well have you in class," said Paul. 

"I hardly think so. But anyway " he smiled at their 
mother "111 keep an eye on them for you, Caroline." 

Again she felt that slight uneasiness. She still did not 
know quite how to take Russell, but she did know that 
she resented almost dreaded his having anything to 
do with anything of hers. The fact that the twins 
obviously liked him in no way relieved her uncomfortable 
impression, and she took them away as quickly as possible. 

As the boys led her to where Frank's car was parked, 
she began to shake off her vague apprehensions with more 
practical thoughts of the coming week end and its results. 
This had been a tiring day, she reflected, but, on the 
whole, satisfactory. 



57 



Chapter 2 



"WILL Junior recover from the operation? Will Helen 
forgive John? What will Aunt Martha do now? Don't 
miss tomorrow's moving episode of Widow Blake s Family, 
a simple story of everyday folks, brought to you at this 
time each Monday through Friday by the makers of " 

The announcer's mellow voice stopped abruptly as Irma 
switched off the portable radio. Again the ordinary sounds 
of Sunrise Point reached the awninged terrace of the 
Murray house the hum of a motorboat cutting across 
the dazzling waters of the lake, the clink of horseshoes 
pitched by Bob and Frank down on the beach, the 
distant rattle of firecrackers, the laughter of the youngsters 
playing badminton on the side lawn. 

"I know they're trashy," Irma apologized for her taste 
in radio programs, languidly fanning herself with a 
Messenger of the Sacred Heart. "But when you once get 
interested, it's hard to stop following them." 

"No doubt." Caroline did not look up from the menu 
she was planning for next week's luncheon of the Cath- 
olic Charities Board. Irma would never be anything 
but an average housewife, she reflected; between her 
banalities and Janet's constant association with Peter, she 
almost wondered if Frank's influence on Bob was worth 
all she had endured these past few days. Tonight, thank 
God, the Hartmans would be here, and Bob would have 
to reach some definite decision. 

58 



"My, that Jordan girl plays good, doesn't she?" said 
Irma, watching the badminton game. 

Caroline looked up with interest. "Doesn't she, though? 
But then Mimi seems to do everything well." 

"Except for being so light, she sort of puts me in mind 
of her father/' Irma observed. "Like he used to look 
when you went with him. You went quite steady there 
for a while, didn't you?" 

"That was before I knew Bob," said Caroline evasively, 
and changed the subject. "You can see now, Irma, how 
wise it was to have Janet take Frank's name when you 
married him. Think how awkward it would be if Mimi 
knew who Janet's father really was." 

"Oh, I don't know," said Irma. "I don't see that she'd 
have any lack coming. After all, it was Mimi's father that 
killed Janet's, not the other way around." 

That was not a nice way to put it, Caroline felt, but 
she made no reply. The four young people had finished 
their game now, and walked over toward the terrace 
the two girls in bright play suits, the boys in khaki shorts. 

"Is it an hour since we ate, Mother?" asked Paul. 

"Just about," said Caroline, consulting her watch. "Are 
you going for a swim now?" 

"Yes, Mrs. Murray. We're going in from my part of 
the beach today, and then for a spin in the boat." Mimi 
Jordan's diction was unusually clear, though in no way 
affected. The little blue bow in her ash-blonde curls made 
her look absurdly young, for she was rather petite, with 
a round, baby face and an innocent stare that in any- 
one else Caroline might have called vapid. 

*TU run along and change now, and you kids can 
meet me in front of our place," she continued. 

59 



"Okay," said Paul. Til bet we beat you there." 

"Don't be too sure," laughed Mimi, and with a friendly 
smile at the two women ran down the stone stairs to 
the beach, as Janet and the boys went into the house. 

'What a sweet girl Mimi is!" said Caroline with 
approval. Although she was slated to enter Vassar next 
year when she finished Lakeport Seminary, she gave the 
impression of having been raised quite simply with the 
simplicity of those whose position is so certain that they 
have no need to impress anyone, thought Caroline. Had 
she been willing to analyze Mimi with her usual critical 
perception, she would have seen that the girl's upbringing 
had merely provided her with a set of graceful responses 
to any social situation, so that she could be thoroughly 
charming on all occasions without the least necessity of 
thought or initiative, and therefore she had developed 
neither faculty. Hers was a mind which only mature 
experience would awaken. But to Caroline even Pat 
Hartman now seemed only a conscious imitation of the 
delightful sub-deb type into which her cousin had grown 
so naturally. 

She could still scarcely believe her sons' good fortune 
in making Mimfs acquaintance so soon. The life guard 
who knew everyone along the beach had provided the 
semblance of an introduction necessary for a girl like 
Mimi even amid summer informality; and, of course, 
attractive boys were welcomed more easily into any 
set than new girls. Mimfs friends were already a little 
weary of the same restricted circle of familiar faces. So 
Caroline was well satisfied that the exorbitant rent of the 
Sunrise Point house was not being spent in vain. 

Best of all, though it was too early yet to be sure, 

60 



Caroline had the pleasant impression that Peter liked 
Mimi better than he ever had any girl other than Janet. 
How perfect, she thought, for Peter to go with Mimi 
and Paul with Pat! Not just because the one was Bert 
Jordan's daughter and the other his niece, but because 
both were exactly the kind of girls with whom she liked 
her boys to be seen. Nothing common about either of 
them] And who knew where the connection with Mimi 
might lead? As yet Caroline had had no opportunity to 
meet the girl's mother, but she was sure that with their 
children getting on so well they would become good 
friends before the summer was over. 

But now Caroline wanted to talk to the boys alone, to 
make quite sure that Peter would be with Mimi tonight, 
lest she should be left the odd girl when Pat came out. 
She went over to the side lawn, where Inna would not 
hear, ostensibly to put the badminton equipment in its 
box as she waited for her sons to appear. 

"Boys, where is the other badminton birdie?" she 
called the moment they stepped out the door, clad now 
in flowered trunks, which Paul had selected but which 
Peter said made him feel like something out of a Dorothy 
Lamour picture. 

"Oh, here it is," she said, picking up the little feathered 
ball, when both boys had come over to join in the search. 
Then she lowered her voice. "You know, boys, I'm afraid 
Janet hasn't been having a very good time with only you 
two for beaux. Why don't you see that she meets some 
other nice boys?** 

"She hasn't complained so far," smiled Peter. 

"Of course not," said Caroline. "I was just afraid it might 
be awkward tonight, when you two are with Pat and Mimi." 

61 



"Pat!" Paul looked aghast. "My gosh, Mother, do you 
mean to say Pat's coining out with Mr. and Mrs. Hartman 
tonight?" 

"You know perfectly well she is, Paul/' said Caroline 
coldly. 

"No, honest, Mother! It completely slipped my mind. 
Gee, I've got a date with Mimi! The four of us here 
have been planning to have a roast on the beach tonight." 

"Oh, Paul, how could you do such a thing!" Caroline 
was exasperated; yet she might have known that Paul 
would be the one to appreciate Mimi. "Well, then, there's 
nothing to do but pair you off with Pat for tonight, Peter." 

"Wait a minute now, Mother," Peter protested. "Pat's 
always been Paul's girl, not mine." 

"Well, you look so much alike, I'm sure she won't mind 
this once." 

"But I will!" Peter's face had set in that stubborn look 
that so annoyed his mother. "After all, I've been planning 
for tonight with Janet." 

"Peter, you might be obliging for once in your life!" 
Caroline argued. "Janet's one of the family. She'll under- 
stand. Besides, Pat Hartman is a lovely girl." 

"'Lovely to look at,' maybe, but not 'delightful to 
know/" said Peter. "Just 'cause her father's mayor, she 
acts twice as snooty as Mimi without half as much 
reason." 

"That's not true," said Caroline automatically, because 
she did not want it to be true. "Can't you get someone 
else for Janet?" 

"Why not get someone else for Pat?" Peter suggested. 
"Or let her go without a date. It'll do her good." 

"If you'd only let us know before, Mother," Paul put in. 

62 



"I've had more important things on my mind! But I 
distinctly remember mentioning it to you on Sunday. 
Naturally, I didn't want to say too much in front of 
Janet because I thought she'd be the extra girl. Oh, here 
she comes now. Run along, don't keep Mimi waiting. 
Ill think of some way out." 

As the youngsters went down the stairs, Caroline 
returned to sit with Irma, but her mind was less than 
ever on the menu before her. She was extremely dis- 
pleased with both her sons, with Paul for creating an awk- 
ward situation, with Peter for refusing to solve it her way. 
Yet Paul's fault, after all, was quite understandable. Like 
her, he saw that if Pat was good, Mimi was better. 

There was in the little affair, Caroline realized, a certain 
teen-age parallel to the old triangle among herself, Bert, 
and Miriam. The best Catholic background money could 
buy was still not quite up to the taken-f or-granted prestige 
of the older families. Even on such a minor scale, Caroline 
did not want Pat hurt as she had once been certainly 
not while her father's good will was so important to 
Bob's nomination. 

Since Janet could not be disposed of bodily, however, 
another boy to even the party seemed the only solution. 
But who, at this late date? As yet the twins hardly knew 
any of the boys around here well enough to ask such 
a favor, and most of their friends in the city surely had 
plans made by now. Most, but not all. What about Joe 
Militello? Caroline asked herself, trying to think of those 
least likely to be doing anything important. Yes, Joe 
would be quite good enough for Janet; after all, she knew 
his sister. Perhaps, please God, he might even begin 
to win Janet away from Peter. 

63 



The problem now was to get in touch with him, for, 
in accordance with Sunrise Point's elaborately maintained 
seclusion, only a few of the larger houses, like Jordans', 
had telephones. And the only public phone, at the com- 
munity store half a mile down the road, was very public 
indeed not even enclosed in a booth. Then, with the 
feeling of inevitable lightness that always accompanied 
her most brilliant ideas, Caroline saw her opportunity to 
kill two birds with one efficient stone. Why had she not 
thought of it before? 

"I'm going to make a phone call," she told Irma. "The 
children need an extra boy for tonight/* 

"Want me to drive you over to the store?" Irma offered. 
"Our car is behind yours in the yard " 

"That won't be necessary, thanks. I'm going to ask 
Mrs. Jordan if I may use her phone." 

"Oh 7 Carrie!" said Irma. "Don't you want me to come 
with you, anyway? I'm dying to see the inside of that 
house. And after all, she's my sister-in-law's sister-in-law, 
just like Loretta is to you." 

"It takes only one to make a phone call/' Caroline's 
words cut across Irma's. "I don't know what she'd think 
if you just sat there rubbering while I phoned/' 

"Oh, all right, then." Irma returned to her magazine. 

Having changed to her most becoming blue and white 
printed silk and added a blue clip to her snow-white bob, 
Caroline felt a pleasant sense of adventure as she walked 
along the Point's private road, behind the few houses 
that separated hers from Jordans'. The latter was bigger 
than most people's city homes, she thought, though to 
Miriam Keith Jordan it probably seemed a mere cozy 
nook, after the grandeur of Keithaven, the baronial family 

64 



estate, which in keeping with her reduced income she 
had subdivided and rented since Bert's death. It would 
be just her luck to find Miriam out, Caroline told herself, 
and have to ask the favor of servants. But no! The uni- 
formed maid who opened the side door asked her to 
step into the living room while she announced her to 
Mrs. Jordan. 

In her momentary wait Caroline's eye missed no detail 
of the room's studied simplicity. Every antique was an 
original, she knew, for Miriam's collection of Early Ameri- 
can pieces, both inherited and acquired, had often been 
written up in the papers. Through the French doors to 
the terrace Caroline glimpsed Miriam herself, sipping 
some tall iced drink at an umbrella-shaded table with 
another woman a tall, thin woman who looked like an 
angular sketch from next month's Harper's Bazaar. From 
her mental gallery of Lakeport's social register Caroline 
was thrilled to identify the guest as Mrs. Averill Phelps 
the Mrs. Averill Phelps, as she put it to herself the for- 
mer Charlotte Winthrop, a noted horsewoman and one of 
the most prominent members of Miriam's set. Would she 
be introduced? Caroline wondered, as Miriam arose at the 
maid's message and came across the terrace into the 
living room. 

Small boned and ash blond like her daughter, Miriam 
Jordan was by no means beautiful, but she had a look of 
breeding that took generations to produce, Caroline 
thought something that made her plain, black linen 
sport dress look smarter than anything Caroline had ever 
worn. It seemed strange that this distinguished woman, 
whom she had recognized so many times on the street, at 
the theater, in the more exclusive downtown shops, should 

65 



be looking at her for the first time now, with the politely 
questioning gaze of a total stranger. 

"I do hope you 11 forgive my bursting in on you like 
this, Mrs. Jordan," she began. Tm Caroline Murray, one 
of your new neighbors." 

"How do you do, Mrs. Murray?" Miriam smiled gra- 
ciously, "I believe my daughter has met your sons." 

"And quite captivated both of them!" beamed Caroline, 
encouraged. "But I really came to ask a favor of you, 
Mrs. Jordan." 

"Won't you sit down while you tell me about it?" 
Miriam gestured toward a Windsor chair. 

"Thank you, but it won't take a moment." Caroline had 
seldom come so close to feeling nervous. "You see, I have 
a rather personal phone call to make, and that phone at 
the store is so public especially on a holiday like this, 
I wondered if I might use yours?" 

"Why, certainly, Mrs. Murray. You'll find it right there 
in the hall." 

"Oh, thank you!" 

Miriam returned to the terrace, while Caroline found 
the Militellos' number in the Lakeport directory. Of all 
people to be calling on this phone, she thought. The voice 
that answered sounded like Rita's, but Caroline did not 
investigate. After a number of audible shrieks for Joe, the 
boy himself came on. 

"Hello, Joe," said Caroline. 'This is Mrs. Murray, the 
twins' mother." 

She let that sink in; poor Joe's gulp was almost audible. 

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Murray," he said then. "Well, how are 
Pete and Paul?" 

"Just fine, Joe. They've been intending and intending to 

66 



call you ever since we moved out to Sunrise Point Satur- 
day, but we have no phone of our own out here, you 
know, so I thought I'd better call for them now while I 
have the chance." 

"Sure," said Joe. "I know how it is." 

"Well, you see, Joe," she went on, "they're planning a 
little roast for tonight nothing fancy, only the three 
couples, in fact. And, of course, they want you for the 
third boy." 

< They do?" He didn't have to sound that surprised, 
thought Caroline. "Well, gee, Mrs. Murray, I don't have 
to work tonight and I'd certainly love to come out, but the 
thing is, I couldn't get our car. My father's taking the kids 
over to the Park for the fireworks." 

She might have known there would be something like 
that! But she was not so easily defeated. 

"Oh, don't let that stop you, Joe. There are some other 
friends of ours driving out this evening who'll be glad to 
pick you up if you get in touch with them." 

"Well, I could do that all right, Mrs. Murray," said the 
boy hopefully. < Who are the people?" 

"Mayor Hartman and his family. You must know his 
daughter Pat, don't you?" 

"Not very well. I only met her a few times with Paul." 
Joe's naive embarrassment was obvious. "Maybe you bet- 
ter ask someone else, Mrs. Murray, someone with a car. 
It'll be less bother-" 

As though she would be asking him, if anyone else were 
available! 

"I won't hear of it, Joe," she insisted. "The twins would 
never forgive me. Just call up and explain things to Pat 
as I have to you. Tell her you're to be Janet's date." 

67 



"Janet? But I thought-" 

"Yes, Janet Straubmeyer, the twins' cousin." Caroline 
cut him short. "She goes to school with your sister Rita. 
So you go call Pat now, Joe, and we'll be looking for you 
early this evening. I'm sure you'll all have a grand time." 

"Okay, Mrs. Murray. Thanks an awful lot for asking me. 
It was swell of the twins to think of me." 

"Oh, don't mention it, Joe." 

When she had replaced the phone, she went back into 
the living room to thank Miriam again, hoping to be sum- 
moned to the terrace for an introduction to Mrs. Phelps. 
But Miriam merely came part way across, to ask, "Did you 
get your party all right?" 

"Yes. Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Jordan. YouVe 
been most kind." 

"Not at all, Mrs. Murray. You're entirely welcome to 
use the telephone whenever you have occasion." Miriam's 
tone seemed to indicate that the conversation was over, 
and though Caroline would have loved to stay longer, she 
felt it best not to overdo things the first time. 

"Well, then, thank you again.*' Caroline moved toward 
the door. "It's been a pleasure, Mrs. Jordan. I did so want 
to meet Mimi's mother." 

With a final cordial smile they parted. That last remark 
had been particularly good, with its assumed innocence 
of the Jordan social position, thought Caroline, as she 
paused to admire the elaborate flower beds in the garden. 
Just as if she had not followed Miriam's career in the 
society pages almost since childhood! 

Daughter of Lakeport's fabulous railroad heiress, Fanny 
Sutton (tie sensation of a London season in the Eighties) 
and Tyler Keith, the banker for whom she reputedly refused 

68 



a duke, Miriam Keith had always been to Lakeport all 
that Alice Roosevelt was to the nation. Even now, as Caro- 
line walked slowly back toward her own house, she could 
recall pictures of Miriam's debut in the winter of 1914, 
in a peg-topped Poiret gown straight from Paris, with 
genuine aigrettes curving from her blond pompadour; 
Miriam the first girl in Lakeport to wear riding breeches 
- taking hurdles at the horse show; Miriam on the Vassar 
Daisy Chain; Miriam in jaunty war uniforms, doing can- 
teen work with the Junior League; and finally, Miriam's 
wedding, solemnized in St. Giles' Cathedral by the Epis- 
copal bishop himself, and attended by many of New 
York's elite as well as all of Lakeport's. 

Then in the lavish 1920's, even after Mimi's birth, came 
other pictures in Vanity Fair now or in syndicated roto- 
gravure -of Mrs. Albert Neill Jordan, the well-known 
"international hostess," gowned for her presentation at St. 
James; in her box at Ascot or Longchamps; at St. Moritz, 
in Monte Carlo, on the Lido, enjoying the season with 
titled friends. But never with Bert. 

The fact that almost from the first all Lakeport knew 
that its spoiled darling was an unloved wife had done 
much to soften Caroline's natural jealousy and revive her 
earlier heroine worship. Yes, though she had married Bert, 
she had lost him far more bitterly than Caroline ever had, 
for Caroline at least would always carry the deep-hidden 
conviction that had he married for love, she would have 
been his choice. 

Ironically, despite all reports of lordly, even princely, 
attentions to Miriam, Bert had refused either to divorce 
her or to let her divorce him. He had sacrificed far too 
much in marrying her ever to renounce what material ad- 

69 



vantages the match had brought him. So the long dead- 
lock continued until the market collapse precipitated its 
violent end, and now when Caroline thought of that ill- 
starred union that had so tragically failed to satisfy the 
hopes of either partner, she could pity Miriam almost as 
much as Bert. And at last she had talked as an equal to 
this glamorous woman of the world! She could hardly 
have felt more honored by a personal audience with the 
Pope. 

"Oh, Carrie!" cried Irma, when Caroline had rejoined 
her. "You must tell me all about Jordans' house." 

"Sorry, Irma, but I was really much more interested in 
Mrs. Jordan herself. She's as smart looking as the Duchess 
of Windsor! They're friends, you know; that's why she 
didn't happen to know the present King and Queen/' 

"What's she like to talk to?" asked Irma without much 
interest, 

"A delightful woman! Just like Mimi " Caroline had 
decided not to mention the presence of Charlotte Phelps. 
"I don't know how Loretta can say she's so uppish. If you 
ask me, there must be two sides to that story " 

"Oh, there was never any love lost between them, if 
that's what you mean, even when Bert was alive." 

"Poor Mrs. Jordan was traveling most of the time then. 
It was dreadful, wasn't it," said Caroline, relishing her 
pity, "the way they said Bert treated her." 

"I think they both got just what was coming to them." 
The remark was unusually harsh, for Irma. "If she hadn't 
made him give up his faith, I bet they'd have had a lot 
more respect for each other." 

"Oh, well, who are we to judge?" said Caroline with 
that kindly tolerance that was so much a part of her. 

70 



Already she was visioning all that her proposed friend- 
ship with Miriam might mean if Bob was elected mayor. 
Never would she make Loretta's mistake of not keeping 
up such a valuable connection. 

"Did you have a good game, boys?" asked Irma pres- 
ently, as Bob and Frank came slowly up the stairs from 
the beach. 

"A good hot game!" Frank tossed the horseshoes on 
the grass and sat down in the glider beside his wife. 
His face was beefy with sunburn. 

"Bob, dear, you mustn't overdo," Caroline warned. He 
should be saving himself for the campaign. 

"Don't worry/' he said. "A little mild exercise won't 
hurt the old ticker." 

"You're the doctor," she smiled. 

"Is there some beer on ice, Carrie?" Frank asked. 

"There certainly is. Ill have Olga bring some out." 
Caroline rose at once to go into the house; her sisterly 
devotion these days knew no bounds. 

"Don't bother Olga. I'll bring it out," said Bob, following 
Caroline into the living room. Its grass rugs and chintz- 
covered wicker looked commonplace to Caroline now, 
after Jordans'. 

"She's only peeling potatoes on the back porch," she 
protested as they walked through to the gleaming white 
kitchen. "After all, dear, what do we keep a maid for?" 

"I know," said Bob, "but I've hardly had a minute to 
talk to you alone these past few days." 

That had been quite all right with Caroline; she pre- 
ferred to let Frank talk up the mayoral idea, rather titan 
pin herself down to a position that might not fit into her 
conscientiously played role of model wife. 

71 



"Why, is there something Frank and Irma shouldn't 
hear?" she asked innocently, her back to Bob as she took 
down four glasses from the cupboard. 

"You know it's not that, Caroline." Bob set four frosty 
bottles of Straubmeyer's "Lorelei" on the table. "I just 
want to know what you really think of this mayor busi- 
ness aside from all Frank's arguments, I mean." 

"Well, I don't see how you can set aside all Frank's 
arguments just like that," Caroline ventured. 

"But do you really want me to run? That's what 
matters." 

"It's not what any of us wants that matters." Caroline 
gently shook her head, "As I see it, it's a question of what 
you ought to do." 

"And you think I ought to run?" 

"Since you ask, dear, I must say frankly I don't see how 
you can refuse. Of course, if you do for some good reason 
of your own, the boys and I will try never to let it make 
a bit of difference. We'll always know you could have 
been a leader, anyway." 

"Is that how the boys feel about it?" 

"How do you suppose they feel at their age?" Caroline 
smiled. "They don't want to influence you any more than 
I do, but no matter what Peter may say, you know they'd 
love to have their own dad mayor of Lakeport." 

"Then I guess from any angle it would be pretty selfish 
of me not to accept if the party wants me," said Bob 
gravely. 

"Don't say that, Bob, It's not in you to be selfish. You're 
just a little unwilling to believe in yourself like Lincoln." 
Then Caroline varied her approach slightly. "But after all, 
the position isn't all responsibility! It certainly won't be 

72 



any harder than being Health Commissioner. In a way, 
it'll be a reward for all your work these past four years.** 

"All I would have asked was to get back to my own 
practice," sighed Bob. "But if I must, I suppose I must/' 

"Just think of the honor!" Caroline persisted. "Mayor 
of a city of six hundred thousand people! The second 
largest in the state, 'Key City of the Great Lakes/ " 

"Of course, Frank may be overestimating my chances," 
said Bob, almost hopefully, putting the bottles and glasses 
on a tray. "Well have to hear what news George brings 
tonight" 

"But if George says the word " Caroline carefully kept 
the anxiety out of her voice "you will run?" 

"Yes," said Bob. "I'll run." 

"I knew you'd decide what was best," said Caroline as 
casually as she could, "if we just let you make up your 
own mind." 

Good old Bob, she thought, looking at his worn, kindly 
face. He had never been a dream man, but in the long 
run he was proving just the kind of husband she had 
expected. Hers had been no spite marriage, hastily con- 
tracted on the rebound, but one planned, and successfully 
planned, to last. Where would she be now if she had mar- 
ried that enigmatic Russell or even Bert, for all his charm? 
If Bob never quite understood her as either of the others 
had . . . well, few people did. That was the price a sensi- 
tive person always paid, she supposed. 

At heart Bob was still much the same simple, small- 
town boy as when they had first met, she knew; but for 
her he might even have been a small-town doctor, perish 
the thought! Thus he could never quite take for granted 
the poised, sophisticated, dazzlingly clever city girl who 

73 



had condescended to be his. He had a mind of his own, 
of course, which Caroline encouraged him to use in mat- 
ters of no concern to her, knowing that on any important 
issue he could always be charmed into her way of think- 
ing. That, after all, was what counted most, she realized. 
One could not have everything. 

Frank was jubilant at Bob's decision and sure that 
George would bring unanimous endorsement from the 
other members of the county executive council, whose 
final word was to be given to him today. 

"It's going to be hard on you, Carrie," Irma sympathized. 

"I know." Caroline took a dainty sip of beer with the 
air of one bravely downing her hemlock. "But if Bob's 
willing to sacrifice his next four years to the city, surely 
the least I can do is try to help. Isn't that what a wife 
is for?" 

"You all seem awfully sure I'd be elected," Bob 
remarked. 

"How can we lose?" Frank swung his glass of