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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 beer in 
an expansive gesture. "After a clean administration like 
George's, it's a cinch the organization candidate will 
win the primaries. And as far as the campaign goes, 
the Republicans haven't got a leg to stand on. It's a 
good thing there's nothing in your record they can use 
for mud slinging." 

"Oh, they wouldn't stoop to that!" Caroline exclaimed. 

"The hell they wouldn't!" laughed Frank. "Anything 
goes in Lakeport politics. Remember how we elected 
Hogan back in '27 on the simple fact that the other fel- 
low's daughter had been caught in a speakeasy raid two 
years before? We never even had to mention it on the 
platform, but it certainly swung the dry vote." 

74 



"To Hogan, of all people!" said Bob. Tm afraid I'll 
have to leave the finer points of politics to you, Frank." 

Caroline hoped Bob was not going to turn squeamish. 
After all, practical politics had nothing to do with a man's 
private character. Was not Frank a former Grand Knight 
of the Lakeport K. of C. Council? And George was the 
pride of the St. Charles' Holy Name Society. Even Mayor 
Hogan had been technically known as a "prominent 
Catholic layman/* 

It was not long afterward that Janet appeared at the 
head of the stairs. 

"Whew!" she sighed, throwing herself on the grass. 
"We've been gathering wood for tonight till I feel like a 
Campfire Girl/' 

The boys, who had come trudging up after her, sat 
down on either side of her. 

"Mimi says on the night of the Fourth everyone along 
the beach tries to see wholl have the biggest bonfire," 
Paul explained. 

"Oh, say, Mother," said Peter, "wasn't that you coming 
out of Jordans* side door while we were in swimming? 
Did you go to call on Mimf s mother?" 

"Before she's called on me? Hardly! I just wanted to 
use their telephone/' She could feel the suspicion in Peter's 
gaze, but she continued smoothly. "I knew you needed 
another boy for tonight, so I got Joe Militello for you. 
He's coming out with the Hartmans." 

She was glad it was someone to whom Peter could not 
possibly object, 

"That'll be nice for Pat," he said evenly. 

"Itll be nice for all of you," Caroline corrected, under- 
standing perfectly what he had meant. "After all, at your 

75 



age you don't have to be paired off like a Noah's Ark." 

"But it's more fun that way," Paul grinned. 

Guessing what Peter was thinking, Caroline was almost 
sorry that she had invited Joe. If Pat had come alone, per- 
haps mere politeness would have forced Peter to pay her 
more attention t^ap Janet. Now he would do no such 
thing. Was ever a devoted mother afflicted with such a 
difficult son? If only she could send Peter away to college 
and keep Paul at home! But, of course, they would never 
stand for such a separation, and besides it would seem to 
favor Peter. 

"You kids better get dressed/' said Irma. "Olgall be 
making supper pretty soon/* 

Making supper! thought Caroline, as Janet and the boys 
went into the house. Really, Inna was almost as bad as 
Mama with those quaint expressions that the Irish incor- 
rectly called "Dutch." 

Because of the weather, the meal was a simple assort- 
ment of cold cuts, deviled eggs, and potato salad. Seven 
bottles of Straubmeyer's "Lorelei" also stood on the table, 
despite Caroline's disapproval. Not that she resented pri- 
vate reminders of the source of the family income as once 
she had; even a brewery fortune took on a certain dignity 
after fifty years. What she minded was Irma's lax way of 
letting Janet drink beer. It was different with the twins. 
They were boys. But Irma had a way of letting good ad- 
vice go in one ear and out the other. 

Caroline's attention was again drawn to Janet's faulty 
upbringing by a discussion among the three young people 
of some new novel called The Grapes of Wrath. A certain 
amount of culture was all very well, it seemed to her, but 
it was fatal for a girl to be too bookish when there were 

76 



so many more important things on which to use her mind. 
That had been Rosemary Quinn's trouble, Caroline always 
thought, though it was too much to hope that Janet also 
might one day talce the veil. With only one child, Irma 
would undoubtedly talk her out of it. Caroline had no 
sympathy for such selfish mothers. If one of her sons 
should have a vocation, how proud she would be! Paul, of 
course, was too much like her to be happy in the religious 
life, but she would certainly never stand in Peter's way. 

"I'd like to get hold of a copy, anyway," Peter was say- 
ing. "Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men was darn good." 

"But Mother Celestine says this Grapes of Wrath ought 
to be on the Index," Janet argued. 

"I'll bet she hasn't even read it!" laughed Peter. 

"Well, I heard it's just a lot of Communist propaganda," 
Paul announced, as if to settle the subject. 

Paul was probably right, Caroline suspected, but she 
was not one to venture an opinion where uncertainty was 
likely to be shown up at once. 

"Why don't you ask Father Nolan up at Springbuiy 
about it some Sunday?" Irma suggested. 

"I'm afraid he wouldn't know," said Peter. "Springbury 
is probably still reading Gone With The Wind." 

"It might be a good idea, though, as long as we have to 
drive ten miles to church, anyway," said Paul, adding with 
a grimace, "Boy, well have to get up in the middle of the 
night to make First Friday this week." 

"What gets me," said Frank, warming to a favorite com- 
plaint of all, "is not having any noon Mass there on 
Sundays." 

"Yes, we certainly deserve martyrs' crowns for that," 
said Bob with a twinkle. "But thai we're probably the first 

77 



city Catholics Springbury's ever had. If more came out 
this way for the summer, there'd be a church closer at 
hand" 

Caroline felt an implied reproach in that remark, but 
after all, in choosing a summer home one could not antici- 
pate every last detail. 

"It's certainly not much like St. Charles'," she observed, 
thinking of the fashion show that noon Mass there meant. 
"I noticed Sunday there seemed to be nothing but fisher- 
men and Italians from that canning factory." 

"Some fishermen have done pretty well in the Church," 
murmured Bob. "Some Italians, too." 

"Why do you suppose poor Father Nolan was ever sent 
away out in the sticks like that?" Irma wondered. "He 
was so popular when he was assistant at Immaculate 
Conception." 

"Oh, don't you remember?" Caroline loved to air her 
knowledge of diocesan affairs, which was more lively, if 
less accurate, than the chancellor's. "I thought everyone 
knew. The bishop didn't like the way he came out for 
Father Coughlin * 

"Good for the bishop," said Bob. "At least he keeps the 
Church out of politics if not politics out of the Church." 

"Just the same," Frank remarked, "I'll bet he'd rather 
see another Catholic mayor of Lakeport" 

Perhaps His Excellency might even be maneuvered 
into some token of approval for Bob's candidacy, thought 
Caroline. Not for nothing was she planning next week's 
luncheon so carefully. But at least Monsignor Straub- 
meyer should certainly be willing to do that much for 
his own flesh and blood. 

"I was just thinking how nice it would be," she said, 

78 



"just to show how proud real Catholics are of their faith 
if Uncle Francis could bless the opening of Bob's 
campaign." 

"Say, do you think he would?" asked Frank eagerly. 

"I don't see why not," Caroline said. "He's always 
blessed every other land of undertaking in the family." 

"What a break for us if we could get publicity on it!" 
Frank exclaimed. "Just one good picture of Monsignor 
with Bob would cinch every last Catholic vote in Lake- 
port. Remember how proud everyone was of him the time 
he squelched Bert Jordan's widow on that Birth Control 
Forum?" 

"You make it all sound so commercial," sighed Caroline 
in gentle reproof. "But I suppose you do know best about 
such things." 

So far so good, she reflected. Even Monsignor's unfor- 
tunate clash with Miriam could do no harm as long as 
the latter was unaware of the family connection. But not 
until she had heard what George Hartman had to say 
would Caroline rest easily. She had not long to wait, for 
it was less than an hour after dinner that the Hartmans 
and Joe Militello arrived. * 

"I guess we just hit the right time for traffic. Everyone 
else had stopped to eat," George boomed amid the first 
greetings in the back yard, which adjoined the road. He 
was a good-looking, gray-haired man whose effective plat- 
form manner, developed in his years as a lawyer, often 
carried over into conversation. 

Poor Joe's best navy serge was hopelessly out of place 
beside the twins' cool, blue linen slack suits, Caroline 
noted behind her most hospitable smile, but Pat, as usual, 
looked much smarter than Janet. 

79 



"What a smooth dress, Pat/' Janet was saying. "From 
New York?" 

"Oh, but def y " drawled Pat, removing her exotically 
dark sunglasses, "Lord knows I don't get down often 
enough, but I do like to buy a few of my things there. 
Dirndl, you know." She turned about to show the effect 
of the full, peasant skirt. "It's no Hattie Carnegie number, 
but at least they won't be showing it in Lakeport for 
months." 

"How was the Fair?" asked Peter politely as they en- 
tered the house. 

"Oh, all right - mostly tourist stuff." Pat was nothing 
if not blas& *Td rather have taken in more of the 
shows. That Philadelphia Story was slick. And we did 
see Brenda Frazier in the Stork Club." 

"Well, well, crashing cafe society?" laughed Janet. 

Loretta had brought Irma a dozen souvenir drinking 
glasses from the Fair, and for Caroline two pairs of salt 
and pepper shakers in the ubiquitous forms of the trylon 
and perisphere. After thanking her profusely (just as if 
she would be found dead using such things!), Caroline 
proceeded to show Loretta through the house, with Irma's 
unwanted help. 

"Say, this is grand!" Loretta exclaimed again and again, 
and finally remarked, *T11 bet it sets you back plenty." 

"Oh, we manage," said Caroline. Loretta was really 
quite common at times, she had begun to notice. 

"I wish we could get away for the whole summer like 
this. But George won't even commute to Crystal Bay, and 
Td hate to leave him alone in the city. Anyway, Pat gets 
invited to enough other girls' places to last her." 

"Bob doesn't mind staying in the city," Caroline said. 

80 



"Hell eat at my mother's, and, of course, he'll be out every 
week end and any other time he can get away. I think 
you spoil George." 

With that they rejoined the others on the terrace, where 
Olga now served cuba libres, ordered by Caroline as more 
suitable to the occasion than the usual beer. The five 
young people were given soft drinks. 

"Say, it'll be dark before we know it," said Paul pres- 
ently, "and I want to get a few shots of us around the fire. 
You know, 'Life Goes to a Wiener Roast/ We'd better go 
down and get Mimi." 

How like Paul to plunge right in, thought Caroline, 
waiting for Pat to ask who Mimi was. But she let Joe 
voice the question. 

"Mimi Jordan, Pat's cousin," was Paul's only explana- 
tion; though Peter added, "Just to keep the number even, 
you know." 

When they had gone, Loretta spoke up at once. 

"Then I take it you've met our friend Miriam?" 

"Oh, yes." Caroline was glad that she could say so 
truthfully now. "And I must say, Loretta, she was very 
sweet to me." 

"So was the Queen of England when I met her," 
laughed Loretta, "and itTl mean just about as much." 

"Well see." Just because Loretta was unacceptable to 
her patrician sister-in-law did not mean that she would be 
so, Caroline told herself. 

When the three men had finished their drinks, Frank 
suggested, to Caroline's intense annoyance, that they take 
a walk along the beach obviously so that they could 
talk politics among themselves. With more patience than 
she felt, she sat listening as Loretta chatted on about the 

81 



General Motors Futorama and Billy Rose's Aquacade. 
Fortunately, Irma made most of the right comments. 

Every time Peter or Paul came up the stairs to get some 
forgotten necessity for the roast, Caroline started in an- 
ticipation and then relaxed in disappointment. She could 
no longer even care much about who was paired off with 
whom down below. What if the other Democratic leaders 
had refused to support Bob? What if he should back out, 
after all? What if George had found someone else? When 
at last the three figures appeared at the head of the stairs, 
Caroline's look of relief was concealed only by the gather- 
ing darkness. 

"Well, ladies," George announced in his most eloquent 
tones, "may I present the next mayor of Lakeport - Dr. 
Robert E. Murray!" 

"Oh, Bobl" There were actually tears in Caroline s eyes 
as she went to kiss her husband. "I'm so proud of you!" 

"We're all going to be mighty proud of him, Caroline/' 
George went on, 'There's no better man for the highest 
office within the gift of the voters of Lakeport." 

"Though I never did see a man less anxious for it," said 
Frank with a rueful little laugh. Perhaps poor Frank him- 
self had once had mayoral ambitions, thought Caroline 
for the first time. Too bad. 

"But you must understand/' Bob was saying, "until elec- 
tion, my first duty to Lakeport will still be as Health 
Commissioner." 

"Of course, Bob," said George easily. "I knew when I 
appointed you that's the kind of Commissioner you'd 
make. The people won't forget, either, who checked that 
infantile epidemic two years ago, who enforced every 
sanitation law in the books, who * 

82 



"Listen to His Honor!" laughed Loretta. "Save that for 
the campaign, ton. You don't have to sell Bob to us." 

"We'll hardly have to sell him to the public, with a 
record like his," Frank observed. 

"Just you leave everything in our hands, Bob," George 
advised. "Managing a campaign is old stuff to us." 

"Let's see, what'd make a good slogan?" Frank specu- 
lated. "A vote for Murray is " 

"A vote for Murray," Bob suggested dryly. 

"Honor or no honor," Irma was saying, "I certainly don't 
envy you, Carrie." 

"We all have to take what comes our way," said Caro- 
line, feeling well disposed now even toward poor Irma, 
who was not clever enough, anyhow, to make a remark 
based on sour grapes. 

Completely satisfied for the present, Caroline could now 
see new beauty in everything the dim, twinkling lights 
of fishing boats on the horizon, scarcely distinguishable 
now from the stars above them both paled by tike string 
of fires that flamed from end to end of the beach. From 
the roast below came the youngsters' voices, singing softly, 
to the music of the portable radio, The Lamp Is Low. A 
Roman candle shot from somewhere burst into blazing 
ribbons of color against the evening sky a final magic 
touch to a perfect moment. 

"Isn't that song lovely?" Caroline murmured dreamily, 
recognizing it as one of the adapted classics so popular 
this summer. "I do love Tchaikovsky!" 

"But it's by Ravel, Mother." Peter's voice at her elbow 
shattered Caroline's mood; she had not seem him coming 
up the stairs in the darkness. "We're going over to the 
store to get more marshmallows." 

85 



"Well have to use our car, Dad, Have you got the 
keys?" came Janet's voice, as she stepped into view. 

"Here they are." Frank tossed them to Peter. 

Eager to share her triumph with anyone new, Caroline 
said, "You might tell Paul when you come back, Peter, 
your father has just agreed to run for mayor." 

"He has? That's great." Peter sounded more polite than 
enthusiastic. "I never knew you wanted to be mayor, 
Dad." 

"That's not always what matters most, son," said Bob. 
"But you and Paul would like it, wouldn't you?" 

"Oh, sure," said Peter. "Paul will love it." 

That dispelled the last of Caroline's momentary mellow- 
ness. Really, Peter could spoil anything with his queer 
attitudes! Always quick to take attained objectives for 
granted, Caroline could not stand the tiniest fly in an 
ointment so carefully prepared. A fine son for Lakeport's 
mayor Peter would make! She could see herself continu- 
ally explaining "Peter, my other son. Yes, he's with Janet 
Straubmeyer. No, she's not exactly his cousin. . . ." Then 
the whole sordid tale of Irma's first marriage would come 
out, linking the mayor's family forever to a cheap boot- 
legger's murder. No, that was not to be borne! Peter and 
Janet must be broken up once and for all. 

Not that Pat Hartman's plight of the evening mattered 
so much any more; it was the principle of Peter's disobe- 
dience that rankled. Deliberately defying his mother's ex- 
press wishes! What could one do with such a boy, to 
whom none of the niceties seemed to matter? He read so 
much, perhaps he was cut out for the priesthood ... If 
only he would develop a vocation, what a perfect solution 
to everything! And what a fitting crown to all her sacri- 

84 



fices for the Church! With a son studying for Holy Orders, 
surely Bob would go down as the most Catholic of all 
Catholic mayors in Lakeporfs history. And after all, 
Peter's quiet ways had led more tfran one person to 
remark what a fine priest he would make. 

But there was all summer to think about that. He might 
still catch on with one of Mimi's friends if he were given 
enough opportunity. The first step now was to see that 
both Irma and Janet left for the city tonight when Frank 
did. They had been invited for the week end, and Caro- 
line did not mean to have them stay one moment longer. 
Among other reasons, she had no intention of letting the 
name of Straubmeyer be brought too often to Miriam 
Jordan's notice. 

Peter's brief comment had caught Janet's attention as 
well as his mother's. 

"Why did you say that, Peter?" she asked, getting into 
her stepfather's car. "Wouldn't you like your father to be 
mayor?" 

"Well, yeah, sure, I suppose so." Peter was trying hard 
to analyze his confused feelings, which he had difficulty 
in expressing even to Janet. "It'd be nice and all that, only 
I just know Dad would rather be a doctor, that's all. 
Maybe on account of wanting to be one myself, I can 
sort of understand how he feels." 

"And Paul wouldn't, would he?" Janet observed. 

"Oh, well, you know how Paul is." Peter kept his eyes 
on the stretch of road picked out of the unrelieved dark- 
ness by the headlights. He found the subject of his twin 
even harder to discuss than himself. "He kind of rushes 
right ahead without thinking sometimes, but you know it's 
just that he doesn't think." 

85 



"Sure," said Janet, "but there are times when he ought 
to think! Like tonight. Pat always gives me a pain with 
those Sem girl airs, but I couldn't help feeling sorry when 
she caught on that Joe was her date. That was pretty hard 
to take." 

"Well, that's really as much my fault as Paul's/' said 
Peter. "My mother wanted " 

"Oh, Peter, sometimes I could just shake you!" Janet 
broke in. "It was not your fault! Why should you pull 
Paul's irons out of the fire? He wouldn't have got in such 
a fix if he wasn't trying to be such a wolf." 

"Now, Jan, that's not quite fair," Peter protested. "He 
can't help it if he's so popular. He always has been. You 
know that. I don't mind." 

"But why should he be? What's he got that you haven't 
got?" 

"Oh, I don't know a smooth line, maybe. He keeps it 
in practice, too. I just don't bother trying to make every 
new girl I meet. You know me, the serious type. But look 
at what I've got that he hasn't got!" He slipped his arm 
around her shoulders. 

"That's just why I don't like to see you getting over- 
looked for Paul all the time. After all, he's only a few 
minutes older than you." 

"It doesn't bother me, Jan, honest. Paul and I are too 
close ever to be jealous or anything like that. We just want 
different things, that's all." 

"I know, Peter. Probably I shouldn't even have brought 
it up. But sometimes it makes me sick the way even your 
mother seems to consider him ahead of you." 

"Maybe he needs it more. I think I can get along 



better on my own, without having to impress everyone all 
the time. But I do all right. We get along, don't we?" 

"So far." Janet put her head on his shoulder. "But I'll 
certainly be surprised if I see much of you this summer." 



Chapter 3 

"I CAN'T get over what a fine place you've got here, 
Carrie," said Monsignor Straubmeyer again, looking about 
the living room. These September days were getting a bit 
too chilly for sitting on the shaded terrace. "I'm sorry I 
didn't get out before/' 

"Oh, I realized how busy you are most of the time, 
Uncle," Caroline assured him. "But I knew the girls of 
the Rosary and Altar Society would love having you ad- 
dress our little luncheon yesterday." 

Coming from St. Charles* parish, they at least had ap- 
preciated the honor shown them. Caroline was still a little 
disappointed that the presence of the Right Reverend 
Francis X. Straubmeyer, now that she was entertaining 
him, had attracted so little notice in Springbury, where 
he had said the ten o'clock Mass this morning. Since in his 
unaccountable way he had forbidden the flustered Father 
Nolan to make any announcement of the fact, few except 
regular readers of the Catholic Herald recognised the 
plump, white-haired priest as their Vicar-General. 

"If Td known how big the place is," he was saying, "I'd 
have asked you to let the orphans from St. John's hold 
their picnic here, so the nuns wouldn't have to rent a 
grove." 

"Too bad you didn't think of it in time," said Bob. 

"Perhaps some other year," Caroline suggested vaguely, 

88 



wondering how she would ever have averted such a 
ghastly possibility. Imagine even hoping to foist a lot of 
other people's brats on her in a place like Sunrise Point! 
Monsignor did not know how lucky he was to be here 
himself much less why he had been invited. 

All conversation ceased now, Paul put down the Sunday 
comics and Peter closed his book, eagerly turning toward 
the radio as the strains of Over The Rainbow were inter- 
rupted by another dispatch from Paris. Really, Caroline 
reflected, the men were getting as bad as poor Irma with 
her daytime serials. 

Since Friday, when the Germans had marched into 
Poland, the air had been tense with ominous news flashes 
and still more ominous commentaries; yet now the actual 
announcement that England and France had declared war 
struck a slight chill even to Caroline's heart. On second 
thought, however, she realized how glad the whole Demo- 
cratic party would be now that they had chosen Bob 
instead of some German-named candidate. Yes, this would 
certainly eliminate Dieterle at the primaries. 

Bob looked at Monsignor, who shook his head sadly, 
and Peter and Paul, a little pale beneath their deep tans, 
exchanged a grave glance. Why did Germany always have 
to be in the wrong? Caroline was wondering and allied 
with Italy, of all uncongenial countries. Even though she 
knew that no foreign war could ever again entangle 
America as the last one had, she was glad that her boys 
at least were not saddled with a German name. 

And the very thought of all those poor young Europeans 
being regimented for slaughter made her appreciate anew 
the relative charms of the most ascetic religious life for a 
boy an idea that had been growing on her all summer. 

89 



Yes, when God was so much more just to her than to those 
mothers over there, was it not her plain duty to sacrifice 
a son to His service? 

From the twins' childhood she had occasionally toyed 
with the thought that she had been doubly blessed for 
this very purpose one son for her and one for God 
but of late she had come to feel that now, if ever, was 
the time. Such a hostage, so to speak, would surely guar- 
antee the continuance of divine blessings; and in such a 
vital issue as Bob's campaign it was not wise to overlook 
any source of help, natural or supernatural. 

Indeed, she thought, as the men talked on about the war 
and the boys resumed their reading, she had done more 
for the campaign than Bob himself. Even the weeks when 
he had been too busy to leave the city at all, she sus- 
pected, were more occupied with checking the usual sum- 
mer increase of infantile paralysis than with advancing 
his political career. It was all very well to leave details 
to Frank and George, but surely they had not meant to be 
taken so literally. 

Not that they were not doing a good job. By the middle 
of July the first billboards had appeared all over Lakeport, 
urging in large red and blue letters on a white back- 
ground the candidacy of Dr. Robert E. Murray, Commis- 
sioner of Health "Upright Fearless Humane/* Caro- 
line still preferred the more imposing form "R. Emmett," 
but she recognized Frank's wisdom in playing up what 
he called the "just folks" angle. She even allowed herself 
to be seen and photographed with the Lakeport Demo- 
cratic Women's League and other groups she normally 
despised. After all, any dignity sacrificed now could be 
more than retrieved after the election. 

90 



Indeed, Caroline had actually gone so far as to endure 
Dr. and Mrs. Militello for a whole Sunday, simply because 
of his influence among the Italian element. Only Joe had 
been invited with them, though Caroline expressed many 
regrets that they had not thought to bring the other chil- 
dren. The doctor, of course, expected to be made Health 
Commissioner when Bob became mayor. 

With all fall to conciliate such people, however, Caro- 
line did not let even the exigencies of the campaign seri- 
ously interfere with her major strategy of penetrating 
Sunrise Point. She was glad that Miriam Jordan naturally 
did not see the Catholic Herald, in which the photograph 
of Bob and Monsignor Straubmeyer had appeared shortly 
after Frank thought he had the idea. It would hardly 
further a budding friendship to have the Murrays so pub- 
licly linked to a man of whom Miriam could have only the 
most unpleasant memories. So Caroline's guest list for the 
most part had been extremely select. 

Her parents, dutifully invited early in the season, had 
declined, with her father's complaint about the long ride 
and her mother's protest that she would feel out of place 
among families in whose households so many of her 
friends had worked or still worked. Caroline did not 
press the point And, of course, even Mama and Papa had 
to admit that it would be too much bother to drive all the 
way into the city every other Sunday just for the family 
dinners. As for Irma, with Frank so busy on the campaign, 
it was easy enough to encourage her wifely inclination to 
stay in Lakeport with him. Thus Caroline had not seen 
much of any of her relatives since June. 

On the same principle she had used much discretion in 
playing hostess to her various Catholic organizations. 

91 



None but the smaller, more exclusive groups rated an in- 
vitation to Sunrise Point. The Catholic Charities Board 
had been followed, at well-spaced intervals, by the Lake- 
port Trinity Alumnae; the executive council of Court 
Gibbons, local chapter of the Catholic Daughters of Amer- 
ica; and the officers of the International Federation of 
Catholic Alumnae's Lakeport Circle. Only yesterday, the 
second of September, did she relent enough to entertain 
the St. Charles Borromeo Rosary and Altar Society. They 
had made a fairly smart appearance, after all, and also 
provided a good excuse for inviting Monsignor. 

But for aU her care, she might just as well have set a 
cross on top of the house and welcomed whole communi- 
ties of priests and nuns every day. The budding friend- 
ship with Miriam had apparently been nipped by the 
social frost that seemed a permanent part of the Sunrise 
Point atmosphere. As week after week passed, with no 
more than the most casual greetings, with never an invi- 
tation, never even a call, formal or otherwise, from Miriam 
or anyone else, the much-vaunted privacy of Sunrise Point 
began to pall on Caroline more than she would admit. 

By now she could almost envy Frank and Irma, spend- 
ing this Labor Day week end at Crystal Bay with the 
Hartmans, who had been staying there since mid- August. 
There the Saturday night country club dances soon made 
even the newest residents feel at home, and, since most 
were Catholics, there, too, Mrs. R. Emmett Murray had 
always been an outstanding figure. At times Caroline was 
half -inclined to devise some plan whereby she could re- 
turn to Crystal Bay next summer without losing face. 
Her one comfort, Paul's connection with Mimi Jordan, 
could be kept up easily enough by other means. 

92 



But on the other hand, she could always take refuge in 
the future a future in which she saw herself presiding 
at official functions, heaping coals of fire on the heads of 
Miriam and her friends by her particular graciousness 
toward them. Perhaps, after all, it was only the aristocratic 
breeding of Sunrise Point hostesses that kept them from 
accepting a newcomer the very first year. Another sum- 
mer especially as the mayor's wife would surely make 
her one of them. Having come so far, she was determined 
not to look back this time. Nor would there be any need 
to, once the election was won. 

At worst, however, all this was a negative irritation, of 
a kind she had experienced before in far sharper forms. 
What bothered her more actively was the continued prob- 
lem of Peter. Though she had never again invited Janet 
out to stay and had discouraged Peter from dating her in 
the city, she had come to realize that she was making no 
progress whatsoever. 

Polite and sociable enough, Peter still threw away 
every opportunity to solidify his position among Mimfs 
friends. He refused even to be paired with the same girl 
more than once. Caroline could not imagine whence he 
inherited such a stubborn nature. Yet more and more she 
saw in him the makings of a very satisfactory priest. In- 
deed, who but a priest could get along with so little social 
sense? Peter seemed to avoid all efforts to draw him out 
on the subject, but, Caroline told herself, that was only 
because he had never thought about it seriously enough. 

Besides, she asked herself, seeking justification by 
precedent, what about those noble European families who 
always destined one son for a career in the Church? Only 
last winter she had read the memoirs of an Austrian 

93 



baroness whose brother, entering the Jesuits in that tradi- 
tion, had gone far in Franz Joseph's court. Although her 
own ancestors came of humble Bavarian stock, Caroline 
had always been fascinated by the atmosphere of imperial 
Vienna, since the days when she had cut pictures of the 
then reigning Hapsburgs from the Sunday supplements. 
She still enjoyed romanticized biographies and nostalgic 
novels of that era in the beloved capital, for she was con- 
vinced that such a society, German in culture and Catho- 
lic in creed, was the one in which she would have been 
most completely at home. There her position as the wife 
of a professional man would have been equal to anyone's 
below the titled aristocracy, and even their rank was at 
least based on centuries of leadership. Thus from her ex- 
tensive, if second-hand, knowledge of this Continental 
world, Caroline was satisfied that her plans for Peter were 
in accord with an accepted Catholic practice, even if it 
was not often followed in modern America. 

"I guess 111 go out and get a little more tan," Peter was 
saying now. "Coming, Paul?" 

"Why don't you go down and bring Mimi back for a 
game of badminton, Paul?" Caroline suggested, seeing 
her opportunity for a talk with Peter. "You won't have 
much time tomorrow, you know." 

"Good idea, Mother," said Paul, open to suggestion as 
usual. She waited until he had disappeared down the 
stairs to the beach before she went out to the side lawn 
and sat down on the blanket where Peter stretched, 
reading. 

"Is your book interesting, dear?" she asked. She tried 
to keep up with his reading since that day last month 
when she had found him with a novel by that Farrell man 

94 



from Chicago, who, even she had heard, was not a nice 
writer for Catholics to read. 

"Yeah, swell" Peter sat up and brushed a persistent 
lock of hair out of his eyes. Then, catching her meaning, 
he blushed faintly beneath his tan and added with a smile, 
"Don't worry, Mother, it's Monsignor by Doran Hurley 
strictly Catholic Book Club. Uncle Francis brought it out 
with him, in fact.** 

"Monsignorl" mused Caroline lightly. "It sounds like the 
perfect book for Uncle. But you, Peterl Tve never seen a 
boy read so much about priests and Catholic things/' 

Peter's high forehead furrowed as he gazed thoughtfully 
out over the lake a moment 

"I guess I just like to read about things I know about," 
he said then. "And I certainly know more about Catholic 
life than I do about all that glamorous historical stuff 
Paul likes." 

"But it does show which way your mind runs," Caroline 
observed. "You know, if either of my boys ever does feel a 
vocation, I wouldn't want hnn to let anything stand in 
the way." 

"Of course not, Mother. But I don't think you'll ever 
have to worry about losing Paul or me that way." 

"You never can tell," Caroline persisted. "Father Car- 
mody was as popular as a boy could be in our young 
days and look what a wonderful priest he's made. And, 
of course, you never have gone around with girls much, 
have you?" 

"What about Janetr 

"Oh, Janet!" Caroline gave a tolerant little laugh. Tve 
always brought you up to look upon her as a first cousin. 
And till lately I always thought you did." 

95 



"Why till lately, Mother?" 

"Oh, you know what I mean, Peter. You're growing up 
now. In a very few weeks you'll be a college man, making 
new contacts, meeting new people. Don't you think it's 
about time you outgrew this well, this little high school 
affair with Janet?" 

"You mean I should give her the air like Paul did Pat 
Hartman?" 

"I didn't say that." Carotene was vexed at her son's 
bluntness. "Janet is a sweet enough child, we all know. 
But there are so many girls you could take out, with 
shall we say nicer backgrounds?" 

"What's wrong with Janet's background?" Peter's tone 
had an edge of defiance in it now, Caroline thought. 

"Need I go into detail, Peter? Even if she does use your 
Uncle Frank's name, you know a great many people still 
remember that her real father was one of the most notori- 
ous bootleggers in Lakeport." 

"Just as many must remember about Mimi Jordan's 
father killing him." 

"But that was different." Peter's way of reducing things 
to their bare essentials made it hard for Caroline to keep 
her tone one of sweet reasonableness. "Until he lost his 
mind after the stock market crash, poor Mr. Jordan was 
a prominent banker, respected by everyone," 

"That's not the way Aunt Irma tells it," Peter countered. 

"Your Aunt Irma often looks at things differently than 
we do," said Caroline. "And I'm afraid Janet takes after 
her." 

"But honest, Mother, I have twice as much fun with 
her as I do with any of Mimf s crowd, We have so much 
in common ** 

96 



Peter could not put into words all he felt about the 
whole situation, but he did know that he had conscien- 
tiously tried Mimi's set and found it wanting. On her 
recommendation, to be sure, everyone else was very 
friendly; indeed, they all fairly sparkled with applied 
charm, as if going out of their way to show that they really 
felt no difference at all between them and the Murrays. 
But there were fundamental differences, and they had 
become increasingly clear to Peter. 

Some of the girls were very attractive, he was well 
aware, with their upswept hair or extreme page-boy bobs, 
and clothes and make-up such as he had hitherto seen 
only on models in magazines. Many attended finishing 
schools further East, and spoke casually of Yale and Har- 
vard proms. Most seemed to have quaint, perky nick- 
names like the maids in a Dickens novel - Sally, Betsy, 
Nancy, Polly, and the like. Such distinctions, all new to 
Peter, had at first made them seem a refreshing change 
from the girls he had always known. 

The boys he had never liked. They had started out 
frankly suspicious of the twins, and even now Peter re- 
sented the patronizing note in their "Murray, old chap" 
manner. Most of them had "IIF or "IV" after their names 
in the society columns, and their first names were often 
the last names of related families, well known in Lake- 
port - Keith, Winthrop, Fenton, and so on. They all fa- 
vored crew haircuts and sport clothes right out of Esquire, 
worn with conscious sloppiness, and drove low-slung 
roadsters that belonged to them, not their parents. Most 
were from Nottingham, Lakeport's "country day school 
for boys," which by a system of forms, masters, and head 
boys as much as possible like that of the British "public" 

97 



schools, prepared the sons of the very rich for the Ivy 
League universities, where, of course, they would imme- 
diately be pledged by the very best fraternities. 

If Peter could have reached a final analysis, he would 
have concluded that all of Mimf s friends, even the most 
democratic, had in some way been spoiled by too many 
privileges and too few responsibilities. Their highest 
standard of conduct was a very flexible convention which 
consisted chiefly in saving appearances; church to them 
was a place to hear nice music and dull sermons at Christ- 
mas and Easter. This was the difference Peter sensed and 
minded most, much as he disliked making a parade of 
piety or even discussing religion with most people. It was 
not his faith so much as the whole way of life it meant 
that made him feel forever an alien in the midst of these 
new acquaintances. That was what kept even Paul and 
Pat Hartman from being quite like them. But all this could 
hardly be explained to his mother, who would never 
understand why he could not do everything the same 
as Paul. 

"Very well, Peter," said Caroline coldly as she rose, "if 
you will be stubborn about it. You know Tve always let 
you and Paul choose your own friends. I'm just trying to 
help you over a phase of puppy love youTl look back on 
in later years only with embarrassment." 

"I know you are, Mother.** 

Caroline steeled herself against the wistful smile that 
was Peter's greatest charm. 

"And I will think over what you said. But don't be mad 
if I don't change my mind about Janet." 

Peter returned to his book, as Caroline went back into 
the living room. Well, she had given him his chance, she 

98 



thought grimly. If lie was unwilling to lead a normal social 
life like Paul, then surely in the long run he would he far 
happier in the Church. There, safe from temptations to 
the willfulness which seemed to be his ruling fault, he 
could lead a far more useful life than in a world to whose 
conventions he would not conform. Yes, he was simply too 
young to know what was best for him. 

But if he refused to see this truth just because she 
pointed it out, perhaps it would be a different story com- 
ing from Monsignor. His visit, indeed, had been planned 
as a trump card for this very purpose; Peter had 
always been Monsignor's favorite, just as Paul was his 
grandfather's. 

"It's really lovely out now," Caroline reported to the 
men. "Much too nice for Peter to have his nose in a book 
all day. I bet he'd love to play badminton with Mimi and 
Paul if there were a fourth. Why don't you join them, 



"I was just going to challenge Monsignor to a game of 
horseshoes," Bob explained. 

"Badminton will be less tiring for you, dear. Ill enter- 
tain Uncle." Caroline smiled archly. "Anyway, it's been 
ages since IVe had a good visit with him." 

Agreeably, Bob went out, and when Paul appeared 
with Mimi, Peter and his father played doubles against 
them. 

"You have so much to do, Uncle," said Caroline pres- 
ently, having brought the conversation to a suitable point, 
"and yet you always have time to help us out when we're 
worried.** 

"Are you worried now, Carrie? About the election?" 

"Oh, no! If it were only as simple as that!" Caroline 

99 



sighed and then achieved a heroic smile. "But I mustn't 
be telling you all my troubles when I asked you out here 
to enjoy yourself." 

"Now, Carrie, if there's any way I can help, I have 
every right to know, both as a priest and as your uncle." 

"You're so understanding! I suppose I may as well ad- 
mit, then, I am rather worried about Peter." 

"Peter?" Monsignor looked surprised. "Such a fine lad! 
How could he give you cause to worry?" 

"Well, it's rather hard to explain. But all summer I've 
had the feeling that Peter may really have a vocation 
only he's fighting against it." 

"But why should he do that?" 

"I don't know," Caroline confessed. "Perhaps he doesn't 
want to leave Paul. Or maybe it's Janet's influence, I don't 
know." 

"I always thought he wanted to be a doctor," Monsignor 
observed. "What makes you think he's inclined to the 
priesthood?" 

"Oh, a mother can tell!" said Caroline easily. "The 
things he says, the books he reads! And, of course, Peter's 
always been the quieter of the twins. Even now he seems 
to take very little interest in going around like Paul does." 

"Don't I see him sometimes at St. Henry's dances with 
Janet?" 

"Oh, well, you know how that is. When he has to take a 
girl somewhere, he turns to Janet as he would to a sister." 

"Is that so?" the priest inquired. "But has he any reason 
to think you or Bob wouldn't approve of a vocation?" 

"Oh, nol IVe even tried to encourage him a little, but 
I suppose he knows I'm just trying to be unselfish. He 
probably realizes how much we'd hate to lose him." 

100 



"A peculiar situation all around," Monsignor remarked. 
"I hardly know what advice to give you." 

''Well, what I thought, Uncle," said Caroline, quickly 
coining to the point, "was that you might give him some 
advice. He has such great respect for your opinion in 
everything, you know.** 

"Did he ever talk to any of the priests at the high 
school about it?" 

"Not that I know of. But then the idea of joining an 
order might not appeal to him so much. He always had 
you to look up to before he knew any Jesuits." 

"Then you think I should tell him more about the life 
of the secular clergy?" 

"Yes, something like that. And how unimportant every- 
thing else in the world is beside a true vocation." 

The priest was silent a moment. Then he looked at 
his niece. 

"I tell you what, Carrie," he said. "Suppose we let him 
come to me when he feels the need for advice. If he 
has a real vocation, he will come, sooner or later." 

"Then you're not going to say anything to Mm while 
you're out here?" Caroline could barely conceal her 
disappointment. 

"No, Carrie. You can't hurry these things. If he's meant 
to be a priest, hell be one some day in spite of anything 
we can say or do one way or the other. But even so, one 
premature word now might do more harm than good." 

"Yes, I see what you mean." Caroline was raging in- 
wardly. 'Then you needn't tell anyone I mentioned this 
at aH" 

"Of course not, Carrie. And don't worry. If it's God's 
will, Peter will make up his mind, all in good time." 

101 



That might not be soon enough, fumed Caroline. There 
was such a thing as leaving too much to God! Outwardly, 
she dropped the subject for a casual discussion of the 
Catholic side of the campaign, but her thoughts were 
not so easily diverted. The trouble, she decided, was that 
Monsignor was just too old fashioned, with his absurdly 
strict notion of a vocation as a literal divine calling, 
unaided by human forces. The pastor of St. Charles' 
would probably prove much the same type, she knew, 
and the Jesuits at St. Ignatius High, of course, were no 
longer in a position to influence Peter. 

The only ray of hope Caroline could see was the 
parents' society she had been planning for some time 
to organize at the college, to compensate for her enforced 
retirement from the High School Mothers. (Even if such 
creatures could do nothing else, they could vote.) But, 
of course, it would still take some time to get to know 
any of the faculty well enough for her purpose. 

Then, in one of those flashes of inspiration to which 
she owed so much of her success, Caroline remembered 
that Russell Cannody would be teaching at the college 
this fall! What would be easier than to ask for him as 
moderator when she received the president's permission 
to organize the parents? Beneath the brilliant surface of 
the intellectual Jesuit priest there must remain something 
of the boy who had once cared, or thought he cared, for 
her, Caroline was sure, knowing how much there was 
in herself of the girl who had loved Bert Jordan. 

Russell had certainly been friendly enough at the 
twins' graduation. She would have to forget that silly 
feeling that he was always seeing through her. What was 
there to see, anyhow, but a woman's anxiety for the best 

102 



interests of her family as a whole? If Russell had any 
other ideas . . . well, that was a chance she would have 
to take. Under the circumstances, he seemed her best 
possible bet. Yes, he should be willing to do that much 
for old times' sake. Such a practical, human, modern 
priest was bound to be more co-operative than Uncle, 
with his unworldly ideals, 

The badminton game was interrupted now as the 
four players came in to hear the two o'clock news flashes, 
Mimi apparently listening as intently as anyone. Girls 
were different nowadays, Caroline reflected tolerantly. 
But she did wonder how Bob could possibly be so inter- 
ested in anything as remote as a war in Europe, with 
the primary elections hardly a week away. 



103 



Chapter 4 



NOT unacquainted with the name and fame of Mrs. R. 
Emmett Murray, Father O'Shea, rector of St. Ignatius 
College, was only too pleased with her offer to organize 
a parents' group for fostering school spirit. He readily 
understood her preference for working with someone she 
knew well, like Father Carmody. But so busy was 
Caroline picking up the threads of many other activ- 
ities dropped since June that it was not until the second 
Wednesday of September - the day after the primaries 
made Bob the official Democratic candidate for mayor 
that she found time to follow up her intentions. 

It was also the day of the opening bridge luncheon of 
the Newman Guild of the St. Vincent de Paul Hospital, 
but Caroline seldom stayed for cards at such affairs. Let 
other women waste their time gossiping and playing 
bridge, she always said to herself; she had better things 
to do. She thought with satisfaction of the meeting of 
the Catholic Charities Board this morning, when the 
case of that wretched Italian family named Antonucci had 
come up for final judgment. The father, a bricklayer, had 
been crippled by a fall last year. Since then they had 
lived on savings and odd earnings by the mother and 
children; workmen's compensation was hardly adequate 
to support so many. Now with all the children back in 
school after a summer of fruit picking, the mother had 

104 



applied to the diocese for help, for since they had 
managed to hold on to their own home, they were not 
eligible for city relief. 

The bishop, in his softhearted way, had almost been 
taken in by the woman's melodramatic boohooing, but 
not Caroline. As she pointed out to the other board 
members, until the house was sold they could not in 
conscience waste the funds entrusted to them, any more 
than the city could. When she learned that there was 
a son Nick going into his junior year at St. Ignatius 
College, her righteous indignation had known no bounds. 
What if he did have a football scholarship? Let him go 
out and get a Job before his parents tried to take money 
out of the pockets of more deserving families. The govern- 
ment encouraged enough idleness, as it was. As one of 
the most generous contributors to all diocesan appeals, 
Caroline felt it her duty to protect the interests of those 
who, after all, footed the bills. 

It was still early afternoon when she parked the car 
before the entrance of the long, three-story, white-brick 
building that was St. Ignatius College. About the Main 
Street grounds more like a lawn than a campus, she 
thought an attendant was raking some of the first-fallen 
leaves, and here and there underclassmen (for the seniors 
would not return until next week) gathered about some 
popular priest or scholastic. Caroline was glad that her 
boys had come from St. Ignatius High, for, although no 
favoritism was shown, such students naturally fitted better 
into the Jesuit routine. Even graduates of the Christian 
Brothers' Institute, she gathered, got along better than 
the mere majority from the city's dozen public high 
schools. 

105 



Inside, Caroline recognized Joe Militello at the in- 
formation booth. The little green and white freshman 
cap and the name placard around his neck seemed rather 
out of place for an NYA worker on duty, she thought, 
though the same devices made the twins look delight- 
fully little-boyish, as their pictures in all the newspapers 
testified. Twin freshmen always made amusing feature 
stories especially the sons of such prominent parents. 

"Hello, Mrs. Murray" Joe smiled. "What can I do 
for you?" 

"I've come to see Father Carmody, Joe," said Caroline. 
"Will you call him, please?'* 

"He says for you to wait in Parlor A," Joe reported when 
he had returned from the switchboard. 

"Thank you, Joe." Caroline was slightly put out at the 
message, though not sure whether to blame Father 
Cannody or Joe. 

"Oh, say, Mrs. Murray, did my sister Rita call you up 
yet about that interview?" Joe asked. 

"Your sister? No, Joe. What interview?" 

"Well, Rita has charge of the alumnae column of the 
Mount Cannel paper this year," he explained. "For each 
issue she's going to interview a different outstanding 
graduate of the class of 1914." 

"Isn't that nice?" said Caroline. "And when will the 
first issue come out?" 

"A week from Friday, but she's got that one arranged." 

"Oh, indeed?" Caroline was piqued that any member 
of the class should be given precedence over her. "Who's 
the honored person, may I ask?" 

"Mrs. Hartman you know, on account of being the 
mayor's wife * 

106 



"Oh, I see." What Caroline saw was Joe's fine Italian 
hand in the choice. As she had feared, her Fourth of 
July arrangements had only thrown him and Pat Hartman 
together; since then they had been going out as often 
as Joe could afford. And Loretta, typically enough, did 
not even seem to mind. 

"YouTl be next, naturally, two weeks later," Joe went on. 

"So nice of Rita to think of me!" said Caroline, but her 
irony was lost on Joe. 

The paper won't be out till the first Friday of October, 
but I told her she'd better call you pretty soon if she 
wanted to make an appointment with you." 

"Yes, my time is hardly my own. But if she calls early 
enough, I may be able to work it in." 

"That'll be fine, Mrs. Murray. She'll do a good job 
on you." 

Caroline wondered. As she walked down the corridor, 
she noticed a large orange and black poster announcing 
the Freshman-Senior dance, which always opened the 
social season by welcoming new students to the college. 
Black cats emphasized the date of Friday, the thirteenth 
of October. A month from today, she noted, guessing 
whom her sons would escort; both would undoubtedly be 
named for the dance committee. Paul, of course, would 
bring MimL Theirs was one summer romance that would 
survive the winter if Caroline had anything to do with it. 
As for Peter well, at least, he should be out of Janet's 
clutches by then. 

The dismal confines of Parlor A were not calculated 
to cheer any visitor, and Caroline was not used to being 
kept waiting. All the green reed furniture clashed 
violently with the high, brown-mottled walls, on one of 

107 



which hung a painting of St. Ignatius, seated in rapt 
contemplation of a human skull. Obviously a room un- 
touched by feminine hands, thought Caroline in distaste, 
growing more impatient as the minutes passed. Then 
die door opened, and Russell stood on the threshold, 
in the long black cassock worn by Jesuits during their 
teaching hours. 

"Caroline, this is a surprise!" he exclaimed, with no 
apology for his lateness, as she stood up. 

"I hope you weren't busy, Father," she said pointedly, 
but he only replied with that good humor she found so 
irritating, "Never too busy to see an old friend! I was 
just preparing some notes for my extension course in 
adolescent psychology/' 

"Oh, the one Sister Marcella is going to take." Caroline 
sat down again, wondering if he was secretly laughing 
at her. "She says it should be very valuable/' 

"Does she now? I hope so. Well, I suppose youVe come 
to check up on those famous twins of yours." 

"Hardly that," she said, and smiled. "My, you'd think no 
twins ever went to college before, to read the papers. But 
we don't really mind, if the publicity helps St. Ignatius." 

"It didn't hurt your husband's campaign any, either," 
said Russell, "if I may judge by the results of tlie 
primaries." 

"Oh, yes, we're all quite pleased about that," Caroline 
said, deciding to take the remark as a compliment. "But 
IVe been thinking. All of us parents could really take 
more interest in the college than we do." 

"How do you mean?" Russell looked interested. 

"Well," Caroline explained, "most parents of college 
students aren't in touch with tibeir children as closely 

108 



as we are here. In a day school like this, there's so much 
we could do." 

"Translated into still simpler language, Caroline, what 
exactly does that mean?" 

"How you talk, Father!" She concealed her annoyance. 
"What should it mean? Except that organizing the parents 
is a good way of making the city more St. Ignatius- 
conscious. It's done wonders for the high school. The 
new chapel, you know, was paid for entirely by money 
from the mothers' card parties." 

"Well, well/' Russell leaned back in his chair, regard- 
ing her with a quizzical smile. "So now you want to do 
the same for the college. And any good will won for Dr. 
Murray's campaign, of course, is just a case of virtue's 
reward." 

"You will have your little joke, Father!" With Difficulty 
Caroline managed a fairly convincing laugh. "As if I ever 
thought of such a thing!" 

"As if you didn't!" chuckled the priest. "Even so, 
though, the idea is a good one. Father Rector was say- 
ing only the other day how hard it is to build up tradi- 
tions in a day school even after sixty years, And the 
parents are the one advantage we have over a boarding 
college. Half the fathers are St. Ignatius men themselves 
the half that went to college at all." 

"Then you think the idea has possibilities?" Caroline 
asked. 

"In more ways than one." Russell's tone was amused. 
"Of course, it involves a considerable amount of work." 

"You know you can count on me for that, Father," 
said Caroline virtuously. "I have had quite a bit of ex- 
perience along that line." 

109 



"You won't have Irma to handle the details here/' 
he warned. "But I suppose there's always some poor soul 
willing to pky secretary to your president." 

Though he spoke in a perfectly natural way, as if her 
real motives were an open secret between them, this 
attitude infuriated Caroline more by the minute. But she 
knew when it was best to smile and say nothing. After 
all, she had not yet achieved her main objective. 

"I knew you'd be just the one for faculty moderator,*' 
she said sweetly, "when I talked to Father O'Shea 
about it* 

"111 have one of the NYA boys make me a list of 
the parents/' Russell promised, as if the conversation 
were closing. 

"Can you tell the twins apart yet?" Caroline asked 
idly, drawing on her gloves. 

"I think so. Paul is the one with the pink cheeks, and 
Peter is the quiet one. Isn't that right?" 

"Yes," said Caroline with a little sigh. "Peter is the 
quiet one. Too quiet for his own good, I'm afraid." 

"Is that so?" Russell asked with new interest. 

"He's so different from Paul," Caroline went on. "Paul's 
a regular Andy Hardy with the girls, you know Pat 
Hartman one week, Mimi Jordan the next. But not 
poor Peter." 

"You mean Peter doesn't go out with girls?" Russell's 
mobile face was intent. He was not toying with her now, 
Caroline realized triumphantly. 

"Not really. He goes with no one but Janet and, as 
you know, she's been brought up like a first cousin to the 
boys almost a sister, in fact." 

"Indeed? But go on, you intrigue me. The psychological 

110 



differences between twins are among the most fascinating 
phenomena in my field and the most baffling." 

"Really?" Caroline was encouraged. Then Peter ought 
to make an interesting study for you." 

"Yes, he might, at that. It's strange, isn't it? Same 
heredity, same environment and yet so different." 

"Oh, completely." Caroline followed up her advantage. 
"Paul is so open such a good mixer." 

"Obviously an extrovert, while Peter is an introvert," 
Russell diagnosed. "I gathered that much from seeing 
them around school, but I never would have guessed 
Peter's maladjustment. Have you any idea what might 
be the cause?" 

"Well, yes," Caroline admitted. "I think the whole 
trouble is that Peter has a vocation, but he can't make 
up his mind to follow it. If only he would! Lots of boys 
younger than he went off to join the Order right from 
high school. Lord knows he's not easily influenced, but 
I think he needs someone to guide him some outside 
person." 

"Someone who can analyze his problems objectively, 
without the natural partiality of a parent?" 

"Exactly!" exclaimed Caroline, ready to forget all 
Russell's little barbs for the sake of his perfect grasp 
of the situation. Yes, she thought, there was nothing like 
a feminine appeal for help to bring out a man's better side. 
No one could be more tactful or understanding than 
Russell in his present mood. 

*Tve done my best with Peter," she continued wistfully, 
"but I'm just about at the end of my rope. You will try 
to advise him, won't you, Father?" 

"Of course," said Russell. "Both as a priest and a 

211 



psychologist, 111 do whatever I can for him. That's part 
of my job as student counselor. But why do you suppose 
he's so troubled about following a vocation? Wouldn't 
you approve?" 

"Father, what a question! Wouldn't any Catholic 
mother make the sacrifice, if necessary? Leaving Paul 
would be the worst part, I think." Yes, blame it all on 
Paul, she decided, anxious to minimize Peter's connection 
with Janet. "Different as they are, they've always been 
just like the one person too much so, perhaps," 

"So I've noticed. There's no chance of Paul's feeling 
a call to the religious life also, is there? 3 ' 

"Oh, no! That's what creates the conflict in Peter's 
mind, I suppose. But I'm sure you'll come to agree with 
me that the Church is really the ideal place for a boy 
of his peculiar temperament." Since her talk with 
Monsignor, she had been doing her rationalizing in even 
stronger terms; Russell would not be convinced by half- 
hearted statements. "It's such a lovely life, anyway. I often 
wish Td joined the convent, like Rosemary." 

"Do you, Caroline?" Russell's brown eyes held that 
teasing glint again, and she knew that she had broken 
the spell of their momentary meeting of minds. But no 
matter; her words about Peter had made just the im- 
pression she had hoped. 

"I suppose the sooner we get started on this parents' 
society the better/' she said briskly, as she picked up 
her purse and arose. "Friday evenings are usually best/ 7 

"Shall we try to plan the first meeting, then, for the 
first Friday of October?" 

"So many other groups meet the first Friday like 
the Mount parents. How about the second?" 

112 



"Well, I expect to be giving a novena down at St. 
Ignatius Church around that time. But I suppose I can 
manage it." Russell held the door open. 

"Well, then, Father, you can call me about anything 
that has to be done," said Caroline. "Anything at all! By 
the way, when will the twins be out of class? I can give 
them a lift home.'* 

"They should be through at three today, I think. You 
can wait in the library if you like." 

"Thank you. Thank you for everything!" Caroline 
beamed at him. "I knew I could depend on you, Russell 
I mean, Father. It's nice to know that someone under- 
stands^ 



113 



Chapter 5 



TO THE more blase upperclassmen at St. Ignatius, the 
three days of the am-mal retreat frankly meant no more 
than a welcome break in routine, interrupted by stretches 
of preaching as trite as it was well intended; but fresh- 
men, even those from the two Catholic high schools, were 
generally much impressed especially so this year, when 
their sessions held, as usual, in the gymnasium, apart 
from the rest of the school were conducted by the 
popular new professor of psychology, Father Carmody. 

Thus there was a note of real spiritual exaltation in the 
two hundred voices of the class of *43, as, to Joe Mili- 
tello's accompaniment on the wheezy portable organ, 
they set the old gym echoing with: 

Ho-ly Gaw-awd, we prai-aise Thy Name, 
Lord of aw-all, we bow-ow before Thee. 

After three days of intense soul searching new to most, 
the final morning of the retreat, always the first Friday 
of October, brought a sense of lighthearted relief not 
unaided, perhaps, by the prospect of a free breakfast to 
follow, though only those from St. Ignatius High could 
anticipate the invariable menu of oranges, hard rolls, and 
coffee. At the moment, the pungent fragrance of the 
benediction incense still pervaded the air, floating in little 
swirls of smoke on the autumn sunlight that slanted down 
from the high windows. 

114 



Awaiting the final notes of the hymn, Father Carmody 
stood with the back of his gold-fringed cope toward the 
retreatants, flanked by the Murray twins, whom, to the 
envy of many, he had chosen to serve on the improvised 
altar throughout the services. A picturesque trio they 
made, the dark-haired priest in his rich sacred vestments, 
the blond acolytes in red cassocks and snowy surplices. 

All dropped respectfully to their knees now, as the 
priest, preceded by Paul tinkling the altar bell and 
followed by Peter, carried the Eucharist from the build- 
ing. Immediately, there was a general rush for the door 
and across the football field toward the main building, 
though Peter and Paul, of course, conscious of their 
responsibility, walked sedately with Father Carmody, to 
the same destination but by way of the street. Only after 
the Host was lodged in the tabernacle of the school 
chapel did they take off their robes in the vestry. 

"What's your hurry, boys?" asked Father Carmody, 
unwilling to lose such an opportunity to talk to them. 
There'll be plenty of food left." 

"Not if I know the freshman class!" Peter was pulling 
off the surplice over his head. 

"When the Jewies give something away, it's not to be 
missed," laughed Paul, rapidly unbuttoning his cassock. 

Russell laughed too. The many unpriesdy qualities 
once attributed to Jesuits were now a standing joke 
like the popular saying that the "S.J." after their names 
meant "Soft Job " 

"You're both coming to the Sodality meeting today, 
aren't you?" he inquired. "The winner of the play contest 
is going to be announced." 

"Oh, sure," answered Paul, already moving toward the 

115 



door, but Peter said, "Sorry, Father, this is my day to 
teach catechism down at St. Dominic's for the St. V. 
de P., you know." 

As he heard them clattering downstairs to the cafeteria 
in the basement, Russell again experienced that sense of 
complete bafflement with which the Murray twins always 
left him. "Brushed off 7 was the expression, he thought. 
Never in all his days as a Jesuit had he been so brushed 
off by anyone, much less by a couple of schoolboys whom 
he had gone out of his way to befriend. Rather, having 
long since overcome his own youthful shyness, he took 
pride in his ability to win the wholehearted confidence 
of any student 

He was too shrewd a psychologist not to recognize that 
these pleasant, transient friendships in a sense com- 
pensated him for the emotional satisfaction most laymen 
found in their families. Instead of being limited to a few 
individuals, his paternal instincts were sublimated and 
diffused among the countless boys he had taught and 
would teach. Indeed, he could come closer to them than 
their own fathers, for they would tell him things as a 
priest that their parents would never know. But he also 
realized and guarded against the easy temptation to let 
such personal satisfaction become more important to him 
than the ultimate motive behind all the life he had 
chosen. Even the guidance of youth was good only in so 
far as it carried on the work of the Order and therefore 
that of God, Russell tried always to keep in mind. 

The Murray twins, apparently as popular and well- 
adjusted as any two boys could be, had interested him 
but slightly until their mother's visit. Since then they 
had become a puzzle that grew more tantalizing as time 

116 



went on and he still came no nearer the solution. If Peter 
had a vocation, as his mother continued to hint in tele- 
phone conversations about the parents* society, Russell 
wanted to help him follow it into the Order where ha 
himself had found such content. If not, he wanted to rid 
Caroline of the idea once and for all. But to sound out 
Peter's real attitude on so serious a question, it was first 
necessary to establish a certain bond of intimacy, and 
this was where the priest, for almost the first time, had 
to confess failure. 

Courteous and friendly though both boys were, he 
hardly knew them any better now than that day last 
June when he had first laid eyes on them. Jesuit trained, 
grand-nephews of a monsignor, they certainly could not 
be "priest shy," like some of the boys from the public 
high schools. Yet some indefinable reserve always kept 
him at arm's length. On the surface, at least, they had 
inherited just enough of their mother's cool poise to stop 
Russell in his tracks and leave him inwardly as bewildered 
and ill at ease as he might have expected them to feel. 

Following a procedure that usually worked, he had 
taken them to dinner and the theater once, and they had 
reciprocated, but even over midnight coffee in the most 
secluded booth of a downtown restaurant, conversation 
had been utterly casual. All his leading remarks about 
the joys of the priestly life had been left hanging in 
mid-air or else were swept away in a stream of chatter, 
as far as he could see. Three was still a crowd, even if 
two were as close as Peter and Paid. Or perhaps because 
of that. At school no sooner would he begin a chat with 
Peter than Paul would turn up, or vice versa. They were 
inseparable; Caroline was certainly right about that. 

117 



Indeed, as moderator of the Sodality, Russell saw more 
of Paul, who, having been sodality prefect at high school, 
evidently appreciated the social contacts to be made on 
the several occasions during the year when girl and boy 
sodalists from all the high schools and colleges of the 
diocese gathered, presumably to settle some burning 
Catholic issue of the day. Perhaps Paul already had his 
eye on the prefectship of the college Sodality, which 
carried with it the presidency of the whole diocesan 
conference. 

By one means or another, all the more promising 
freshmen, including even Peter, had been brought into 
the Sodality, which under Father Carmody's reviving 
influence was becoming a veritable honor society for 
present and future campus leaders especially those who 
would never have joined the only other religious organ- 
ization, the school's St. Vincent de Paul Society. The latter 
group, which did both spiritual and material welfare 
work in the poorer parishes of the city, seemed to Russell 
worthy enough, and good experience for its moderator, 
that gangling young scholastic named Noonan; but hardly 
calculated to attract the average undergraduate. AH very 
well for students of social science, no doubt, but for an 
Arts man like Peter Murray to neglect the Sodality in 
favor of such pursuits was so unusual that Russell could 
only conclude that Caroline might well be right about 
her son*s religious inclination. 

Peter had not even submitted an entry to the Sodality 
one-act play contest, Father Carmody's pet project, the 
winner of which was to be produced by the college 
players at the various schools of the conference, in honor 
of the approaching four-hundredth anniversary of the 

118 



chartering of the Order. Soldier of God, Paul's facile 
and colorful episode from the life of Pere Marquette, 
though obviously written with a minimum of research 
and a maximum of imagination., would play the best of 
any, Russell's keen theatrical sense recognized^ so to that 
he was reluctantly awarding the prize. 

The whole attitude of the Murray twins was especially 
disappointing because he had expected that in Lakeport, 
where so many families had known him all his life, there 
would be no problem in winning the confidence of the 
younger generation. More ambitious men might have 
considered the intellectual backwater of St. Ignatius a 
virtual exile in this quatrocentennial year, which would 
be celebrated with such ceremony at all the larger Jesuit 
institutions, but Russell realized that suavely presenting 
the Catholic viewpoint at influential gatherings in New 
York or Washington, like more than one of his fellow 
Jesuits, was not for him. Although at times the sight of 
the Queens Work pamphlet rack in the first floor 
corridor made him wish he had been sent to St. Louis, 
the center of so much useful writing activity, he had 
long since learned that it was not for Trim to say where 
he could serve the Order best. 

However, he did find the Lakeport social setup as 
discouraging to Catholics as ever it had been. Although 
the proudest boast of the chamber of commerce was the 
city's peculiar blend of "Eastern culture and Midwestern 
vigor,** to Russell it seemed rather to combine the 
snobbery of the one with the crudeness of the other. 

Some metropolitan areas, he knew, were so vast that 
the Catholic and non-Catholic worlds could revolve with- 
out ever colliding. Then, too, in a few cities, like New 

119 



Orleans, Catholics were not only accepted by the aris- 
tocracy but were the aristocracy, as in Latin America 
and most of Continental Europe. In Baltimore, for 
instance, where he had last been stationed, descendants 
of Carrolls and Calverts were no less distinguished than 
Lowells and Cabots in Boston. But this was far from 
typical. In ordinary cities like Lakeport even in sections 
first civilized by French Jesuits or Spanish Franciscans 
Catholics, despite every material success, were in the last 
analysis still regarded by the older families as suspiciously 
as in the most bigoted southern town. Positive expression 
of such prejudice, of course, had gone continually further 
under cover since the violent days of the Know-Nothing 
movement; and yet it was scarcely fifteen years since the 
fiery cross of the Ku Klux Klan had last flared in Lakeport. 

Perhaps this attitude was the only means of restricting 
an upper class that, unlike its European equivalent, was 
without tide and in no position to despise "trade." Un- 
deniably, it was convenient, disposing as it did of at 
least half the German-American population and all the 
Irish, Italians, and Polish at one fell swoop. Such distinc- 
tions were an anachronism anywhere, Russell thought, but 
especially so in America, where the standards were so 
arbitrary that they varied from city to city. 

This particular form of discriminatiop. was all the more 
insidious because, unlike the more active hostility toward 
other minorities, its manifestations were so subtle as to 
be apparent only to those who felt them. To be sure, 
exclusion from a club was by no means as outrageous as 
exclusion from the ballot, and being snubbed was scarcely 
comparable to being lynched, but in their minor way 
these things reflected the same blind intolerance that 

120 



underlay so much of the world's trouble. This was the 
unhealthy soil that produced men like Bert Jordan and, 
more commonly, women like Caroline. 

Social barriers always did strange things both to those 
outside and those within the pale, Russell knew, and 
Caroline's kind was by no means confined to any one 
class or creed. Nor was environment entirely responsible. 
Irma and Loretta shared her background without being 
in the least like her, and Rosemary, exposed even to the 
same social glitter in wartime Washington, had turned 
out just the opposite. Perhaps Bert Jordan's mortal blow 
to her pride was the thing that had hardened Caroline's 
normal social ambition into a driving obsession, as Russell 
had sensed at the time. 

But since their interview in Parlor A he was no longer 
so sure. He even wondered if his view of her had been 
one of those positive, confident judgments of youth which 
time inevitably modifies. Her devotion to Catholic philan- 
thropy had become such a legend in Lakeport, could it 
be that she really had been mellowed by the years? To be 
sure, in some ways she was still the same charming, 
relentless Caroline, given to rationalizing until she doubt- 
less convinced even herself that her motives were of 
the purest. Her bland innocence of any selfish interest in 
the parents' society was characteristic enough. But 
perhaps, after all, she only lacked the Irish ability to 
laugh at her own pretensions, and so took herself too 
seriously. Russell had no wish to misjudge her. 

What inclined him most to this open-mindedness was 
what she had told him about Peter. It was no easy thing 
for any woman to give up a son to the Church, and of 
all mothers in the world he would have expected Caroline 

121 



to be the most clinging and possessive. She would fight 
any possible vocation to the last ditch, he would have said. 
And yet she had come to him and deliberately asked him 
to help Peter follow what was evidently a natural bent 
for the priesthood. That must have taken an amount 
of self-mastery that for Caroline was truly admirable, and, 
knowing this, Russell could easily forgive her double 
purpose in organizing the parents. 

No doubt he could understand her pride because pride 
was his own besetting sin, he told himself - pride in his 
intellectual prowess as a psychologist who used both 
reason and revelation. He liked nothing better than 
refuting the popular notion that the Church closed its 
eyes to the findings of modern science. With proper 
permission, he had even plumbed the depths of Freud, 
Krafft-Ebing and their Viennese school, rejecting their 
mechanistic theories but accepting their objective 
discoveries. 

So eager was he to add to his own empirical knowledge 
of this limitless field and use it to help others that he 
usually went out of his way to invite the intimate confi- 
dence of any boys he thought might have problems 
troubling them. Knowing that a shy counselor only makes 
others shy, he had developed a genial Irish charm that 
quickly won the average boy, but in his desire to help, 
it seldom occurred to him that there were some who 
neither needed nor wanted such help. Accustomed to 
appreciative response, the priest felt distinctly rebuffed 
by such occasional reserve. 

In these rare cases he scarcely knew what to do, and 
usually his friendly interest quickly cooled into complete 
indifference a reaction that often bewildered those who 

122 



simply had nothing to confide. But the Murray twins, 
whether cultivated or cut, remained as pleasantly aloof 
as ever, and this unaccountable aloofness was what hurt 
and puzzled Father Carmody. 

Such was his checkmated feeling even in the noisy 
cafeteria, as he gaily bantered the admiring freshmen 
who crowded around him all the leading freshmen 
except the two whom he wanted most to understand. 
Inhaling the smell of coffee that mingled, not un- 
pleasantly, with the drifting cigarette smoke, he watched 
some sophomores make Joe Militello shout football cheers 
while standing atop the battered piano that was one of 
the undergraduate heirlooms. 

"Well, Joe, youll be all set for the rally tomorrow 
night, won't you?" laughed Russell when the boy, having 
satisfied the sophomores, climbed down and came over 
to him. 

"Oh, you bet, Father! And wait till you see who I*m 
bringing!** 

With a smile of dismissal to the others, Russell took 
Joe's arm and drew him toward the door. 

"Joe," he said as they walked down the corridor, "I 
know you've got your NYA hours for the week in, but 
I wonder if you'd mind doing a little extra work for me 
tomorrow morning? I want to get all those announcements 
for the parents in the mail tomorrow, you know, and I*m 
pretty busy these days with that novena.** 

"Glad to, Father,** smiled Joe happily. 

"1*11 expect you about nine then. You're a good kid, Joe.** 

Pleased by the boy's unquestioning loyalty, Russell gave 
him a pat on the back, and went on upstairs to get the 
lecture notes for his first class. The clever boys could be 

123 



more consciously amusing, he had learned, but, unlike 
Joe's type, they seldom revealed anything more than they 
intended about themselves or anyone else. Joe would 
easily make his life an open book to anyone interested, 
and Russell could only wish there was more in it to 
interest him. But it was always the most carefully 
guarded personalities, the hardest nuts to crack, that 
challenged him. 

He forgot the recalcitrant Murrays, however, as he 
taught the senior class rational psychology and then 
educational psychology to those planning to be teachers. 
But he was reminded again when, leaving the priests 7 
refectory after the midday meal, he encountered the 
scholastic Noonan. 

"Well, I hear you've got Peter Murray teaching one 
of your catechism classes, Father Noonan," he said 
conversationally. Technically, Jesuits not yet ordained 
were still called "Mister," but Russell knew from ex- 
perience how much they liked to be called "Father," once 
they were advanced enough to be sent out teaching. 

"Oh, yes, Father Carmody." The younger man colored 
violently on the rare occasions when he was noticed by 
the poised and popular professor of psychology, whose 
ease with the boys he obviously admired. "Peter seems 
a fine boy very much interested in our work." 

Russell checked an unkind impulse to say 5 "It's nice 
you can get someone interested," and merely observed, 
"I don't suppose you know much about him otherwise, 
do you?" 

"Well, not yet. But he asked me to go to a movie with 
him this evening/* 

"You mean with him and his brother^ of course?" 

124 



"No. I believe he said Paul is going to some affair at 
Lakeport Seminary with a young lady. But if there's any- 
thing you'd like to see Peter about, Father, I'm sure he'd 
be glad to have you come along tonight." 

"No, thanks." Russell quickly hid his unpleasant surprise 
behind his usual jovial manner. "Well, just don't let him 
take you to see Th-e Women! The Legion of Decency has 
condemned it." 

They both laughed, but Russell's feelings were anything 
but gay. More mystified than ever that a shy scholastic 
had succeeded where he had failed, he looked neither left 
nor right as he walked slowly through the first-floor 
corridor, his black cape swirling about him. 

Wrapped in his own thoughts, he scarcely realized that 
he had passed Joe Militello until it would have been 
awkward to go back and speak to him. "Carmody never 
spoils a good exit," he could imagine some of the more 
perceptive undergraduates commenting. Suddenly he was 
laughing at himself, and his momentary pique had 
vanished. Joe would understand, of course, and turn up 
tomorrow morning without fail. 

He himself had been taking the Murrays* attitude far 
too personally, he decided. He should have known better. 
It was simply the complete oneness of the twins that shut 
other people out; even Joe was not as intimate with them 
as might be supposed. Was it good for them to be so 
dependent on each other? he wondered. It certainly 
limited any real friendship with either boy as an individ- 
ual. This aspect of the situation struck him especially 
today, in the light of the lecture he was to give his 
adolescent psychology class on the subject of emotional 
fixations. 

125 



Chapter 6 



"STILL another instance I might mention/' came Father 
Carmody's voice from the lecture platform, "seems to 
combine the elements of some of those we have already 
discussed. While not perhaps an emotional fixation in 
the strict sense, it does have latent possibilities in that 
direction. The case I have in mind is a pair of twin 
brothers of my own acquaintance, about midway through 
the adolescent period. There may be an element of 
narcissism in their attachment, for their resemblance is 
striking, as is usual in identical twins." 

Dutifully, the thought was recorded in the notebooks 
of the extension class a typical assortment of juniors 
and seniors allowed to take it to make up their required 
number of education hours, a few Christian Brothers, and 
a great many school teachers and nuns doing grad- 
uate work. 

The interest with which most of the students hung on 
his every word made Sister M. Marcella Quinn very proud 
of her cousin. Russell had always been her favorite even 
when everyone else had expected more of Larry, and 
she was glad that his subsequent career had proved 
her right 

"Although outwardly they appear perfectly normal," 
he continued, "as I daresay they are in most respects, 
the emotional bond between these brothers is such that 

126 



I fear it may have disastrous effects on their social adjust- 
ment. One, for example, goes out with no girls except 
one who is practically a first cousin possibly from a 
subconscious reluctance to compete with his twin in 
relations to the opposite sex outside the family circle." 

As he paused, gazing out the window until the class 
should catch up, Sister Marcella became aware that an 
undergraduate near her a blue-jowled football player 
named Antonucci was making efforts to attract the 
attention of another across the aisle. Surprised by such 
conduct in an extension class, she cast the offender a 
reproving glance. But he was looking past her, and with 
a shock she realized that his thick lips were forming the 
words "The Murrays!" 

The Murrays, of course. She should have recognized 
the description of Janet. What ever had made Russell 
think of using them as an example? 

'Then again," he went on, "it is said that one of the 
boys feels a vocation for the priesthood, but hesitates to 
follow it because it would mean leaving the other." 

That was news to Sister Marcella, but, of course, 
Russell saw Peter and Paul a great deal more than she 
did. If what he said was true, then perhaps their attach- 
ment was too close. 

"So it is clear," he concluded, "how such a mutually 
exclusive and inclusive relationship may retard their full 
development as individuals." 

Rather strong language, thought the nun, for two such 
wholesome youngsters as the Murrays. She was half in- 
clined to say as much to Russell after class, but then de- 
cided against this. You could not tell these professors 
anything, though at times she felt a distinct urge to remind 

127 



one or two of them that even the pope's infallibility ap- 
plied only to matters of faith and morals. 

Coming out of the room after class, Sister Marcella, 
walking with a teacher she knew, said guardedly, "Well, 
Miss Corrigan, what did you think of today's lecture?" 

"Oh, Sister, isn't Father Carmody the loveliest speaker! 
I wonder if I could get him to address the next meeting 
of the Happy Death Society?' 7 

"I'm sure you could/' said the nun, deciding that the 
name of the Bona Mors Confraternity was better left 
untranslated. Such elderly teachers seemed to follow fads 
in new priests just as they did in new tearooms, she 
reflected, but if an inveterate gossip like May Corrigan 
took no notice of the remarks about the twins, then in all 
probability neither had anyone else. 

Sister Marcella was again reminded of Russell's words 
as she was returning to Mount Carmel on a cross-town 
bus. A block from St. Ignatius she saw Peter Murray get 
on; then a few blocks later, Paul. They were dressed 
identically, of course, even to the freshman equipment, 
but they sat on opposite sides of the bus and took not 
the slightest notice of each other. Had they quarreled? 
She wondered only for a moment. 

When she saw the puzzled looks of the other passengers, 
as if they could not believe their eyes, she realized that 
this was one of the little jokes the twins liked to play on 
strangers. Smiling, she explained the situation to her 
companion nun. Peter and Paul were perfectly ordinary, 
healthy boys just the kind she liked to see go out with 
Mount girls. The type Mother Celestine, in assemblies 
before social events, primly described as "fine young 
Catholic gentlemen." Fiddlesticks for Russell, thought 

128 



Sister Marcella, with his emotional fixations and social 
maladjustments! 

All Mount Carmel was so busy preparing for this 
evening, the first monthly parents' night of the year, 
that the nun had no time to ponder on the Murrays or 
anyone else until she was seated at the desk of the room 
where daily she taught Latin. She brought with her to- 
day's issue of the Mount Carmel Echo, the student news- 
paper, so as to be well informed on the current extracur- 
ricular activities of her pupils before their parents arrived. 
The mothers, especially those whose offspring did not 
shine academically, always expected the sisters to know 
all the other accomplishments of Joanne or Mary Lou 
"and not just because she's my own daughter, Sister." 
Among Sister Marcella's five large classes, this was no 
easy task. 

Most of the news items were not particularly inter- 
esting to older eyes, but she did take time to read all 
of the alumnae column, for it was at her suggestion that 
the nun in charge of the paper had dubiously entrusted 
this department to Rita Militello. In another year, Rita 
would be forever beyond the influence of the Mount, 
Sister Marcella realized, and she felt that the school 
should make one last effort to turn her into something 
more like a lady. She hoped that the frequent contact 
with a variety of older women outside her normal sphere, 
most of them comfortably established either in marriage 
or careers, might inspire Rita with ideas of behavior she 
would obviously never learn at home. 

Mrs. Militello was undoubtedly a devoted mother, and 
a pious one, who raised all her children ardent Catholics; 
but what could she know of the social standards of her 

129 



daughter's contemporaries? It was inevitable, then, that 
Rita should follow the patterns she most admired on 
the screen, in cheap fiction or in neighborhood girl friends 
who had quit school for work. Most Italian girls at the 
Mount were accepted without question by those of Irish 
or German descent, but Rita belonged to an ill-adjusted 
minority, who, sensing the lack in their background, 
remained perpetually on the defensive. It was this in- 
security that was reflected in her constant, nervous anima- 
tion, her gales of raucous giggles, her ceaseless stream 
of chatter, and all the other overdone mannerisms that 
made her as conspicuous to her classmates as to her 
teachers. 

For three years the Mount had been fighting a losing 
battle against the outside factors and yet Rita was not 
entirely hopeless, Sister Marcella felt sure. If only she 
could learn to tone down and relax and think before she 
talked, she might be quite a different girl. At any rate, 
the alumnae assignment could do her no harm; the only 
danger was that Rita might make a stronger impression 
on die subjects of her interviews than they did on her. 
The current article, though evidently somewhat edited 
by the moderator, still oozed a cloying saccharinity 
reminiscent of a movie magazine, except that in Rita's 
case such naivete was only too sincere. Reading between 
the lines, Sister Marcella could easily picture what must 
actually have taken place: 

The name of Mrs. R. Emmett Murray is come across 
in regard to so many different things, that it did not seem 
possible to us that one woman could be able to do so 
much. We decided to find out how this could be. Well, 
we found out in a most gracious interview, but, of course, 

ISO 



we could not take up too much of Mrs. Murray's valuable 
time. 

"I am flattered," she laughed merrily, sitting in the 
midst of her luxuriant living room at 324 Crescent Park- 
way, "that the Mount Carmel Echo should consider me 
an alumna outstanding in Catholic Action, Yes, I have 
held the chairmanship of the Women's Division of Cath- 
olic Charities for some years now, but I feel it's no 
more than my duty.'* 

To the question as to how she became so interested 
in social work, Mrs. Murray responded as follows: "It's 
a long story. Since high school days at the dear old 
Mount, I have always done some such work. The 
Guild there, I'm sure, is still carrying on nobly. 
When I belonged, many times I used to come home 
crying at the sad things I saw. I remember one such 
time when my uncle, now Vicar-General of the diocese, 
then plain Msgr. Straubmeyer, was visiting us. 'Stop 
crying and do something/ he told me. I never forgot 
that Now I stop crying and try to do something." 

Mrs. Murray laughs so easy now, the tears must all 
have been turned to doing something, like her famous 
uncle the Msgr. said, and as a reward laughter must 
have taken the place of the tears. Just then noticing the 
picture of her handsome twin sons on the piano, we 
asked her to tell us about them. 

TPeter and Paul are freshmen at St. Ignatius College 

is year ? ~ she told us, "and right now very much inter- 
ested in the football season there. I have become quite 
a sport fan myself. With two boys, you know, one learns 
to cheer for the home team with the best of them." 

Next we questioned: "With two such sons, did you 
never get interested in any of the dubs having to do 
with their schools?" 

While looking guilty, Mrs. Murray admitted that she 
had for eight years been president of the St. Charles' 
Borromeo Mothers* Club, "which has since broken up, 
and for the next four years president of the St. Ignatius 
High School Mothers. At present, at the request of 
Father O'Shea, head of St. Ignatius College, she is organ- 
izing such an organization there. Lake she says, there 

131 



is so much such clubs can do for youth, especially from 
a cultural and social standpoint. 

We next learned that as head of the Newman Guild 
of the St. Vincent de Paul Hospital of the Sisters of 
Charity, Mrs. Murray spends one whole morning a month 
brightening the lives of the patients there. By now we 
were beginning to feel a little mixed up, even though 
Mrs. Murray is a big, healthy woman. She was gowned 
in a blue wool dress, matching her large blue eyes and 
looking very artistic, 

"Where do you get the time to do so much?" we 
asked then. 

"Maybe I cannot say no." Mrs, Murray seemed to 
think a moment and then went on: "I guess I just love 
to keep busy, now that my boys are raised. Everything 
can always be fit in, with proper planning." 

Talking of her work at the hospital led Mrs. Murray 
to speak of her husband. He is Health Commissioner 
Murray, who used to be at the head of the hospital staff 
and now he is running on the Democrat ticket for mayor. 
But Mrs. Murray admits she knows little of politics. 

"It goes without saying," she added, "that even though 
Judge Fenton is a very fine old man, all of us Mount 
girls would rather see another Catholic mayor of 
Lakeport." 

Mrs. Murray has lived in Lakeport all her life, except 
for her four years at Trinity College, Washington, D. C. 
"I have been so happy here," she says, "so much wonder- 
ful work, so many fine friends especially those I made 
while at the Mount. Yes, Lakeport has been very good 
to me." 

We then left, knowing Mrs. Murray's modesty had 
kept her from telling half the story. There was the 
Bishop's Committee for Catholic Home Life, the 
Diocesan Speakers' Bureau, the National Conference 
of Catholic Charities, the Catholic Daughters, the 
St. Charles Rosary and Altar Society. And then 
there are school groups such as the I.F.C.A., the 
Trinity Alumnae, and, of course, our own Mount 
Cannel Alumnae Association. Mrs. Murray helj 
found many of these and she either holds office or 

132 



in all of them. But for this information we had to go 
to Mrs. Frank X. Straubmeyer, Mrs. Murray's sister-in- 
law, who on her land suggestion we interviewed soon 
afterward for our next column. 

We told ourself, yes, indeed, the little girl who cried 
and was told to "stop crying and do something" certainly 
did something. Many years away now was the Mount 
Carmel Guild of high school days. Today we see the 
National Conference, the Catholic Charities, and every- 
thing else 1 ! ! It really can be done. We didn't believe 
it could, but we do now. 

Caroline had certainly dragged in every one in the 
family, Sister Marcella noted without surprise every 
one except her parents. Only a week ago Saturday, while 
downtown with one of the kitchen nuns, she had met 
old Mrs. Straubmeyer in the Seneca Market, happily 
shopping for a family feast on the next day. But from 
the wistfully pressed invitation for a call the very next 
time Sister Marcella had visiting permission, the nun 
could imagine the empty intervals between the chil- 
dren^ visits. 

So, knowing Caroline as she did, she found the heavily 
applied charm of the interview rather dismaying as well 
as amusing. What if all her zeal for Catholic Action were 
no more sincere than this? The sheer halo of such super- 
Catholicism was enough to dazzle far shrewder eyes than 
Rita Militello's. Of course, Sister Marcella was no longer 
in a position to judge fairly, but at times she could not 
but wonder whether the devouring social ambition their 
college years Bad awakened in Caroline, however worthily 
sublimated on the surface, had ever really been outgrown. 
She kept such speculations to herself, of course, and they 
apparently never occurred to anyone else doubtless 
because, as far as she knew, no one else had ever guessed 

m 



or even suspected what the loss of Bert Jordan had meant 
to Caroline. 

Among the first parents to arrive this evening was Mrs. 
Militello, dressed with all her usual misguided care, even 
the nun could not fail to notice. When they had discussed 
Rita's fair progress in Latin IV, Sister Marcella felt that 
some compliment to her journalism was in order. 

"My, that's quite an article Rita has in the Echo this 
week," she said, trying not to let politeness lead her 
too far from truth. 

"Oh, you like it, Sister?" beamed Mrs. Militello. "Yes, 
my Rita is a great one for the writing." 

"Mrs. Murray must be very pleased by such a tribute." 

"Ah, she's such a fine lady! My Rita says she wants 
to be just like her when she grows up." 

"Isn't that nice!" Such a future for Rita seemed hardly 
probable to the nun and just as well. From what she 
gathered, Patricia Hartman was more likely to be the 
Caroline of tomorrow. "Do you know Mrs. Murray well?" 

"Not real well. But my Joe goes to school with her 
boys, so down at the high school I knew her, and pretty 
soon at the college, too, from the parents' club." 

"The twins are such nice boys, aren't they?" 

"Oh, yes! My Joe likes them fine. And I like for him 
to go with them, too." 

"You're perfectly right. There aren't two finer boys in 
Lakeport" Reminded of what she had heard in the 
extension class, Sister Marcella felt the need to praise 
the twins even more strongly than usual. "I suppose some 
af the upperclassmen at the college are bound to resent 
all the attention they've been getting lately, but that's 
mi their fault" 

134 



She dropped the subject as she saw Irma in the 
doorway. 

"Hello, Mrs. Militello. How are you, Sister?" Irma came 
over toward the desk. "Well, I guess I'm early, after all." 

"As if you were ever late for anything, Irma," said the 
nun, smiling. 

"Well, last night I started that novena down at St. 
Ignatius Church, in honor of the Queen of the Most Holy 
Rosary, you know. Of course, they have services every 
couple of hours all day, but I wanted to make the 
evening one." 

"That's the one Father Carmody gives?" said Mrs. 
Militello. "My Rita started that, too, mostly to hear how 
he talks. Since iny Joe started to college, we hear nothing 
but Father Carmody this and Father Carmody that. 
I only wish I had time to hear him myself, but " 

"You owe yourself a little time off now and then/* 
Irrna urged. "And it just so happens I need a fourth 
to fill a table at the Catholic Daughters* card party to- 
morrow for the scholarship fund at Stella Marls, you 
know. If you don't mind being asked on the last minute 
like this, why don't you come?" 

"Oh, there's so much to do at home," Mrs. Militello 
protested. 

"You can do some in the morning. And Rita won't 
have school. Let her get dinner." 

"On Saturday afternoon she helps out in the beauty 
shop in Henderson's store. My husband's niece is head 
operator there. So I don't think " 

"Oh, come on now!" Irma persisted, laughingly. "You 
can't turn down a good cause like this. Why, Rita might 
win the scholarship next year!" 

135 



"Well, I haven't played the contract bridge since I 
stopped belonging to the High School Mothers. At our 
parish parties, it is always pedro." Mrs. Militello was 
evidently weakening. 

"Oh, none of us are experts! There's a fashion show 
included, too, with the Stella Maris girls modeling. And 
all for a dollar!" 

"Well, then, for you, Mrs. Straubmeyer. Ill fix it some 
way at home." 

"That's the spirit! I know youTl enjoy yourself. You do 
know Mrs. Murray and Mrs. Hartman, don't you?" 

"Mrs. Murray, yes. Mrs. Hartman I have met only 
a few times when I had to go places with my husband." 

"Oh, you'll like her, I'm sure!" 

Irma was probably quite right, thought Sister Marcella. 
In fact, if she knew her old classmates, Mrs. Militello 
would feel far more at ease talking to Loretta for the 
first time than she ever would with Caroline. 



106 



Chapter 7 



AFTER getting her husband off to the city hall, Mrs. 
Militello, instead of going back to sleep a few hours as 
usual on Saturday mornings, stayed up to get Joe's 
breakfast, despite his protests. She was glad of the rare 
chance to visit -with her eldest son undisturbed by the 
other children. 

"Gee, I hope Father Carmody isn't mad at me for 
anything," Joe said, between mouthfuls of cereal. 

"Mad at you, Joe? When you give him the only morning 
you got to yourself? You never worked so hard in the 
summer even!" 

"Yes, not everyone would do all I do for him," Joe 
admitted ruefully. "Ill bet the Murrays wouldn't, even 
after he picked them for his altar boys in the retreat." 

"Those Murrays, Joe." Mrs. Militello was reminded of 
Sister Marcella's remarks. "Everyone still likes them 
at school?" 

"Oh, sure, they're good kids." 

"Who're good kids?" Rita yawned and slumped into 
her place at the table, her frizzy black hair uncombed. 

"You better hurry up or you won't make the eight 
o'clock Mass," Mrs. Militello warned; she had hoped 
Rita would go to church before breakfast, for daily 
attendance at Mass was part of the novena. 

"Oh, 111 get there before it's over!" Rita swallowed 

157 



some oatmeal. "Who're them good kids you were talkin 
about?" 

"No one you'd know," said Joe, just as his mother 
answered, "The Murray twins." 

"Oh, them!" Rita put on her expression of intense 
boredom. 

"Sour grapes, if you ask me," grinned Joe. 

"Who's askin' ya?" Rita made a face. "Believe me, I'll 
take Nick Antonucci any day!" 

"If you can get him!" Joe laughed. 

"Oh, yeah? A lot you know! He walked me home from 
our Children of Mary dance last night. And he asked 
me to go out with him after the football rally tonight!" 
Rita announced triumphantly. Then she softened her tone. 
"Oh, say, Joe, Nick's got to ride with the team in the 
parade, so how's about me gettin* a ride with you and 
Pat Hartman?" 

"Well, gee, I don't know." Joe looked reluctant. "After 
all, if we're going to use Pat's car, I wouldn't " 

"If that Pat's such a nice girl, she won't mind giving 
your own sister a ride," said Mrs. Militello decisively. 

"Oh, all right, then," muttered Joe. "But if Rita's making 
that novena, I think she ought to go there and then take 
a streetcar out to the college afterwards." 

"Aw, go on, I can skip it one night, can't I?" Rita took 
a gulp of coffee. "But anyways, I was going to tell you. 
Did Nick ever give me the lowdown on them sweet 
Murray boys!" 

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Militello turned from 
the stove. 

"You'd never guess in a million years!" Rita let her 
words sink in as she drank some more coffee. 

138 



are you talking about?** Joe demanded. 

"You mean you haven't heard?" Rita snickered. "Gee, 
Nick says everyone at St. Ignatius knows." 

"Knows what?" Joe frowned impatiently. 

"Well " Rita's eyes were popping 'last night I just 
happened to say how good-looking the Murrays are. 
Then Nick says, 'Oh, them two birds!' He says they're 
practically goin' steady with each other. It looks awful 
funny, he says. Even some priest at St. Ignatius says so." 

"My God, what things you lads talk about!" Mrs. Mili- 
tello shook her head at her daughter's confused nonsense. 
"But don't you go saying anything that ain't nice about 
the Murrays, Rita." 

Joe smiled. "That's Nick Antonucci for you. But where 
did he ever get that crazy idea? Peter and Paul have 
always gone together. Why wouldn't they? I think 111 
ask Father Carmody about that this morning." 

"Yes, Joe, you see what he says," Mrs. Militello dis- 
missed the whole vague idea. She was far more concerned 
with her plans for the afternoon. "Say, Rita, are you 
gonna call Josephine like I said and tell her you can't 
work this after?** 

"Can't I just get off early?" Rita asked. *1 hate to miss 
a week there. Gee, the things them ritzy-looking women 
talk about while I do their nails!" 

"Well, then, ask to get off at four, so you can have 
supper started before I get home." 

In Mrs. Militello's youth, nice Italian girls had been 
kept strictly at home and educated only in the house- 
hold arts until it was time to marry the man of their 
father's choice. Thus, despite her husband's position, the 
social world beyond her own family and parish was to 

139 



her still so strange and difficult glimpsed only through 
the parents' organizations which she felt it her duty to 
join that this afternoon would be in the nature of a 
venture into the unknown; one, indeed, she would never 
have undertaken but for her desire to accommodate Mrs. 
Straubmeyer, who had always been so nice to her, 

The rows of card tables in the ballroom of Hotel 
Lakeport were just beginning to fill when she entered, 
for she had taken literally the hour designated on the 
ticket. But even by the time Irma and Loretta arrived, 
Caroline had not yet put in her appearance. 

*Tm so glad to see you again, Mrs. Militello," said 
Loretta cordially. "J oe is such a grand boy. I understand 
he and my Pat are taking in the St. Ignatius football 
rally tonight." 

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Hartman." Mrs. Militello smiled, relieved 
now of all her fears concerning the mayor's wife. "He 
always tells me what a fine girl Patricia is." 

As they waited and waited, Mrs. Militello grew rather 
worried about the elegant Mrs. Murray; and Irma was 
frankly impatient, though Loretta's good humor was 
unimpaired. Then, some twenty minutes after most of 
the tables had started playing, Mrs, R. Emmett Murray 
made her entrance. One of her most dazzling smiles lit 
her firm, decisive features as, with many a gracious nod 
to left and right, she made her way toward her table, 
trailing a faint aura of 'Wood Violet" scent, and looking 
as svelte and regal as only she could. Glittering 
pince-nez, turquoise earrings, and a large white corsage 
of baby chrysanthemums, all high-lighted her usual 
study in blue. Her one regret was that she had 
not stood by her preference for large hats, when she 

140 



saw that everyone else also seemed to be wearing those 
small, off-the-faee velvet turbans that were so popular 
this fall, bunched high in front like a southern mammy's. 
Every one, that is, except Mrs. Militeilo. She might at 
least get some new cherries for that millinery horror, 
thought Caroline. 

Only the necessity of being seen by her public had 
lured Caroline into an afternoon of bridge. These large 
Saturday affairs always drew the rank and file of Cath- 
olic society the office workers, teachers, and others 
eager for a glimpse of those one step above them 
wives like Inna, of businessmen, or, like Loretta, of 
politicians, or, like Caroline herself, of professional men; 
these were the only women with leisure enough to spend 
all week in such pursuits. Yes, the whole thing at best 
would have been tiresome enough, thought Caroline, but 
then, when the fourth at the table could not come, to 
have Irma ask Mrs. Militellol What ever possessed Irma 
to do such things? 

Despite her lack of interest in cards, Caroline took care 
to play unusually well today, except every third hand, 
when the pivot system made Mrs. Militello her partner. 
It irked her to see the wife of the mayor, even of the 
retiring mayor, treating a woman of the Militello sort 
just like an equal. After all, she was not the type of 
wife who could be politically influential. In Loretta's 
place, never would Caroline be guilty of such poor taste. 

"My, such pretty cards!" Mrs. Militello admired the 
cellophaned double deck which was the prize for the 
table. "If Fm lucky today, maybe I win them!" 

"I hope you do," laughed Loretta. "I've won enough 
of them in my time to open a gambling joint." 

142 



When, in an intermission midway through the after- 
noon, the fashion show came on, Pat Hartman, of course, 
was among the Stella Maris freshmen modeling the new 
fall styles those for street wear shorter than any since 
the Twenties, as Irma observed. When Pat was called 
over by Loretta to meet Mrs. Militello, her air of distant 
politeness toward the mother of her current boy friend 
struck just the right note, in Caroline's opinion. It was 
never necessary to be rude to put people in their place. 

Since there was no set time for the playing to end, 
Caroline waited for a moment when her score was well 
ahead to suggest that they stop. Satisfied that she had 
won, when Inna totaled the scores, Caroline felt that she 
could afford to be generous. 

"I'm sure you must have more use for these than 
I have, Mrs. Militello," she said, handing the prize cards 
to the woman. 

"Oh, thank you/' smiled Mrs. Militello. "You sure you 
don't want them?" 

"Quite," said Caroline modestly. "I'm afraid I don't 
have as much time to play cards as most people." 

"I think I might as well stay downtown for dinner," 
Irma announced, when the four women had passed into 
the thronged lobby. "Then I can go right over to the 
novena at St. Ignatius. Anyone want to join me?" 

"Oh, is that the service Russell Carmody gives?" asked 
Loretta. "He was down at WLKP the other night, arrang- 
ing to have it broadcast, when George was speaking on 
that forum about the arms embargo. Before I knew it 
he talked George into putting in an appearance at the 
St. Ignatius rally tonight even though we already had 
the evening planned!" 

142 



"Why don't you stay out to dinner with me, Mrs, 
Militello?" Irma suggested. 

Caroline, who had just decided on that course herself, 
stepped on Irma's foot, as she said with a smile as sweet 
and cold and firm as a frozen dessert, "Now, Irma, I think 
we've kept Mrs, Militello away from that wonderful 
family of hers long enough. It's eleven children vou have, 
isn't it, Mrs. Militello?" 

"Seven,'' said the woman, coloring at the tone, her 
happy smile of a moment before now strained, 

"Oh, yes, of course! How do you ever keep them all 
straight?" purred Caroline, without waiting for an 
answer. "Then you're not coming with us, Loretta?" 

"Not tonight. George and I have to be at the Chamber 
of Commerce banquet at eight-thirty." 

George might better spend the evening with Bob and 
Frank, attending a Democratic rally on the east side, 
Caroline thought. 

"I didn't know you intended to stay down, Carrie," 
said Irma later, as they came out of the hotel into the 
early autumn twilight. At street corners stony-faced 
Indian women sat selling bittersweet always a sign of 
fall in Lakeport. 

"I just thought I might as well start that novena " 
Caroline explained, "as long as this is only the third 
night of it." 

Not only was she curious about Russell's reputed 
preaching powers, but he also had a feeling that the op- 
portunity for making the novena should not be neglected. 
Now that she had done every practical thing possible 
for Bob's campaign, her restless urge for accomplishment 
was overflowing into spiritual channels. 

143 



"Where shall we eat, Leonardo's?" said Inna. "I love 
the atmosphere there," 

"Heavens, no! I've had enough of sunny Italy for 
one day!" 

The long front windows of the Regency Room, on the 
second floor of one of Lakeport's most popular restaurants, 
overlooked Main Street, but the plate glass made rush 
hour traffic and newsboys' war cries relatively inaudible, 
so that the panorama seemed as remote as a silent film. 
Recorded music, soft, unseen, blended into the buzz 
of conversation. 

"Oh, South of the Border' 9 Inna exclaimed, identifying 
the song, "Janet Sa 7 s that's the first piece that's ever had 
the girl joining the convent. You know, In a veil of white, 
by candlelight, she knelt to pray/ " 

"Janet has never thought of joining the convent her- 
self, has she?'* asked Caroline, on an off-chance, carefully 
squeezing a sliver of lemon over her shrimp cocktail. 

"Oh, no!" laughed Inna. "She's having too much fun 
out in the world." 

Caroline did not doubt that. To her annoyance, Peter 
had already asked Janet to next Friday's college dance. 
Evidently Russell, to borrow one of the boys' expressions, 
had not got to first base with Peter. In fact, Paul seemed 
much more impressed by the magnetic personality of 
the priest. 

*Tm glad she does get around/' Irma went on. "I 
wouldn't want her to be like poor Rita Militello. Janet 
says Rita's not a bad kid, but she's so anxious to make 
a hit with everyone at once, she just queers things for 
herself. I don't think she even likes Janet any too well 
for being more popular.* 

144 



"What can you expect, with such a mother? I could 
see how gauche she was that day she interviewed me," 
Caroline commented. "By the way, I got a copy in the 
mail this morning, and except for her English, it's really 
not too bad." 

"I know, I saw Janet's copy yesterday. One of us will 
have to bring it over tomorrow for Mama and Papa 
Straubmeyer to see." 

Caroline was not pleased by the reminder that the bi- 
weekly dinner with her parents had again rolled around. 

"Peter and Paul said something about bringing Janet 
and Mimi over there after the football game tomorrow, 
but I told them they'd have more fun eating at some 
nice restaurant/* 

"Oh, why, Carrie? Your mother'd love fussing for them." 

"That's not the point, Irma. You know Papa tod his 
Victorian prejudices about girls smoking and such things. 
What would Mimi think of him?" 

"What would he think of Mimi?" laughed Irma. "But, 
at that, he'd probably like to have them, anyway. When 
you and Bob couldn't come during the summer, some- 
times he'd get so grumpy he wouldn't" even want to 
bother keeping the Polish people in the neighborhood 
lined up for Bob. He said if they judged by appearances, 
they wouldn't even believe you were his daughter." 

"Oh, Papa's so touchy!" Caroline's voice almost trailed 
off as she caught sight of two late diners, just about to 
follow the hostess toward a table beyond hers. Yes, the 
first was Miriam Keith Jordan dressed, Caroline noted, 
in something simple and black, becoming rather than 
fashionable, but casually trailing silver foxes. The other 
woman, she saw after a moment, was Mrs. Averill Phelps, 

145 



though her freshly waved hair was now several shades 
darker than it had been last summer. 

Prepared for at least a brief chat, Caroline, though she 
suddenly felt a little overdressed, tinned on her warmest 
smile as Miriam approached only to be passed with the 
most casual of nods and a "Good evening" that was civil 
but nothing more. 

"Well, can you beat that!*' said Irma, who had seen 
the w T hole thing. "Passing you right by, when her own 
daughter goes with Paul! When you think how glad 
Loretta was to see Mrs. Militello today " 

The thought that she herself might appear to Miriam 
as Mrs. Militello did to her was too much for Caroline. 

"Well, this is an awkward place to stop and talk/' she 
said at once. "After all, the fact remains Paul is still going 
with Mimi, He's taking her to the dance, in fact; she took 
him to the one that Lakeport Seminary had last night, 
you know." 

"I'll bet that wasn't her mother's fault/' said Irma, and 
Caroline knew she was right. 

Things would be different in another month, she 
promised herself. Tuesday, November seventh yes, just 
a month from today would turn the tables. She knew 
that there was little doubt of Bob's success against Judge 
Porter Hale Fenton, the elderly jurist whom the Republi- 
cans (also burdened with too many German-named 
leaders) had nominated chiefly because both his father 
and his grandfather had been mayors of Lakeport in 
their day. Their day, though, was gone for good, thought 

Caroline with satisfaction. 

% 

Miriam's deliberate snub snapped the last of Caroline's 
resolve to win over her and her friends by sheer gracious- 

146 



ness after the election. Let them win her over now! 
Though it seemed hardly probable that the royal couple 
of England would pass through Lakeport again in the 
next four years, there would be plenty of other British 
and French celebrities arriving to talk up their side of 
the war, if the last one was any criterion. Then wouldn't 
those fine Anglican matrons come running to the mayor's 
wife to get the inside track! Not until they had thor- 
oughly made up for every slight she had ever suffered 
would Caroline accept them now, determined to improve 
on Loretta in this respect, as in so many others. 

She tore into her steak as if she were biting off the 
heads of Lakeport's elite. That Charlotte Phelps, nee 
Winthrop, for instance! Winthrop, indeed! Her grand- 
father had been no less German than Caroline's, but after 
making his fortune selling defective rifles to the Union 
Army, Jacob Weintraub had changed his name just as 
easily as he changed his Lutheran church for St. Giles* 
Episcopal cathedral, attended on occasion by all of 
Lakeport's first families. That was the trouble, thought 
Caroline. Catholics had to be taken just as they were 
or not at all. And in Lakeport, the choice was "not at all." 

"Yes, 111 certainly start that novena tonight," she said 
aloud, overcoming even her distaste for the church's 
location, adjacent to St. Ignatius High School, and thus 
hard by the Seneca Market, of vulgar memory. Emerging 
from the restaurant to find the curbs crowded and traffic 
rerouted from Main Street, Caroline remembered that it 
was about time for the St. Ignatius pre-rally parade to 
the college to begin. 

"Oh, Td love to see it," said Irma, in her school- 
girlish way. 



"It forms over at the high school, anyway/* said Caro- 
line; so, crossing Main, they walked a block beyond, to 
the parallel street on which the Jesuit property adjoined 
one side of the market. It was as much this convenience 
of the church to downtown as the excellence and variety 
of its preachers that made all its services so popular even 
now, after most of the original German parishioners had 
been driven north by the advance of business. 

At the moment the street was much noisier than Main, 
with the regular Saturday night market crowd swelled 
by those arriving for the Novena and others engaged in 
lining up floats and cars for the parade. Trucks sponsored 
by the various school organizations, decked in green and 
white bunting, proclaimed in a dozen ways the approach- 
ing extinction of the Annunciation Lions by the St. Igna- 
tius Eagles. Seniors ran back and forth shouting directions 
above the tumult of horns and band music. 

It was not until order began to emerge from the chaos 
and the cars started to follow the floats that Caroline 
caught sight of the Murray automobile, festooned with 
crepe paper in the school colors. On one of the trucks 
a brief-skirted majorette, twirling her baton, led the East 
Lakeport Drum Corps in a favorite St. Ignatius football 
song, and all along the line lusty voices took up the 
derisive chorus: 

HI send my boy to Annuncia-tion, 

Where they'll teach him all they can, 
I'll send my boy to Annuncia-tion, 

And he'll come back a man! 
Til send my boy to Annuncia-tion, 

Where they'll educate him well, 
I'll send my boy to Annuncia-tion, 

Yes, I will, Zu^Z-likeheU! 

148 



Even Mimi was valiantly trying to follow the words, 
Caroline noticed, as the Murray car passed. Still singing, 
Paul gave an extra blast of the horn, and Mimi waved 
a gay greeting to the women. Janet, with Peter in the 
back seat, playfully tossed them a roll of green serpentine. 

Caroline smiled back, carried away by the festive 
atmosphere. How right she had been to send her boys 
to St. Ignatius, whose functions were followed with 
interest by all middle-class Lakeport, instead of to some 
out-of-town college whence their activities could be re- 
ported only indirectly. Just last night Paul's picture had 
been in the papers again for winning that play-writing 
contest. 

Her pleasure faded a little as she recognized Pat Hart- 
man's sleek convertible, with Joe Militello looking as if 
he ought to be wearing a chauffeur's uniform to drive it. 
Worse still, Rita was with them, sitting on the side 
nearest the curb, shrieking the words of the song. Caroline 
involuntarily shrank back in distaste as Rita stopped 
singing long enough to screech, "Hi-ya, Mrs. Murray!" 

Caroline saw Pat wince and try to look as if Rita were 
some total stranger picked up along the way. At times 
Pat was so like her Uncle Bert far more so than Mimi, 
thought Caroline. You could never tell whom children 
would take after. There was Mimi Jordan, despite her 
Keith blood, almost as easygoing in her way as her 
unrecognized aunt, Loretta, while Loretta's own Pat was 
the one to resemble Bert. Indeed, Caroline reflected, had 
the two girls been switched in their cradles, Pat would 
certainly have made a more suitable, if less agreeable, 
daughter for Miriam. 



149 



Chapter 8 

WHEN the parade disbanded after the long ride north 
on Main Street to the college grounds, there was the 
usual snake dance on the football field, about a towering 
bonfire topped by an effigy of the Annunciation Lion. 
The flames leaping far up into the night sky gave the 
scene a livid unreality, as hundreds of laughing boys and 
girls trooped around the blaze, chanting the annually 
revived words, to the tune of "John Brown's Body": 

Old Annunciation is a Lion in its grave . . . 
Wliile Saint Ig's goes marching on! 
Give a cheer for Saint Igna-tius . . . 
As the Eagles march right on! 

It was fun at first, but Pat Hartman was glad when 
the fire began to die down and the crowd surged into 
the gymnasium, which was gaily decked with St. Ignatius 
pennants and emblems of every kind. She was glad, too, 
that Rita had gone off on a mad round of greeting 
acquaintances with her familiar "So hello!" and "Hi-ya, 
toots!" Rita was not the type who was asked out often, 
Pat gathered, but when she was, she wanted everyone 
to know she was there. 

When all the seats were filled, the school band struck 
up the Alma Mater, and the audience stood up. The few 
boys who wore hats removed them, as the priests did 
their birettas. Hardly anyone knew the words of the verse, 

ISO 



but even the girls and the people from the neighborhood 
who turned out on such occasions joined in the familiar 
chorus: 

Then gather round and swell the sound, 

Our hearts with ardor light, 

Unfurl our banners bright, 

The royal green and white! 

With ringing cheer for Alma dear, 

Our loyalty renew. 

Saint Igna-tius, to you 

Our hearts will be true! 

On the stage that had only yesterday served as an altar, 
a prominent senior was now introducing President O'Shea. 
When he had said his few amiable words about to- 
morrow's game, a cheer leader came on, energetically 
leading the roar of: 

Goodness! Gracious! Saint Ignatius! 
Be-e-e-e-e-e-e-eat AnnunciATION! 

The dean of the college spoke next, but Pat hardly 
listened, knowing that they would all say much the same 
thing. With a tiny, long-quilled hat on the back of her 
page-boy bob, Pat, in her plaid jacket, tweed skirt, and 
saddle shoes, looked as pert and gay as a college girl 
could, but even as she made bright conversation with 
Joe, her eyes were scanning the crowd to locate the 
Murrays. It pained her more than anyone knew to see 
Paul with Mimi, yet some impulse left her unsatisfied 
until she had found them. 

Of course, Joe was a good lad and cute enough in his 
Latin way, but Paul! The glimpse of his profile, a little 
more perfect even than Peter's, caused Pat an almost 

151 



physical pang. For this, she had given up her plans to 
go to college out of town! Last spring, the prospect of 
a freshman year at Stella Maris, with Paul at St. Ignatius, 
had seemed ideal; when she found out otherwise, it was 
too late to register anywhere else. How could you know 
a fellow was a selfish heel and still feel this way? she 
wondered hopelessly. 

Monsignor Straubmeyer, as one of the oldest living 
alumni, was talking now, in his benevolent way, of the 
traditional rivalry between St. Ignatius and Annunciation, 
but Pat's feeling for the college was hardly strong enough 
to give interest to what she already knew. 

What has Mimi got that I haven't got? she asked 
herself. That dumb Mimi! She was as helpless as a 
kitten with its eyes not yet open. Last year Paul had 
been glad enough to go to all the senior affairs at the Sem. 
This year, though, he would move in a circle where "the 
Sem" meant Lakeport Sem, where St. Charles' parish 
mattered no more than St. Henry's, and Stella Maris was 
just another denominational college. 

That was what made the difference, she realized bitterly. 
Mimi, her own first cousin, her inferior in brains and per- 
sonality, lived in an entirely different world. Even if her 
Uncle Bert was never mentioned in the family, he had 
known what he was doing when he married a Keith. 

Pat recognized Father Cannody when he slipped in 
at a side entrance close to the stage, for he had given 
the retreat at Stella Maris this year one not easily for- 
gotten. All agreed that they had never had such a "sim- 
ply smooth" retreat master. 

The senior acting as master of ceremonies was soon 
drowned out by cheers and calls for Father Carmody, as 

152 



the irresponsible freshmen saw their favorite priest. 
Laughing, he walked up to the stage. 

"I don't know what I'm doing here," he said, smiling 
with engaging candor. "When I went to college here, I 
couldn't even make the scrub team. Even now I can 
barely tell a forward pass from a lateral! All I know is 
that our team can't lose tomorrow if it has half as much 
school spirit as our class of '43!" 

His lightness of touch made the previous speakers seem 
a dreary lot indeed. Renewed cheers broke out. 

"But you don't want to listen to me/ 7 

He ignored the clamorous protest of his audience. 

"So as a special surprise for you, in a very few minutes 
vouTl meet one of our most famous and successful alumni. 
Ah, here he comes now 7 !" He held up his hands in imita- 
tion of a cheer leader. "Let's give a cheer, boys, for Mayor 
George Hartman, St. Ignatius class of 1915!" 

Properly distinguished in his evening clothes, the 
mayor walked down the aisle amid enthusiastic applause. 
In a few more months, thought Pat sadly, there would 
be no more of that; her father would be just another 
lawyer again. Her mother actually seemed glad of the 
fact, but Pat had thoroughly enjoyed the official prestige. 
Movies about heiresses who ran away incognito to find 
someone who loved them for themselves alone always 
made her laugh at the wrong moments. Not that she 
lacked confidence in her personal charm; but other 
advantages like living in St. Charles' parish, attending 
the Sem, and being the mayor's daughter were certainly 
all to the good in the young Catholic social whirl. 

Yet what had it all really brought her? With none of 
those attractions, Janet Straubmeyer had kept the boy 

153 



she wanted. Pat had some things in common with both 
her cousins, she realized, and still she was not as happy 
as either. Torn between two opposite sets of values, she 
could neither be a carefree Catholic schoolgirl like Janet 
nor a genuine society bud like Mimi. 

Perhaps if she had not been the mayor's daughter, 
though, Paul might never have taken up with her at all. 
Soon, their positions would probably be reversed, and 
as the mayor's son, he would be pursued by girls as she 
had been by boys only he would never let himself 
become involved with anyone in particular, as she had 
with him. By that time, she would be a nobody, com- 
paratively. But a Sem girl's manner must be no less 
casually correct than her appearance. Not even other 
Sem girls would guess if Joe Militello or whoever else 
happened to ask her out was not just the boy she had 
wanted most. 

Her father's jovial little speech, with its adroit plug 
for the Democratic cause, was finished now, and he and 
Father Carmody came down from the stage together, 
chatting cordially even while acknowledging the applause. 
The priest then made his way over toward the Murray 
twins, while the mayor hurried down the aisle toward 
the door. Pat waved to attract his attention; she might 
as well show him off while she could. 

"Smooth speech, Dad,'* she said when he came over. 

"Thanks, Pat. You kids having a good time?" 

"But def!" she assured him. 

"Fine! Say, that Father Carmody is certainly a regular 
fellow, isn't he, Joe? I clean forgot to reserve a ticket 
for the game tomorrow, but he told me I could sit with 
him in the faculty section, right on the fifty-yard line. 

154 



I asked him over to dinner after. Well, your mother's 
waiting out in the car, Pat, and we're late for the 
C. of C. banquet already. Enjoy yourselves, kids." 

"Everyone likes Father Carmody," said Joe proudly, as 
the mayor left. "He's certainly tops. Just for doing some 
extra work for him this morning, he's invited me to the 
Lakeport Philharmonic concert with him Monday. It's the 
first one of the season." 

"Yes, I know. Mother and Dad always have to go/' 
Pat took out a cigarette. "And I've been asked to 
usher there." 

"I don't know how he gets time for all he does." Joe 
held the match for her. "This morning he had me 
addressing cards for the first meeting of the parents. 
That's his latest idea his and Mrs. Murray's." 

"Mrs. R. Emmett Murray, I presume?" Pat's tone was 
mocking. 

"That's right. She's certainly some society leader, 
isn't she?" 

"Yes if you mean Catholic society." Pat exhaled 
smoke. 

"Catholic society?" The distinction was apparently new 
to Joe. "Aren't you splitting hairs?" 

"TheyVe been split for me," said Pat grimly, though 
she knew Joe would not understand. The band was play- 
ing now, so everyone was talking at once; she hoped Joe 
would not bring her over to visit with Father Carmody 
and the Murrays. Just then, to her surprise, she saw 
Mimi approaching with a friendly smile. 

"Hello, you two," Mimi greeted them. "Pat, you're just 
the one Tm looking for! I've just sprung the most awful 
run, and neither Janet nor I have a drop of nail polish 

155 



with us! Look, isn't that ghastly?" She held out one 
shapely leg. 

"That's what you get for boycotting Japan," said Pat, 
but Mimi looked blank. How like her to come over for 
something like that just because she knew no one else 
present, thought Pat, but, concealing her annoyance 
behind a smile, she fumbled in her bag. "I think I have 
some polish here somewhere, if I can just find it. Youll 
pardon us if we let our hair down, Joe. This is an 
emergency!" 

"That's all right," Joe laughed. "I think I'll run over 
and say hello to Father Carmody while you two are 
repairing the damage." 

A hulking, inarticulate halfback held the stage as the 
girls made their way toward the improvised powder room, 
which was almost empty now that the rally had begun, 
though the air was still blue with smoke. Pat ground 
her cigarette in an ash tray and carefully touched up her 
lipstick before the mirror, while behind her Mimi dabbed 
at her stocking with the polish. 

"Smooth rally, isn't it?" said Pat, to make conversation. 

"Oh, slick!" Mimi agreed. Then she frowned slightly 
with the effort to express a more subtle idea than usual. 
"All this is so new to me. You know, sometimes I think 
you Catholic lads must get more out of your schools. You 
all seem to know just where youVe heading and how 
everything fits in." 

"YouVe got something there," Pat admitted, though 
she had often been irked by the limitations of the Catholic 
education upon which her parents insisted. 

"Like Paul," Mimi went on. "Last night at our dinner 
dance when they served meat, he was simply livid! He 

156 



made them take it right back. Not many boys would do 
a thing like that. 7 * 

"Practically none," said Pat. Trust Paul, instead of qui- 
etly leaving the meat, to make such an issue of it that 
everyone for tables around knew what a fine, upstanding 
Catholic boy Paul Murray was! If he could manage it, 
all St. Ignatius would soon hear of this new martyrdom 
of St. Paul, Pat guessed. 

"Ready?" Mimi looked at Pat in the glass. 

"Just about," Pat gathered up her purse, after a final 
approving glance in the mirror. As they turned to leave, 
Rita burst into the room. 

"Gee whiz, Pat!" she cried, "I been lookin* all over for 
you. I wanted you to hear Nick speak." 

"Oh, was that who was speaking?" Pat looked superior, 
determined to show Mimi that the loud-mouthed Italian 
girl was no more than a tolerated acquaintance. But the 
chill was lost on Rita, who ignored Mimi and leaned con- 
fidentially toward Pat. 

"Say, that reminds me, I meant to tell you somethin' 
Nick told me last night " 

"Can't it wait?" Pat made ready to leave. "I'm sure it 
can't be so important." 

"Oh, you'll want to hear it all right!" Rita grinned 
knowingly. "It's about them cute Murray twins that you 
used to go with one." 

Both Pat and Rita looked interested at the mention of 
the Murrays, and as Rita sauntered over to the mirror 
chewing her gum with elaborate nonchalance, Pat turned 
around. 

"Why, what was it, Rita?" she asked in a friendlier 
tone. 

157 



*Well, Nick says there's somethin* awful funny about 
those Murray twins!" Rita added color to her already over- 
rouged cheeks. 

Pat shrugged. *7 ust some football player's opinion!" 

"Wait a minute, you don't get it!" Rita announced, un- 
willing to lose her audience. "It's not Nick's idea. He heard 
it from a priest at St. Ignatius." 

"Heard what, Rita?" Pat snapped. 

"Well, it's sort of hard to explain," Rita admitted. "But 
Nick says the Murray twins have got some kind of fixation 
with each other!" The very unfamiliarity of the word 
seemed to fascinate her. "You know what a fixation is." 

"Do you?" said Pat. "I think you're getting a little be- 
yond your depth, Rita." She glanced at Mimi, who stood 
aside, regarding Rita with amused incomprehension; she 
had obviously never seen anyone like her at close range 
in all her life. Pat had no idea where this tale of Rita's 
was leading, but she felt a strong desire to let Mimi hear 
the worst, whatever it was. Anything to break through 
that blind, smug look of hers! Aloud Pat said, "What else 
did Nick tell you, Rita?" 

"Well, ain't that enough?" Rita demanded. "Like I said, 
he says they've got this fixation, so they're all wrapped 
up in each other instead of anyone else." 

At this Mimi could not suppress a giggle, though Rita 
cast her a deadly look. Pat suddenly hated them both, but 
rather than defend the Murrays as she might have under 
ordinary circumstances, she merely raised her eyebrows 
and purred, "Well, you never can tell, can you?" 

Having broken her news, Rita jerked her head toward 
Mimi with a look that plainly asked "Who's your friend?" 
so that Pat could no longer avoid introducing them. 

158 



"Oh, I forgot you two don't know each other. Mimi, 

this is Rita Militello, Toe's little sister. Mv cousin Mimi 

r j * 

Jordan, Rita." 

Mimi had obviously quite forgotten Rita's remarks 
when they emerged from the powder room. 

"Your polish was a lifesaver, Pat," she smiled in fare- 
well. "Ill see you around!" 

"Yes, if you spring any more runs, just let me know," 
said Pat. 

"Gee, your cousin looks ritzy," Rita observed chum- 
roily. "Who's she go with?" 

"If you must know, dear, she goes with Paul Murray." 

"Oh, my God!" Rita almost swallowed her gum. "Why 
didn't you say somethin'?" 

"How could I? But don't lose any sleep over it. I'm sure 
she paid even less attention than I did to whatever you 
were driving at about the twins." 

"Yeah? That's good. Just the same, though Oh, here 
comes Nick now. IT1 see you later." 

As she made her way back to Joe, past all the gay, 
laughing faces, Pat bit her lip in helpless chagrin. She 
had tried to score an indirect hit against Mimi and missed, 
but even if she had succeeded, what difference would it 
make now? Mimi had Paul, and nothing Pat or Rita Mili- 
tello said was going to change that. With difficulty, 
Pat summoned up a smile for Joe, who jumped to his feet 
at her approach. 

"Oh, say, Pat," he gulped, awe struck by the smile, "I've 
been meaning to ask you. Could you I mean, would 
you like to go to our dance with me next Friday? If you 
haven't already got a date, that is." 

She had been wondering what was delaying him. There 

159 



was nothing exclusive about St. Ignatius dances as such. 
Not only girls still in the academies but any little stenog- 
rapher or shopgirl who wanted to feel in the collegiate 
swim for one night could come if her boy friend could buy 
a ticket. At Stella Maris, however, it was a point of honor 
especially among the Sem girls, who naturally led the 
whole school not only to make every dance of the sea- 
son, but to make all with leading St. Ignatius men. For 
weeks beforehand the girls rushed around asking each 
other, '"Are you going to the St. Ignatius dance?" solely 
in order to announce, "Oh, yes, I'll be there. They are 
getting to be perfect brawls, but Johnny's on the Student 
Council, you know, so we have to show up . . ." 

'This coming Friday?" Pat echoed, as if taken wholly 
by surprise. "Let's see now, Well yes, Joe, I think I 
could make that all right." 

Despite her unhappiness over Paul, Pat was so relieved 
by Joe's invitation that she listened almost with interest 
as the St. Ignatius coach, last and least optimistic of the 
speakers, finished his talk. Yes, Joe was certainly a com- 
fort. She could still get other boys boys with cars, with 
nicer clothes and a smoother line, but Paul had cured her 
of the glib, breezy type that most of her friends preferred. 
After him she appreciated, or at least tried to make her- 
self appreciate, the value of simple sincerity like Joe's. 

Now the band blared out the Notre Dame Victory 
March,, and the crowd, in a thoroughly hilarious mood by 
this time, gaily roared the irreverent parody more familiar 
to most than the original words. Even Pat sang with them: 

Beer, beer for old Notre Dame, 

Shake up the cocktails, let's start the game. 

Send the freshmen for more gin, 

160 



Don't let a sober sophomore in! 
Though we may stagger, we never fall, 
We sober up on wood alcohol. 
Well have fun and no harm done, 
For the glory of Notre Dame! 

"The Printers' Mass at St. Ignatius Church starts at one, 
doesn't it?" Pat suggested, as the crowd slowly edged out 
of the gymnasium. "If we went down there now, we 
wouldn't have to get up in the morning." 

"Oh, I w^ould, anyway," said Joe. "It's Holy Name Sun- 
day, you know, and Monsignor Straubmeyer's going to 
speak at our breakfast." 

"Never mind, then/' said Pat. "As long as you have to 
fast, we needn't bother going anywhere to eat now r either. 
It'd be after midnight by the time we got any place. I 
can go to noon Mass at St. Charles* tomorrow. I wish I 
had something different to wear, though!" 

Pat was just as well pleased that Joe could not afford 
to take her to the game Sunday, for the interest she 
showed on such occasions was largely a matter of policy. 
St. Ignatius, after all, was definitely small time in the 
football world. So while her mother was attending an 
IFCA tea run by Mrs. Murray, Pat spent the afternoon in 
schoolwork, her latest Glenn Miller records, and calls to 
girl friends about the cocktail party she had decided to 
hold before the dance. 

Her guest list was quite large, for she owed many invi- 
tations, but somehow she could not bring herself to in- 
clude the Murrays. She regretted having to omit Peter 
and Janet, but asking them would inevitably entail enter- 
taining Paul and Mimi as well and that, thought Pat, 
would really be more than she could stand. 

161 



Only when the football game was over did she turn 
on the radio to hear the final score. Annunciation had 
won, she gathered, so she prepared to be properly sympa- 
thetic at dinner. The defeat largely due, it seemed, to a 
fumble by Rita's friend Nick served as conversation 
throughout the meal, though Father Carmody's amusing 
anecdotes of the thick-witted players in his classes kept 
Pat's father from indulging in too much post-mortem 
strategy. 

"Was Janet at the game?" asked Pat, looking very much 
the schoolgirl today in her rose-colored sweater and 
skirt, with harlequin reading glasses adding piquancy to 
her face. The question seemed a fairly roundabout way of 
finding out what she wanted to know. 

"Oh, yes!" said Father Carmody. "She and Mimi Jordan 
were with the Murray twins, as usual. They were going 
out to dinner afterward. What a gay foursome they make! 
I'm so glad to see both those boys getting around socially 
like that." 

"Don't think that's anything new, Father," laughed Pat's 
mother. "They've been popular since they were in romp- 
ers especially Paul. You can ask our Pat here about 
that" 

"Oh, yes," said Pat casually, wishing her mother were 
not quite so willing to talk about anything with anyone. 
"I used to go with Paul in high school. Before I knew Joe 
very well." 

"Anyway, it's a good sign," said Father Carmody, 
"though I notice that even with girls they never go out 
separately." 

"Yes, they've always been very close," Pat's father 
put in. 

162 



"Almost too close for their own good at times," the 
priest observed. "It tends to destroy their individuality. 
People think of either one not as Peter or Paul, but only 
as half of the Murray twins, if you know what I mean." 

"Well, isn't that perfectly natural?" asked Pat's mother. 

"Oh, of course. I'd just like to see both of them get 
their due. As it is, Fm afraid Peter is always overshadowed 
by Paul." 

Pat wondered if Father Carrnody could be the priest 
from whom Nick Antonucci had picked up his distorted 
idea about the twins. It would be just like that big hulk 
to read his own stupid meaning into words spoken on an 
entirely different level. 

"Too bad you have to leave us so soon, Father," said 
Pat's father cordially as they came out of the dining room 
after dinner. 

"Yes, seven is an unearthly hour for a novena to begin," 
laughed the priest, "but duty calls." 

"One of us can give you a lift down, Father," Pat's 
mother suggested. 

"I will," Pat volunteered. It seemed a good chance to 
clear up what, if anything, lay behind this strange talk 
about the Murray twins. 

"Good girl, Pat!" said Father Carmody. "You know, 111 
never forgive Joe for not bringing you over to see me at 
the rally last night. I thought I remembered you from 
Stella Maris ~ 

"Maybe we were waiting for you to come to us," Pat 
suggested archly, as she went to get her coat. 

As she drove down Main Street, Pat became aware that 
Father Carmody was as willing to talk about the Murrays 
as she was. 

163 



"Well, so you used to go with Paul Murray?* he 
remarked. 

"My past is catching up with me," said Pat lightly. 
"Yes, Paul was quite the glamour boy of the Sodality Con- 
ference last year, when I was prefect at the Sem, so it 
seemed like a good idea at the time." 

"I see. And how did you like Peter? He's really the one 
I'd like to know more about." 

"To tell the truth, Father, I've never got to know him 
very well. Boys who go with Mount girls don't usually 
like Sem girls and vice versa, you know. I should think 
Janet could tell you more about Peter than anyone." 

"Perhaps she could, but as a matter of fact I very sel- 
dom see the Straubmeyers. I suppose it's only natural for 
Inna not to care about keeping in touch with her first hus- 
band's family when she's so much happier with her sec- 
ond. So even though Janet's my own niece, I don't know 
her as well as you might think." 

"Well, all I know is that she and Peter always go every- 
where together. He seems like a very nice kid, a little on 
the shy side. Maybe just overshadowed by Paul, as you 
said at dinner." 

"That's what I'm trying to find out," said the priest. 
"Just what there is to that relationship and whether it's 
really the best thing for the two of them." 

"Then maybe I ought to tell you, Father. Last night I 
heard someone else talking about the twins that way, 
too about their being too devoted and so on. Just how 
much is there to that?" 

"Nothing at all, Pat, but what I've told you. I had no 
idea anyone else had even noticed it. What was it you 
heard?" 

164 



"Only that the twins are too wrapped up in each other 
for their own good. But the way I heard it, there was 
such a leer attached it made it sound like something right 
out of The Children s Hour." 

"Good Heavens, Pat, how silly! Who could have got 
such an idea?" 

U A very silly girl, Father. I'd better not tell you who. 
But since then I've been thinking. That kind of talk is 
really playing with fire, isn't it? You can't tell where it 
might lead." 

"Oh, I don't think we need worry about it coming to 
anything serious, Pat/' said the priest. "In that play you 
mentioned, as I recall, the slander was at least potentially 
true of one of the victims, whereas with Peter and Paul 
there's no foundation at all." 

"Yes, of course, Father. I should have known that 
myself. 7 * 

Nevertheless, Pat's mind was still not completely at 
rest. When her momentary bitterness of last night had 
passed, she was troubled by the feeling that she should 
have squelched Rita Militello much more vigorously than 
she had. The very fact that Father Cannody had found 
anything to wonder about in the twins* relationship con- 
vinced Pat that it was no subject for Rita's idle chatter. 
Yes, Rita must be silenced, for if her twisted version 
spread, Pat would feel morally obliged to invite the twins 
to her cocktail party, if only to show her loyalty to them. 
So as much for the sake of her own plans as for the Mur- 
rays, she decided to stop Rita, who, she remembered, was 
attending Father Carmody's novena. 

"Are you staying for the services, Pat?" the priest asked, 
when they had reached the church. 

165 



"Yes, I think I will," she said politely, glad of the op- 
portunity to encounter Rita. "Can I drop you anywhere 
afterward, Father?" 

"No, thanks, Pat, I can take a streetcar out to the 
college." 

Inside, where the pews were rapidly filling with the 
Novena crowd, mostly women, Pat took a seat near the 
back. There was something comforting in the dim, old- 
fashioned richness of the church, Pat felt far more than 
in the severe, if liturgically correct, modernism in which 
St. Charles' was being restyled. Father Carmody was just 
coming out on the altar, when among the last-minute ar- 
rivals Pat noticed her Aunt Irma hurrying up the aisle, 
followed at a more dignified pace by Mrs. R. Emmett 
Murray, distinguished from the rest as usual with a white 
cluster of baby mums on her coat lapel probably the 
same ones she had worn at the card party yesterday and 
at noorr Mass today, Pat guessed. 

Mrs. Murray followed her corsage up the aisle, she 
thought in amusement. Really, that woman would wear 
flowers to the Last Judgment! Thoughts of Mrs. Murray 
drifted through Pat's mind along with the opening 
prayers. In fact, she scarcely realized that the Litany of 
the Blessed Virgin was being said until she heard the title 
"Mother inviolate." That always penetrated, because in 
her childhood it had made her picture the Blessed Mother 
all "in violet/' Like Mrs. Murray and her inevitable blue, 
she thought now. 

"Mother undefiled," came the priest's voice. 

"Pray for us," Pat responded automatically. 

"Mother most amiable." Mrs. Murray was one of her 
mother's oldest friends, Pat knew. 

166 



"Pray for us," murmured the congregation. 

"Mother most admirable." And she was always nice 
enough to Pat. 

"Pray for us." 

"Mother of good counsel," But Pat had never liked her. 

"Pray for us." 

"Mother of our Creator/' Not even when she was going 
with Paul. 

"Pray for us" 

"Mother of our Redeemer/' Everyone else seemed to 
like her. 

"Pray for us." 

"Mother of our Saviour." Maybe they were afraid 
not to. 

"Pray for us." 

"Virgin most prudent/* All that Catholic stuff impressed 
them so. 

"Pray for us." 

<f Virgin most venerable." But Pat bet she was no saint. 

"Pray for us." 

"Virgin most renowned." Just an exhibitionist at heart. 

"Pray for us." 

Virgin most powerful/' Was she content as a "Catholic 
society** leader? 

"Pray for us." 

"Virgin most merciful/* Or did she hope to be a 
Catholic "society leader?" 

"Pray for us." 

"Virgin most faithful/' Staying at Sunrise Point was 
typical. 

"Pray for us" 

"Mirror of justice," That was how Paul met Mimi. . . . 

167 



"Seat of wisdom." Pat bet Mrs. R. Emmet helped that 

along! 

By now Pat no longer even heard her own responses, 
lost as she was in thoughts of the Murrays, especially in 
the light of what Father Cannody had told her. She was 
almost sure that he must be the priest whom Rita had 
quoted as her source, but there was no point in telling 
him how his innocent remarks had been perverted. The 
thing to do was simply to shut Rita up before her story 
got any further. 

When the prayer of St. Bernard and the Novena prayer 
itself had been given, with its momentary pause while all 
silently made their special petitions, Father Cannody 's 
discourse began. So effective was he that even Pat could 
not help listening. Taking his text from the Gospel of the 
day, "Many are called but few are chosen/' he went on 
to distinguish between those who neglected the spiritual 
opportunities afforded them as Catholics and those who 
embraced them. It was not so much the familiar moral as 
the vividness of his language that held die congregation, 
Pat decided. The priest also warned against expecting the 
Novena to guarantee the specific favors requested; God's 
inscrutable plan always came first. That was wise., Pat 
thought, remembering that the realistic football coach 
was the only one whose words at the rally did not seem 
foolish now. 

While the hvmn Mother Dear, O Pray For Me was 
sung, Father Cannody knelt at the altar; one acolyte went 
for the benediction cope and the other lit the candles. It 
w r as then that Pat saw Rita Militello scurrying down a 
side aisle. Quietly she slipped from her seat and out into 
the vestibule, there to let Rita find her. Association with 

168 



Joe had to some extent evercome her condescension 
toward Italians in general, but that could never bridge the 
gap between a true Sem girl and a Mount girl such as 
Rita. Even under the circumstances, Pat was somewhat 
startled to feel her elbow suddenly clutched as a familiar 
voice hissed in her ear, "Say, where do you think you're 
goinT* Rita's friendliest grin was met with a smile that 
held just the proper shade of reserve. 

"I didn't know you were makin' this Novena," said Rita, 
as they emerged from the church. 

"I'm not," Pat explained. "Father Cannody was at our 
house for dinner, and I drove him down here, that's all." 

"Gee, he's a doll, ain't he?" Rita gushed. "And boy, what 
a speaker!" 

"Yes, I knew he'd be good. He gave our retreat at Stella 
Maris this year." 

"He did? Gee, at the Mount we thought we were lucky 
to get Monsignor Straubmeyer." 

"Maybe youTl have Father Carmody if you come to 
Stella next year," Pat suggested politely. 

"Me? Fat chance!" Rita laughed. "With so many boys 
to educate in our family, us girls are lucky to get through 
the Mount. I should worry, though! I work in Henderson's 
beauty salon Saturdays like I told you, so maybe next year 
I can get in one of their other departments, permanent." 

'That would be nice," said Pat, appalled at such a pros- 
pect. At Stella Maris it was considered quite smart, even 
among the Sern girls, to clerk in a downtown store during 
the holidays, just as the St. Ignatius boys worked in the 
post office, but a career as a shopgirl unless in one's own 
"shoppe" was unthinkable. 

"I hear you're goin* to the dance next Friday," Rita 

169 



chattered on. "Lucky you! Nick can't break training. What 
a pain in the neck! But we had a fight last night, anyway. 
We fight somethin' awful! He said all Democrats were 
crooks and I said they were not. I said he was crazy." 

"Do you always fight about politics?" asked Pat, im- 
mensely relieved that she would not have to include Rita 
in her cocktail party. She w r as waiting for Rita herself to 
revert to the Murrays, lest bringing up the subject should 
give it added importance in her eyes. 

"No, it's like this," Rita went on. "Nick's pretty sore at 
the city cause when his family went on relief they had to 
sell their house and everything, so he sort of blames 
whoever's in, I guess, your dad and Dr. Murray and every- 
one. What started us off, though, was when I said I still 
think the Murray twins are cute, no matter what they've 
done." 

"Rita," said Pat firmly, "you rea % must st P saying 
such silly things about the Murrays." Obviously, Rita was 
more ignorant than malicious, but that would not pre- 
vent her doing real harm. 

"You didn't think it was so silly last night, did you?" 
Rita countered, evidently resenting the warning tone. 

"I was thinking about something else then," said Pat. 
"Since then I've realized your line of talk may not only 
be silly but really bad worse than you know." 

"You mean there's more to it?" Rita's beady eyes 
glittered. "What did you hear?" 

"Nothing!" Pat could not keep the exasperation out of 
her voice. 

"Well, gee, you needn't take it out on me," Rita 
protested. 

"Look, Rita." Pat achieved a patient, big-sisterly tone. 

170 



"Haven't you got anything better to do than run around 
repeating a lot of nonsense some jealous football player 
dreamed up about the Murrays?" 

"You seem awful anxious to help them out/* Rita ob- 
served, with feminine malice now. "It wouldn't be that 
you're still stuck on the one you used to go with, would 



"No, it wouldn't!" Pat flushed angrily. "I just don't 
happen to like false rumors spread about my friends!" 

"Gee, wouldn't my brother Joe be surprised to see you 
all hot and bothered about the Murrays!" Rita followed 
up her advantage. "Looks to me like you must know a 
lot more than you're tellinV 

"If I do, at least I have the sense to keep my mouth 
shut! And I think it's about time you learned to do the 
same!" With that Pat turned and strode toward her car, 
pounding her spectator pumps sharply into the pave- 
ment. Another minute, and she would have slapped that 
rabbity face! Anything else she could say, she would only 
regret later, on Joe's account. 

As she switched on the dashboard radio, the surging 
rhythm of Begin The Beguine stabbed her with swift 
memories of last spring, when she had been Paul's proudly 
escorted date. At the Sem's Easter Monday tea dance, at 
the St. Ignatius High Senior Prom, at the Adios the night 
of Paul's graduation everywhere they had danced to 
that music, agreeing it would always be their favorite. 
What song was he crooning in Mimi's ear tonight? 

A twist of the dial brought only unctuous commercials 
or grim-voiced commentators interpreting the day's in- 
decisive war news; so impatiently Pat snapped the radio 
off. Not until she had driven several blocks did she cool 

171 



enough to realize that her words with Rita might well 
have just the opposite effect from what she had in- 
tended. If only the little wretch hadn't made her lose her 
temper! But at least she had done her Christian duty by 
the Murrays. In fact, she was quite sick of the whole 
ridiculous business. At worst no one in his right mind 
could take seriously anything told by Rita Militello. 
There were just two things wrong with that utter goon, 
thought Pat sardonically everything she said and every- 
thing she did. 



172 



Chapter 9 



AS RITA Militello walked home, thinking over what Pat 
had said, she soon became convinced that she had indeed 
stumbled on something far more serious than she had 
thought at first. Pat's defense only confirmed her own 
desire to believe nothing but the best of two such hand- 
some boys as the Murrays, and yet the drama of the situ- 
ation fascinated her. To think she had it in her power to 
influence the lives of the glamorous, unapproachable Mur- 
ray twins! Now that she realized some harm might come 
of the story Nick had told her, her interest resolved into 
a strong desire to shield the boys in true heroine fashion 
though from what, she had only the vaguest idea. 

In an imagination unrestrained by probabilities, she 
saw herself as their one champion against a hostile city. 
Later, when somehow Mrs. Murray learned, she would 
smile graciously and say, "Well, Rita, I only wish all our 
friends were as loyal as you!" Privately, she would suggest 
to the twins, "Why don't you take out that lovely little 
Militello girl? After all, she's done more for us than Janet 
or Pat or anyone." Or perhaps the twins would not even 
need such urging. Overcome with gratitude, they would 
vie with each other in a nice way, of course to shower 
attentions on Rita, who with great difficulty would choose 
one, perhaps letting Janet keep the other. . . . 

And yet what could she do for them if there was no 

173 



one to protect them against? So far, at Mount Carmel she 
had heard nothing but the most rapturous sighs over the 
Murray twins sighs of envy, sometimes, that Janet had 
taken her obvious advantage to secure one, but never of 
despair. There was always the other twin. Since, how- 
ever, he seemed equally remote from most Mount girls, it 
was a subject on which all were in understanding agree- 
ment rather than rivalry. So if none of the others had 
heard, Rita speculated, surely it could do no harm to 
repeat, with proper disapproval, what was being said 
about the Murrays, in order to prove her own loyalty to 
them. 

For the first time since she had become aware of their 
magnetic presence in the circle of Catholic schools, Rita 
would have something to tell her friends about Peter and 
Paul. This time she would be the one to answer excited 
questions in the halls of the Mount. "How did you find 
out, Rita?" "Why, Rita, how well do you know them?" 
"Oh, Rita, youVe been holding out on us! You knew the 
Murrays all the time!" 

As a source of firsthand news about the heroes, Janet 
was usually the center of a large clique of devoted wor- 
shipers. But her matter-of-fact, slightly amused manner 
of discussing her foster cousins only annoyed the more 
starry-eyed just like the ease with which she took in 
her stride all the offices, honors, and friendships for which 
Rita worked so furiously. No one could tell Rita that 
Janet's influential family connections did not prejudice 
the nuns in her favor; was not Sister Marcella practically 
her aunt or something? Well, here was one piece of news 
Janet would not have first! 

Excited by the prospect of her day in the Mount lime- 

174 



light, Rita decided to take a chance on wearing make-up 
in class, in defiance of the school ban, instead of merely 
applying it after school, as most of the girls did. The 
offense passed unnoticed by Sister M. Anastasia ("Klon- 
dike Annie" to her pupils), the nearsighted old nun who 
taught the seniors English during the first period. But in 
the Vergil class nothing escaped Sister Marcella. 

"Rita Militello, will you please leave the room until 
you've washed that ridiculous stuff from your face?" The 
dry 7 indifference of the nun's tone was more humiliating 
than anger. "I'd hate to tell you what you look like now!" 

A barely suppressed giggle ran through the class, whose 
individual differences seemed emphasized rather than 
minimized by the maroon serge uniform of Mount Carmel, 
with its starched collars and cuffs a uniform on which 
the nuns insisted so that the poorer girls would never feel 
outdressed. As Rita stalked from the room, a furious flush 
added to the disastrous effects of the cosmetics. There was 
no doubt those Irish nuns had it in for the Italian girls, 
she told herself bitterly. Janet's pink cheeks might pos- 
sibly be natural, as she claimed, but for all anyone knew, 
she might well be using some brand of rouge more ex- 
pensive than the other girls could afford. But that Janet 
had a stand-in with everybody! 

As she slowly wiped her face to its normal sallow color, 
Rita concluded that it would really be more satisfactory 
not to be quite so open in her revelation about the Murray 
twins. Janet would probably talk her right down in front 
of everyone or go snitching to Sister Marcella or some- 
thing. Better just tell the girls she wanted most to impress, 
binding them neither to repeat the story to Janet nor to 
reveal who had told them. 

175 



The sensation thus created was all she could have 
wished. Thrilled to be let in on a secret about the Murray 
twins, Rita's friends egged her on in horrified delight. 
"Oh, Rita, how awful!" they would cry. "Imagine anyone 
saying things like that about the Murraysl They're such 
dolls, aren't they? What did you say that meant? I wonder 
how much Janet knows. You don't mind if I tell a few of 
the other kids, do you? Goodness, those poor boys! If 
there was only something we could do to help them!" 

In one form or another, such dramatic news flew quickly 
through the Mount, half understood but wholly intriguing. 
The seniors, especially, knowing the Murrays slightly bet- 
ter than the rest, could talk of little else, so that in the 
lunch period, when Janet joined the others at her regular 
table in the cafeteria, she could not but notice the sudden 
silence, followed by such an unnaturally animated burst 
of conversation that she was at once suspicious. Later, 
when she finally wormed the truth out of one of her 
closest friends, she hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. 
All she could gather was that the whole school was talk- 
ing about the Murray twins as if they were being seri- 
ously maligned everywhere outside the Mount. The gen- 
eral impression of their complete innocence was now 
colored by curious, groping speculations as to how the 
rumor started, though even Janet's friend refused to say 
from whom she had heard it. 

Thoughts of Peter usually brought Janet a comfortable 
glow. Not just the look of his face, flat cheeked and square 
chinned, nor the eager lift of his eyebrows when he 
smiled, nor even the lock of fair hair that always fell across 
his forehead. What gave these little things their charm in 
Janet's eyes was Peter himself his straightforwardness, 

176 



his unselfishness toward Paul, and above all, his stubborn 
loyalty to those who had once won his confidence. Even 
his mother's tacit opposition had never worried Janet 
much, for she knew that no amount of pressure could 
change Peter's mind. So now the mere possibility of his 
being threatened in some way filled her with a tender, 
helpless anxiety that had to be communicated to someone. 

As the only one of her late father's relatives of whom 
she saw much, Sister M arcella had always been a favorite 
with Janet, and indeed had unconsciously influenced the 
girl's desire to attend the Mount, However, for that very 
reason Janet was careful to avoid any appearance of apple 
polishing; she left their contacts entirely up to the nun. 
Today, for instance, Sister Marcella had asked her to come 
in after school to help with some blackboard work a 
request which, under the circumstances, she was only too 
glad to grant, though often other nuns' demands on her 
time made her regret that she had ever let them see her 
facility in drawing and lettering. Now as she printed in 
yellow chalk the points of interest on the map of the 
Mediterranean over which the Vergil class would follow 
the wanderings of Aeneas, Janet found it harder than she 
had expected to broach the subject which lay so heavily 
on her mind. 

"Oh, Sister," she began. "Can I talk to you a while? 
About something that's bothering me? 7 * 

"Of course, Janet, dear," smiled Sister Marcella. "What 
seems to be the trouble, a boy problem?" 

"Well, in a way," said Janet. "But not the usual way. 
It's about Peter and Paul." 

"Both of them?" Sister Marcella was surprised. 

"Yes, Sister. I just heard the weirdest thing about them. 

177 



You know even before I started going out with Peter, they 
were always just like cousins to me, so this really has me 
worried. Everyone here at the Mount seems to think 
people are saying that the twins well, that they're 'too 
wrapped up in each other' in some funny way. Isn't that 
strange?" 

"Janet! Don't tell me any of our girls believes such a 
silly thingl" 

"Well, I don't know. No one really believes anything 
bad about them, of course, but all the girls seem to think 
that everyone else does." 

"Goodness, Janet, where could such an idea have 
originated?'* 

"That's what I can't find out. No one will tell where 
they first heard it." 

"In a school this size I suppose it would be hard to 
trace," the nun observed, "especially since we don't like 
to encourage tattletales. But leave it to me, Janet. I'll try 
to find out who's back of it. Meanwhile the important 
thing to do is to stop it before it goes any further." 

"Yes, Sister, that's what I've been trying to do." 

"It's so completely ridiculous, perhaps the best thing 
would be to let it collapse of its own weight. At any rate, 
don't appear to take it seriously. Laugh it off if you hear 
any more." 

"The trouble is, all the girls think they're defending the 
twins, but each time it's repeated, some doubt is cast. If 
they keep harping on that idea long enough, they'll begin 
to say where there's so much smoke there must be fire." 

"Let's hope not, Janet." She patted the girl's shoulder. 
"Don't worry any more about it now. It's just an idle, 
vicious rumor, and as you say, the less it's mentioned, 

178 



the better. So I wouldn't tell anyone else if I were you. 
Unless something unforeseen comes up, there's no use 
upsetting your family needlessly." 

Sister Marcella herself, however, was considerably up- 
set. That such a morbid rumor should even be known, if 
not believed, here in the Mount, of all places, where most 
of the girls knew the twins only by sight! It certainly could 
not have started here. Where, then? At first the nun dared 
not let herself think that Father Carmody's words in class 
could have been the ultimate source, yet until last Friday 
never had she heard anyone mention, except with praise, 
the obvious devotion of the Murray twins. And there was 
that football player. The least she could do was warn 
Russell so that he could check any such gossip at St. 
Ignatius, where surely it must be circulating even more 
commonly than at the Mount. 

Before the adolescent psychology class that afternoon, 
risking the curious glances of the other students, she 
stopped Father Carmody fust outside the classroom. 

"Begging off from an assignment, Sister?" He smiled, 
but then stopped as he saw her serious face. 

"I won't keep you a minute, Father Russell, but there's 
something IVe got to tell you, so you can stop anything 
like it here at St. Ignatius. To make it brief, all the girls 
at the Mount today were talking about the Murray twins 
wondering if their devotion is good for them and so 
on as if someone had said it wasn't" 

"That's strange, Sister. Doesn't sound very good for the 
girls." 

"Exactly, Father, and I don't like it a bit. They seem to 
think the twins have been accused of an 'emotional fixa- 
tion, 5 so to speak." 

179 



"Did they use those words?" Horror dawned in the 
priest's face. "Good Lord, Sister, you don't think " 

'The words are mine," she assured him, "Still, Friday 
when you were talking about the twins it was the Mur- 
rays, of course?" Russell nodded dumbly. "I know more 
than one of the undergraduates recognized them and sus- 
pected the worst. You know how some people can find 
evil in anything. So don't you think you'd better clear 
that up?" 

"I most certainly shall, Sister." Russell's expression was 
stricken. "Great heavens, you know I never meant to cast 
any such aspersions on the Murray s. It's fantastic that 
anyone could even " 

"Well, someone did," she said, "and it's going further 
all the time. You know what you meant and so do I and 
probably most of the other graduate students, but you 
can't tell how it might have sounded to some of those 
boys, especially if they had any kind of grudge against 
the Murrays." 

"Ill soon put a stop to that," Russell promised. "And I 
can't tell you how grateful I am you brought it to my 
attention." 

This was the third time such an idea had come to his 
ears since Saturday, and he could no longer doubt that 
his lecture of last Friday had indeed been picked up in a 
way he had never intended. Joe's questions on Saturday 
morning he had dismissed with a laugh and Pat's doubts 
last night were almost as easily dispelled, but Sister 
Marcella's news made Russell realize with deep concern 
how far the thing had gone. 

He was especially appalled now, for since Friday he 
had learned something that had changed his whole view 

180 



of the Murray twins. Saturday night after the rally he had 
naturally gone over to talk to Monsignor Straubmeyer, his 
boyhood pastor and lifelong friend, and, just as naturally, 
their conversation turned to the twins. Russell had con- 
fided his bafflement about Peter's vocational intentions, 
when to his surpise Monsignor said with a smile, "Oh, did 
Carrie tell you about that, too?" 

"Well, yes, she did," Russell admitted, 'iDut that's as 
much as IVe found out so far.** 

"I wouldn't be surprised if that's aH you ever find out." 
Monsignor shook his head. *Tm afraid Carrie feels that 
vocation more than Peter does. He's always told me every- 
thing, and, believe me, Russell, if he has any ideas like 
that, he doesn't know it yet himself. Of course, Carrie 
means well, but like so many good mothers, she's just 
overanxious.'* 

Russell was no longer even sure that she meant well. 
What possible reason could she have had to mislead him 
so? Was it her way of making sure that he would never 
get to know the twins at all? He would not put such an 
elaborate plan past her by any means. If so, he had cer- 
tainly played right into her hands, for he could see now 
how he himself must have alienated the boys with all his 
encouraging remarks about the priesthood. No wonder he 
never saw them apart! They were simply running inter- 
ference for each other, lest either be trapped alone into 
one of those vocational chats so boring and embarrassing 
to students who had no religious intentions. Doubtless 
they had early dismissed him as a would-be recruiter, 
trying to make new priests where no inclination existed. 
There were such priests, Russell knew, but he had cer- 
tainly never counted himself among them. 

181 



Yes, from their viewpoint the Murrays had every reason 
to withdraw and become a closed corporation to him, 
since Peter had no such problem as his mother had indi- 
cated. The best thing he could do now was to let them 
strictly alone and not make more of a fool of himself 
than he already had. Even in the light of this knowledge, 
he had intended to let his analysis in class stand, since, 
after all, he had not identified the twins and as a the- 
oretical case the example was still valid. His line of rea- 
soning had been logical enough; its fallacy simply came 
from the false premise supplied by Caroline. He should 
have known there was some good selfish reason behind 
everything she did, he told himself. What the motive was, 
he could not tell as yet, but there was a growing suspi- 
cion in his mind that it had something to do with literally 
robbing Peter to pay Paul. Now, however, he must cer- 
tainly retract his statements to the class. 

"If you will return to the notes dictated Friday " he 
began, "I wish to make a correction. You may delete the 
half-dozen sentences or so on the subject of an emotional 
fixation between a pair of twins. In the first place, since 
then I have acquired additional data which forces me to 
dismiss the twins altogether as an example for this class. 
My error simply proves again that psychology is not and 
never can be an exact science, notwithstanding the efforts 
of certain modern materialists to make it that. This is a 
field in which we must always leave room for intangibles. 
Therefore disregard what I said on Friday." He paused 
and drew a deep breath. 

"Furthermore, it has also been brought to my attention 
that the meaning of my remarks has been grossly misin- 
terpreted by someone inside or outside of this class. The 

182 



majority, I am sure, realized that I meant exactly what I 
said -that the mutual devotion of these boys, though 
good in itself, might make them too dependent on each 
other for free development in later life. Nothing else was 
implied. The fact that someone in this room apparently 
used my remarks to slander a pair of innocent boys makes 
me regret very much that I thought of mentioning them 
at all. If I hear any more of such disgraceful nonsense, I 
shall be forced to call in the undergraduates for individual 
talks, and possibly make this an exclusively graduate 
course next term." 

That surely ought to scotch any further talk, he thought. 
There was little use in trying to single out which student 
had first got the wrong impression, for undoubtedly the 
thing had spread quickly. Any of a dozen juniors and 
seniors might be involved, or, for that matter, even some 
of the gossiping spinster teachers. He himself was really 
the one to blame, Russell felt, for letting trust in Caro- 
line's sincerity lead him so far from the truth. He would 
never forgive himself if his words in any way hurt the 
two boys he had tried so hard to understand and help. 

Still lashing himself inwardly for his thoughtlessness, 
Father Carmody thrilled his novena congregation that 
evening with a particularly eloquent discourse on the evils 
of gossip. Afterward, as appointed, Joe Militello met him 
in front of the church. 

"Gee, I'm awfully sorry, but I couldn't get the car 
tonight, Father," the boy apologized. 

"Think nothing of it, Joe," said Russell, though he was 
used to being driven on such occasions. "A nice slow walk 
out to the Music Hall will do us good/' 

"I only wish my father could hear this concert tonight," 

183 



Joe exclaimed. "He loves good music, especially opera. 
We've still got some Caruso records around the house. 
But he's pretty busy these nights with politics and stuff. 
There's going to be a big rally over our way Saturday 
night." 

"I had no idea a Deputy Health Commissioner was ex- 
pected to concern himself with politics/' Father Cannody 
observed. 

"Well, it's like this," Joe explained. "Most of the Italian- 
Americans on the west side sort of look up to my father 
as a leader, so he doesn't like to see them get a wrong 
steer. Right now, you know, the Republicans are trying 
to get the Italian and Polish peoples' support by telling 
them the Democrats didn't treat them right. As if they'd 
treat them half as good after election!" 

"Oh, yes, didn't I hear Nick Antonucci's trying to sell 
the rest of the team on that idea?" Russell recalled. "But 
I don't suppose it will mean much in the long run." 

"Not if my father can help it. He expects to be Health 
Commissioner if Dr. Murray is elected mayor." 

"He does? What kind of man is Dr. Murray, by the 
way? I don't think I've ever met him." 

"Oh, he's a peach sort of quiet, but even nicer than 
Mrs. Murray, if that's possible." 

"It's quite possible," murmured the priest. "Do the twins 
take after him at all?" 

"Well, yeah, I think Pete does, kind of. I don't know 
about Paul, though." 

"Interesting. But tell me, Joe, have you heard any more 
of that ridiculous rumor about the twins you mentioned 
Saturday?" 

"Not exactly, Father. Today in the locker room I heard 

184 



some of the football crowd making cracks, but I couldn't 
see who, over the lockers. I don't think they meant any- 
thing by it, though." 

"No matter what they meant, that must stop," said Rus- 
sell. * S I just wish J could catch someone in the act of re- 
peating that tale! I only hope it doesn't get back to the 
twins themselves; they wouldn't know what to make 

r " 

of it. 

"Ill do everything I can, Father," Joe promised. 
By the time they reached the Music Hall, the lobby was 
well filled. Limousine after chauffeured limousine glided 
up to the entrance, disgorging parties of Lakeport social- 
ites, who, lacking an opera, kept up the Diamond Horse- 
shoe tradition at the opening of the concert season. Many 
stopped at the improvised booth in the center of the 
lobby, where a smartly gowned matron with a red-white- 
and-blue badge on her sequined jacket was selling tickets 
for the "Banquet For Britain," to be held Saturday at the 
Mayflower Club. This gala benefit affair, Russell gathered 
from the posters, though sponsored by the most exclusive 
of Lakeport's few good private clubs, in honor of Sir 
Neville Boyce-Carewe of the British Embassy staff, was 
democratically open to the public at ten dollars a plate. 
Lakeport society was certainly going all out for the Allies, 
thought Russell; hardly a day passed without some new 
relief committee organized or fund-raising function 
announced. 

It was a moment before he recognized the ticket seller 
as Miriam Jordan. Despite obvious care, the once lovely 
Miriam was beginning to show the ravages of time, he 
noted. She wore that bright, animated look one saw on 
so many women o her age and class, except when, now 

185 



and then, the jaded boredom beneath showed through. 
No wonder it took a war even someone else's war to 
give such people the illusion of usefulness, Russell re- 
flected. And that sort of life was the height of Caroline's 
ambition! 

Inside the hall, all the boxes and the greater part of the 
orchestra were soon agleam with starched linen and 
ablaze with family jewels. Mere music lovers, as usual, 
occupied the rear seats or those in the balconies. Daugh- 
ters of Philharmonic subscribers hurried up and down 
aisles as usherettes among them Pat Hartman, looking 
trimly correct even in the plain black woolen dress re- 
quired by such occasions. 

"Oh, look, there's the Mayor and Mrs. Hartman/' said 
Joe, when he and Father Carmody were seated in the first 
balcony. 

"So they are," said Russell, watching Pat lead her par- 
ents down the aisle below to seats very close to the stage. 
Loretta looked quite handsome in something dark red. 
Those who knew anything about music, the priest had 
heard, always sat further back, to enjoy the full effect of 
the blended orchestra, but he was in no position to 
criticize anyone else's musical taste. 

Though he possessed enough superficial knowledge of 
all the arts to impress undergraduates, when necessary, as 
an advanced intellectual, he was the first to admit that 
the theater was the only branch for which he felt a deep 
appreciation. He had bought the tickets for tonight largely 
because he knew it was something Joe would enjoy. While 
the boy sat lost in instinctive response to the music, Rus- 
sell's thoughts, except during the most obviously tuneful 
passages, were as far away as he suspected were those of 

186 



the majority of the audience. He must look up the Hart- 
mans during the intermission, he decided. His connection 
with George through his late brother Larry's marriage to 
Irma was certainly tenuous enough now, but George and 
Loretta seemed more willing to keep it up than Frank 
and Irma. It had been very nice of them to have him to 
dinner yesterday. No doubt the non-Catholic gentry 
would be properly shocked to see their mayor publicly 
chatting with a Jesuit. 

"Why don't you try to find Pat?" he suggested to Joe 
when the applause for the first half of the program finally 
died down. "She won't be so busy now." 

"Good idea, Father. Ill take her into the bar for a Coke." 

One of Joe's nicest qualities was his constant eagerness 
to please, thought Russell as they walked downstairs. Per- 
haps that was what appealed to Pat, though at first glance 
their combination seemed surprising. For Joe's type one 
would have picked some unassuming little girl from the 
Mount, but the fact that he preferred Pat had nothing to 
do with her being the mayor's daughter. Russell hoped 
she appreciated that. 

While Joe went off in search of Pat, the priest made his 
way across the smoke-filled lobby to join her parents at 
the first moment they were alone. 

"Hello, there," he smiled. "Enjoying the concert?" 

"Great staff," said the mayor noncommittally, flicking 
ashes from his cigar. "I'm mighty proud Lakeport has 
such a fine orchestra." 

"Me too, but 111 feel cheated if they don't play a Strauss 
waltz for an encore," laughed Loretta. "That's about my 
speed. I hope the next mayor's wife knows more about 
good music than I do." 

187 



"That will be our friend Caroline, no doubt?" 

"It looks that way, Father/' said George, "if we can just 
keep the Polish and Italian votes in line. We're holding a 
big rally on the west side Saturday to help things along. 3 * 

"Caroline will certainly make the most of the position, 
if anyone will/* the priest observed. 

"It'll be fun for the boys, too/' said Loretta. "I know our 
Pat has always got a big kick out of all the official hoopla." 

"I hope they do enjoy it," said Father Carmody. "They 
deserve the best" 

"Grand kids!" Loretta agreed. "Always have been. But 
what was that you were saying last night, about them not 
being so good for each other or something?" 

"Nothing/' said the priest firmly. **I merely meant their 
devotion might be too much of a good thing for them in 
some ways. I shouldn't even have said that much. Unfor- 
tunately, the idea seems to have been misinterpreted 
already in some quarters." 

"No kidding! Not in Republican headquarters, I hope," 
said George. "At this stage of the game they'd just as soon 
make out the whole Murray family as psychopathic cases 
if they thought it would get any votes for Fenton." 

"Oh, but who'd pay any attention to such a thing, any- 
way?" Loretta scoffed. She turned as an usherette came 
to tell her that the lady in the Banquet For Britain booth 
would like to see her. Although on her arrival she had 
noticed Miriam, she could not have been more surprised 
now by a sudden note from the Queen of England. 

"Oh, there you are, Mrs. Hartman!" Miriam was all 
smiles. She had always called her "Mrs. Hartman," even 
while Bert was alive, Loretta remembered, for she had 
never learned to accept her husband's plebeian family. 

188 



"Yes, here I am," said Loretta coldly. "What can I do 
for you now? I thought you had that Englishman all 
sewed up for your banquet." 

"Oh, we have!" Miriam laughed lightly, "We do hope 
you and the Mayor will be able to attend, though. You 
received two tickets through the mail, did you not?" 

"We did, but youll receive them right back again to- 
morrow." Loretta no longer even bothered being polite 
to her sister-in-law, whom she had come to despise thor- 
oughly. "My husband has to speak somewhere else that 
night. So if that's all you wanted to know " 

"Oh, but it's not." Miriam lowered her voice. "There's 
something I must ask you. You're the only one I know 
who could possibly help me." 

"That's about what I thought," said Loretta. 

"I realize I have no right to ask the least favor of you." 
Miriam's tone was almost humble, for her. "But perhaps 
youTl do this much for Mimi; she's the one most con- 
cerned. Without wasting any more of your time, Mrs. 
Hartman, will you tell me frankly, is there anything 
well, strange about the Murray twins' relationship? Any 
sort of excessive attachment between them?" 

"Certainly not!" snapped Loretta. **Where did you ever 
get such an idea?" 

"As a matter of fact, a friend of mine heard something 
like that and told me. Then, when I questioned Mimi and 
found that she had heard something along the same line, 
I felt I had to talk to someone who knew them well." 

"Well, take it from me, it's a lot of foolish talk! You'd 
have a hard time finding two boys as nice and clean cut 
as Peter and Paul. Anyone who's ever met them ought to 
be able to see tibtat with half an eye!" 

189 



"There has been talk, then?" 

"I suppose you might call it that. Lord knows how it 
started!" Loretta's Irish blood was boiling. "But the whole 
thing's nothing but plain utter foolishness, that's all! 
Mimf s in a lot safer company with nice Catholic boys like 
the Murrays thaa with some of those young society loung- 
ers and you know it!" 

The truth of that statement did not make it any more 
agreeable to Miriam. She had not for one moment be- 
lieved the story about the Murrays; she had simply wanted 
to find out if it was even known on their own level of 
society. They seemed quite gentlemanly boys, for their 
background; but that background was one of which 
Miriam could never approve. From the first she had dis- 
couraged Mimi's attraction to Paul Murray, simply be- 
cause the less Mimi had to do with Catholics, the better 
her mother liked it. She herself had been a fool ever to 
marry a Catholic, Miriam was convinced, determined to 
save her daughter from any possibility of making the 
same mistake. 

Indeed, it had been largely for the sake of future chil- 
dren that the Keiths had insisted on Bert's turning 
Episcopalian, so if by any chance Mimi should develop 
Romanist leanings, all the bitterness, the mutual recrimi- 
nations that had wrecked her parents' marriage from the 
start would have been suffered in vain. Her whole life 
was a retribution for that one foolish move, Miriam often 
thought. Those years in Europe, an escape at the time, 
had brought no lasting satisfaction. Once it was known 
that the same event which left her free to marry also left 
her fortune considerably depleted, the interest of her 
titled admirers became remarkably platonic. After all, the 

190 



Riviera was still full of American heiresses, younger and 
richer. Then, back in Lakeport, Miriam found all the 
eligible men of her own generation either settled hus- 
bands or confirmed bachelors. So Mimi had become her 
chief interest in life, and she was willing to go to any 
lengths to safeguard her future. Already the girl was 
speaking favorably of Catholic education. It was high time 
to come between her and Paul, and now Miriam had a 
perfect excuse for doing so. If necessary, her allowance 
could be cut off, though things would hardly come to that, 
Miriam thought. Mimi had always been a docile enough 
child. 

As Loretta left, Charlotte Phelps caught Miriam's eye 
and hurried over to the booth. 

"Miriam, pet, I thought that woman would never leave! 
Did you ask her about what I told you?" 

"Yes. Of course, she denied the whole thing, but she 
admits that there has been talk, so that settles it. It's not 
the kind of taDc I want my daughter's name connected 
with." 

"Exactly, darling. Even the best families can't afford too 
many scandals," purred Charlotte. "You know, when I 
heard that little Italian manicurist in Henderson's talking 
about those Murrays that way Saturday, I was simply 
heartsick for Mimi's sake! Naturally, youll put an end to 
this Murray affair now, won't you?" 

"Naturally. It's what I should have done in the first 
place. But you haven't mentioned what you heard to any- 
one else, have you?" 

"I don't think so. I may have said something to someone 
at the Porter Fentons' breakfast at the Hunt Club yester- 
day, but Tm sure no one paid any attention. Anyway, 111 

191 



tell Natalie Fenton there's nothing to it, the very next time 
I see her." 

"Yes, do," said Miriam, dismissing that aspect of the 
subject. "If only I hadn't mailed the Murrays those tickets 
for the Banquet! The wife is just the type to jump at it, 
Tin sure. But I thought it might be wise, in case he should 
be elected, you know." 

"Yes, I suppose that's something we must be prepared 
for," sighed Charlotte. "At least she looked fairly decent 
when you pointed her out to me at dinner the other day." 

"Oh, yes, she does make rather a striking appearance, 
with that white hair and the blue eyes and everything she 
wears designed to show them off. She'd be more bearable 
than some we've had to endure," Miriam conceded. "But 
do you realize, Charlotte, the Catholics have run Lakeport 
for twelve years now? That crowd that's in now is a reg- 
ular dynasty all intermarried into each other's families. 
Next thing we know the Republicans will be nominating 
a Catholic!" 

"Heaven forbid!" said Charlotte, leading the way back 
to their box. 



192 



Chapter 10 



WHILE it was hardly true that St. Ignatius boys lived 
from dance to dance, as Stella Maris girls were said to do, 
the dance as the most elaborate form of college social 
event held unique importance. At St. Ignatius these days 
the question was not "Are you going?" but "Which hag 
are you dragging this time?" especially among the fresh- 
men, doubly eager because their first dance as college 
men was in honor of their own ckss. Thus when Mimi 
Jordan called Wednesday afternoon, Paul was not only 
shocked but sorely chagrined at her news. 

"But we made the date weeks ago!" he kept protesting, 
unable to accept what she was saying. 

"I know, Paul, and I'm simply sick about it!" Mimi actu- 
ally sounded as if she had been crying. "But these rela- 
tives of Mother's came in unexpectedly today, and I've 
just got to entertain them Friday night. Mother's so busy 
with the Banquet For Britain, you know." 

"Okay, then, Mimi." There was no use letting her know 
how much it would have meant to him to show her off at 
the dance. "I'll be calling you again." 

"Yes, Paul," she said. "Do that some time. Good-by 
now!" 

Paul strode upstairs to the twins' large front room, 
where Peter sat at his desk doing homework. 

"That's a hell of a note!" Paul exploded, flinging him- 
self on one of the twin beds. 

193 



Peter looked up from his work. "What's up, Paul?" 

"Two days before the dance, and Mimi breaks our 
date!" 

"She did? I thought nothing short of two broken legs 
could keep a girl away from a St. Ignatius dance." 

"It's more like two flat tires, I guess. Some relatives of 
her mother's she's got to entertain Friday night." 

"Gosh, that is tough for both of you." 

"Especially for me. She did sound quite broken up, 
though, 111 say that much. When we said good-by, it was 
almost as if she didn't expect to see me again." 

" 1 smiled, so did you, but both of us knew, it was my 
last good-by to you!'" Peter sang, laughing. "Buck up, 
kid! You know you can see her any time you feel like it. 
Things just come up like that once in a while." 

"Meanwhile, though, who will I get for the dance at 
this late date?" 

"That, as they say, is the question. Well, you're the one 
with the little red book. Better start using those numbers." 

"Pat Hartman always seemed to go for me," Paul 
mused. "Do you know if Joe has definitely dated her?" 

"I suppose so, but I'm not sure. I haven't seen much 
of Joe all week. Maybe he thinks we want to cut him out 
with Father Carmody." 

"Guess it won't do any harm to try Pat, anyway ." Paul 
went downstairs again and dialed the Hartmans' number. 
He could hear the catch in Pat's voice when she realized 
who was calling. 

"Oh -Paul! Well, how's everything?" 

"Fine and dandy, Gorgeous." Paul turned on all his 
charm. "Except for one thing. You'd never believe this, 
but Tve been so up to my ears with that play of mine 

194 



and stuff at school that I never remembered till this very 
afternoon there's a dance Friday! To wit, the freshman- 
senior dance in the Lakeport ballroom, semiformal. So 
jumping on my pogo stick, I went galumphing off to 
the nearest phone, in quest of Patricia, fairest of all 
Hartmans " 

"Just a minute now. You mean you're asking me to the 
dance?" 

"That is correct. That is absolutely correct! Give the 
lady ten silver dollars!" 

"And give the alleged gentleman one wooden nickel to 
make another phone call!" Pat retorted. "Even if I hadn't 
had a date for weeks, Paul Murray, do you think I'd go 
with you on the last minute like this?" 

"I told you how it was, didn't IF' Paul protested. 

"Better try that line on someone who doesn't know 
you! It's too bad Mimi didn't break your date sooner, so 
you could have got someone else in time!" 

"Now, Pat, don't get me wrong " 

"I haven't! Furthermore, if I never got to the dance, I 
certainly wouldn't be found dead there with you any- 
more than Mimi would!" 

She hung up with a slam that left Paul's ear ringing. 
Upstairs, he reported the surprising conversation to Petar. 

"She was probably just mad at you for calling so late," 
Peter suggested. "After all, two days before an important 
dance is pretty short notice for a girl like Pat." 

"But what did she mean by that crack about not going 
with me anymore than Mimi would? What's wrong with 
me? Am I slipping?" 

"Listening for the patter of little crows' feet again?" 
Peter laughed. "Relax, Paul. You're going places fast in 

195 



school, aren't you? Ill be surprised if you're not picked 
to represent St. Ignatius High in the freshman ceremonies 
at the dance." 

"Yeah. Sure." Paul took comfort in thoughts of his bud- 
ding extracurricular career. Good old Pete could always 
think of the right thing to say when a guy felt low. 
"If Mimi can't come, it's just her tough luck. I'll dig 
someone else up." 

"That's the spirit!" Peter smiled. "How about Joe's kid 
sister? Janet says she's wild about you." 

"You mean she's wild, period," said Paul. "There are 
things worse than staying home from the dance." 

By dinnertime he had tried three more possibilities, all 
with a lack of success that was singular for him. When 
he explained the situation to his parents, his mother 
seemed quite surprised. 

"Isn't that strange?" she said. "I didn't see anything in 
the papers about any relatives of Mrs. Jordan coming 
to town. Usually her every move is reported." 

"It couldn't be that the mother made Mimi break the 
date for any reason, could it?" Dr. Murray suggested. 

"Of course not!" said Caroline sharply. "Why should 
she do a thing like that? It was only Monday, you know, 
we got those invitations to the Banquet For Britain. She 
must have forgotten to enclose a note, but I know they 
were from her." 

"Invitations, at ten bucks a head!" laughed Bob. "When 
is the thing, anyway?" 

"This coming Saturday," said Caroline, hastening to 
add, "I suppose they just didn't get around to sending 
some of the invitations till this week." 

"Or maybe it wasn't going over as big as they thought 

196 



at first," Peter suggested and received a withering glance 
from his mother. 

"Saturday? We can't go to that, Caroline/' Bob 
protested. "It's the night of the big rally on the 
west side!" 

"You mean you can't, dear. There'll be lots of un- 
escorted women there. I won't mind going alone, really." 
Caroline was not in the least disturbed by his news; 
indeed, most of her social triumphs had been achieved 
on her own rather than with Bob. "I saw the most 
stunning gown in Henderson's the other day. Silver net 
over aqua moire. Just the thing to set off my sapphires! 
And with a blue flower in my hair. ..." She stopped 
as she saw the expression on Bob's face. 

"But Caroline! I knew there was something I meant 
to tell you since yesterday. The Militellos want us to 
come to dinner before the rally. The doctor asked me 
at the office yesterday." 

"And you accepted? Without even calling me? 
Really, Bob!" 

Caroline postponed further discussion of this irritating 
issue until the twins had gone upstairs to finish their 
homework. She stood before the fireplace, drawn to her 
full height, while Bob sat down at the desk to work on 
his speech for Saturday. 

"When Mrs. Militello doesn't even know enough to 
invite me herself," she said coldly, "I don't see why I 
have to miss the only chance I've ever had to set foot 
inside the Mayflower Club!" 

"Now, Caroline." Bob turned from his work with a 
patience she found exasperating. "They probably figured 
there was no need to call you after the doctor asked 

197 



me. And however little his wife may know, take it from 
me he'd be highly insulted if I showed up without you 
Saturday/* * 

"But the first time Mrs. Jordan has taken any notice 
of us at alir 

"Never mind her. I didn't care much for the idea of 
going into politics, as you know, but now that Tm in, 
I want to do things right. You want me to be elected, 
don't you?" 

"Of course, Bob, for your sake " 

"And for your own." Bob smiled. "You deserve what- 
ever fun you can get out of being the mayor's wife, 
Caroline, after giving so much of your time to all these 
Catholic causes you don't really care about." 

"What do you mean, I don't really care about?" 
Caroline flared, 

"Just that I know it's not as much fun for you as people 
may think. You'd rather be rubbing elbows with the 
Jordans at things like this banquet Saturday. And if I'm 
elected, you will. But not if the Republicans get all our 
Polish and Italian support. See what I mean?" 

"Yes, dear," sighed Caroline with a resignation she 
still could not feel. "I suppose you're right. But after you 
are elected, the Militellos won't expect to go around with 
us or anything like that, will they?" 

"That's hard to say. A politician has to keep in with 
everyone, you know." 

That necessity had never been quite as clear to 
Caroline as now. Yes, she supposed, for every contact 
like Miriam Jordan she would have to make a dozen 
like Mrs. Militello. Oh ? well, at least she could treat 
them all with the dignity becoming her position. 

198 



"All right, Bob, if you insist," she conceded. "I can't 
imagine what Mrs. Jordan will think of us, though." 

"Just about what she's been thinking, probably," said 
Bob. "I still say it's ten to one she had a hand in breaking 
Mimi's date with Paul." 

"Anyway, it certainly leaves the poor boy in an awk- 
ward fix. Ill tell Irma on the way to the novena tonight; 
perhaps, if all else fails, Janet might know some nice girl 
for a blind date." 

By Friday, however, Paul was still without a date, 
blind or otherwise. Thus, Caroline, while preparing her 
speech for the St. Ignatius parents' meeting, was 
pleasantly surprised when Olga showed Janet into the 
living room late that afternoon. 

"Well, Janet!" The circumstances seemed to require 
cordiality. "Did you get someone for Paul, after all? 
You needn't have come all the way over " 

"No, it's not that, Aunt Caroline." Still in her Mount 
uniform and without make-up, the girl looked strangely 
serious. "Are the twins home?" 

"Why, yes, they're upstairs, I believe." 

"Will you call them, Aunt Caroline?" Janet broke off. 
"Oh, dear, I should have come before, but I just couldn't, 
till Mother made me." 

"What is this all about, Janet?" Caroline felt her heart 
quicken in apprehension. 

"Wait till the boys are here," said Janet wearily. 

Quickly, Caroline went to the foot of the stairs and 
called them. Peter came bounding down, but Paul fairly 
dragged himself, dramatizing his deep disappointment 
about the dance. Both were surprised to see Janet. 

199 



"Now, Janet, what does all dais mean?" asked Caroline, 
when the four of them were seated. Here, to her astonish- 
ment, Janet burst into tears. 

"Gome now, dear, it can't be that bad." Caroline went 
over to the girl, administering perfunctory comfort, while 
both boys looked helplessly distressed. 

"It is, though. It's worse than you can imagine," Janet 
sobbed. When she had recovered herself, she went on. 
"I don't know how to begin, it's all so awful. But I think 
I know why Mimi broke her date with Paul, and why 
he couldn't get anyone else." 

"Why? What did I do?" Paul sounded afraid. 

"Nothing, Paul. It just kills me to tell you, but maybe 
it's better to hear it from me. There's been a rumor, 
a horrible, crazy rumor circulating about you the two 
of you." 

"About Paul and me?" Peter's face was deadly serious. 

"Yes, that's what's so unbelievable. They're saying that 
you two well, that you have some kind of 'emotional 
fixation' on each other! There, now it's out." 

"But I don't even know what that means!" Paul gasped. 

"What do you think it means?" Peter snapped. 
"Good God!" 

"Janet, do you realize what you're saying?" cried 
Caroline, sickened by the dazed horror in her sons' faces. 

"I hardly know, Aunt Caroline, and neither do the 
people whoVe been repeating it." 

"Where could you have heard such a thing?" murmured 
Caroline numbly, visioning its infinite possibilities for evil. 

"It's been all over the Mount since Monday," said 
Janet. "Rita Militello says it's all over St. Ignatius too. 
No one believed it at first, of course, but you know how 

200 



tilings get around. Now I suppose they're beginning 
to wonder." 

"I called girls from practically every school in town/* 
said Paul. "Do you think they've all heard? But who'd 
believe such a thing about us?" 

"Oh, probably a lot of them just had dates," said 
Janet. ''But I do think Mimi must have heard it some- 
how, and, of course, she wouldn't want to get mixed up 
in any talk like that." 

"So now you want to break your date with Peter!" 
Caroline judged by what she would do in the circum- 
stances. "At least, you've given the real reason/' 

Janet faced her aunt squarely. "I didn't say anything 
about breaking our date! You ought to know me well 
enough for that! I'll do whatever Peter wants to do, but 
it's for him, Aunt Caroline, not you. After the way youVe 
treated me ever since last summer, I don't think I owe 
you anything!" 

"I'm sorry, Janet, I didn't think you had it in you " 
Caroline was genuinely surprised by the girl's flash of 
temper. "I coudn't blame you if you did decide not to 
go tonight. But why didn't you tell us this awful 
thing before?" 

"I thought it would all blow over before this. Sister 
Marcella advised me not to worry the family unless it 
was necessary. But when I heard about Mimi Wednesday 
night, I knew why. Last night I finally broke it to Mother, 
and she told me to come in after school today. Someone 
had to warn you." 

"Just when everything was coming along so nice at St. 
Ignatius!" Paul was muttering. "I was going to run for 
freshman president! That's a laugh now!" 

201 



"What will Dad ever think?" Peter wondered. 

"You mustn't tell him!" Caroline was sure of that much. 
"He has worries enough on his mind as it is. Haven't 
you noticed how tired he looks lately?" 

"But, Mother, we need someone older to talk this 
over with," Peter protested. 

"Ill have Father Carmody come over and spend to- 
morrow morning with you," Caroline promised. 

"Oh, Mother, not him!" Peter grimaced. "Why don't 
you call Monsignor? Or I can get Father Noonan from 
school." 

"After all, it's right in Father Carmody's line," said 
Caroline firmly. "Hell help you see how really ridiculous 
this whole thing is." 

"Yes, Carmody's a good egg," Paul admitted. "But no 
one can just laugh off a thing like this." 

"But we must not worry your father!" Caroline rapped 
her sapphire ring on the glass top of the coffee table. 
"Not a word at dinner tonight! Perhaps you'd better run 
along, Janet, before the doctor gets home." 

"All right, Aunt Caroline." Janet arose. "I don't suppose 
you'll feel like going to the dance now, will you, Peter?" 

"You've got to go!" Caroline broke in sharply. "With 
both you boys on the committee, what would people 
think if neither of you showed up tonight?" 

"You're right, Mother." Peter looked resolute. "ItTl be 
hell for us, but we've got to see it through. Are you 
game, Jan?" 

"I said I'd do whatever you wanted." 

"It's very good of you to stand by us like this, Janet," 
said Caroline dutifully, accompanying the girl toward 
the door. 

202 



"I hope you won't forget it, Aunt Caroline." 

"I only wish Mimi had half your guts," murmured Paul. 

Dinner was a dismal affair, but with Peter's help Caro- 
line managed to keep Bob from noticing anything un- 
toward. PauTs obvious depression was easily attributed 
to his failure to get a date for the dance; he always gave 
free rein to his moods, anyway. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you 
to that parents' meeting?" asked Bob, when he saw 
Caroline put on her hat. "If all the other boys' fathers 
are going to be there " 

"No, dear, you deserve an evening to yourself now 
and then," said Caroline. He did look very tired, she 
noticed; his energies must not be wasted on something 
she could easily handle herself. Besides, she wanted the 
chance to talk to Russell alone. 

Before leaving, she went upstairs for a final word with 
the boys, who had naturally retired there to talk matters 
over. Paul lay stretched on his bed, near to tears, she 
saw, while Peter sat trying to cheer him. 

"Don't take it so hard, darlings," she urged. "In a few 
weeks well all look back and laugh over the whole thing." 

"You'll be back after the novena, won't you, Mother?" 
Paul's eyes were pleading. 

"Not right afterward, dear." Caroline avoided his gaze. 
"You remember, tonight is the first parents' meeting at 
St. Ignatius. But it won't last long. Ill have to be home 
about ten, anyway, so Peter can use the car." 

"Oh," said Paul. "Gee, I don't feel as if I ever want 
to go back to St. Ignatius again." 

"Nonsense, dear, where else could you go?" said Caro- 
line firmly, "You'll feel differently in the morning. Now 

203 



cheer up, for heaven's sake! If you stay up here moping 
all evening, your father will certainly know something's 
wrong." 

Caroline herself, however, was far more worried than 
she would admit. For the first time in months her 
comfortable sense of heightening anticipation was com- 
pletely upset. Reason with herself as she might, she 
could not ward off a sense of impending disaster, as if 
somehow the tide of her luck had turned. Just when 
everything was coming along as planned, what could have 
brought about this weird complication? The whole thing 
was so utterly unthinkable. With its Freudian undertones, 
the gossip seemed more like something out of the decadent 
Vienna of her reading than safe, normal, everyday Lake- 
port. It was as if some dark evil force had been loosed 
from the twisted depths of someone's mind and would not 
rest until it had destroyed its victims. Only with difficulty 
did Caroline succeed in controlling these shadowy and 
quite uncharacteristic fears. 

But besides this first reaction of indignant horror, the 
possibility that the slander might have reached the ears 
of Republicans unscrupulous enough to use it made her 
uneasiness more specific. On the way to the novena, 
Irma, despite her sunny efforts to make light of the 
problem, agreed that political repercussions were by no 
means impossible. Whispering campaigns involving candi- 
dates' families were nothing new in Lakeport With this 
in mind, Caroline prayed furiously during the services that 
whatever was being said would not interfere with Bob's 
election. He had to win now! Surely God owed her that 
much for all this cruel embarrassment. 

As the novena was to conclude tonight, Father Car- 

204 



mod/s discourse summarized and clinched the points he 
had been making all week against what he termed 
"Sunday Catholics." 

"There are all too many" his persuasive voice filled 
the church "who feel entitled to a special throne in 
heaven just because they have never murdered nor stolen 
nor committed adultery. But there are seven other com- 
mandments, my dear Catholic people! And there are 
seven deadly sins none more deadly than the sin of 
false pride, by which the angels fell, by which the 
Pharisees lost their immortal souls! 

"We all know that of faith, hope, and charity, the 
greatest is charity. We have all heard time and time 
again that *if I speak with the tongues of men and angels 
and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass or 
a tinkling cymbal.* Yet how many little acts in all our 
daily lives are ruled by nothing but pride! Pride in 
appearance, pride in wealth, pride in birth, pride in 
intellect, yes, even pride in one's own virtue! 

"At the same time we profess the Mystical Body of 
Christ, we judge others by the most superficial standards 
of modern paganism. Yes, and there are those who would 
use the cause of Catholic Action itself as a means for 
personal advancement! Fortunately, this type is relatively 
rare among the many devout lay people working to 
advance the Church Militant, but it is still not rare 
enough!" 

Caroline could have sworn he was looking directly 
at her; but, of course, that was just one of his oratorical 
tricks. Probably every woman in church felt the same 
way. She was glad that she had less reason than most 
to reproach herself. 

205 



"What could be more monstrous, my dear friends," 
lie went on, "than to have God's own truth and use it 
only to give an odor of sanctity to petty social intrigues? 
To miss the essential spirit of our faith for some of its 
accidental forms! Such professional Catholics' rank only 
with those who are ashamed to profess their religion at 
all. Both sins, opposite in outward effect, grow out of the 
same worldly vanity ." 

Russell was a fine one to talk about worldly vanity, 
thought Caroline, with all his appearances in the 
public eye. 

'Think on these things, my dear Catholic people, when 
you ask our Blessed Lady to grant the special intentions 
for which you made this novena. Only your own heart 
can tell how much or how little you deserve to be 
so favored." 

Caroline had not the least doubt that her prayers 
should receive prompt attention. Though somewhat 
shaken by the sinister and unexpected threat to all her 
well-laid plans, she was far from humbled. Surely the 
Queen of the Most Holy Rosary would not be so unjust 
as to disappoint her when she so seldom made novenas. 
Such a thing might well impair her faith, at least 
in novenas. 

Afterward, she and Irma waited for Father Cannody, 
but it was not until she had taken Irma home and was 
driving on toward the college that she told the priest 
what was uppermost in her mind. He looked extremely 
serious as he listened. 

"So that ugly story is still making the rounds," he 
observed gravely. 

"Still, Father? You mean youve known for some time?" 

206 



"I've liad reason to, Caroline. It's my own words coming 
back to me, though changed beyond recognition." 

"Russelll" she gasped. "What do you mean?" 

"Ill explain everything. Please try to understand how 
this unfortunate thing came about. Last Friday I was 
giving my adolescent psychology class a lecture on the 
subject of emotional fixations that is ? attachments 
carried to excess. They're commoner than you might think 
in families between parents and children, for instance." 

"Yes, yes, but how did the twins get into it?" Caroline's 
curiosity to know the whole truth checked even her 
growing resentment against Russell. 

"I used them as an example not by name, of course. 
I know now it was unjustified and there's no such fixation 
between them, even potentially, but at the time I was 
going on what you yourself told me." 

"What I told you? When? I never even thought of 
such a thing." 

"Not in those precise psychological terms, perhaps. 
But you remember the day you came to organize the 
parents, how you lamented Peter's social maladjustment, 
and so on?" 

"You know I never meant anything like that!" 

"How was I to know? I'm not trying to justify myself, 
Caroline, but after all, if what you told me had been 
true, what cause could there be but Peter s devotion to 
Paul? You yourself as much as said that was all that 
stood in the way of his following a vocation, didn't you?" 

"Well, I thought it was." Caroline had a feeling of 
being caught in her own trap. 

"No you didn't, Caroline. For the simple reason that 
Peter never had a vocation." 

207 



"How do you know? You haven't even got to know 
him at all." 

"Nor shall I ever, probably. After all the vocational 
hints I threw at him, on your say-so, he undoubtedly got 
the impression I was trying to railroad him into 
the Order." 

Forced into a corner, Caroline decided to fight back. 
After all, she had done Russell no harm, but, intentionally 
or not, he might have done her a great deal. She was 
still the injured party. 

"What you say may be all very true," she said loftily, 
"but the fact remains that you did start this dreadful 
rumor about the twins. If what you told your class was 
as harmless as what I told you, how did all this other 
kind of talk start?" 

"I wish I knew, Caroline. Last Monday, as soon as I 
heard about it, I spoke very sharply to the entire class 
and told them there was absolutely no foundation to 
such gossip. All week I kept my ear to the ground for 
any more of it, but there's been nothing, so I thought 
it had died down till you just mentioned it." 

"Perhaps it has, at that." Caroline felt somewhat 
relieved. "Just hearing it today, of course, the shock is 
still fresh in my mind. The one thing that makes me 
wonder how far it's gone is the way Mimi Jordan broke 
her date with Paul." 

"Its quite possible that may have had nothing to do 
with the story, Caroline. Naturally, that was tie first 
thing that occurred to Janet because she'd been worry- 
ing about it, but that doesn't make it so. In fact, it's too 
bad she had to tell you at all. It might have been better 
if the boys had never known." 

208 



"Yes, it's taken a terrible effect on them. They've got 
along so well at college so far." 

'This may be the price of that popularity, Caroline. 
No one spreads mmors about nonentities. Unfortunately 
there's always a certain element, even at St. Ignatius, 
who'd just naturally resent two freshmen being made so 
much of and seize any chance to bring them down to 
the common level or lower." 

"I think I understand now, Father,** said Caroline, 
grateful for his rational explanation. She was in no posi- 
tion, she realized, to hurl the accusations that had first 
occurred to her. If Russell said no more about her 
responsibility in planting the idea, she could forgive his 
unwitting part in spreading it. 

"I've done all I could to kill the thing at its source," 
he said. "I only wish there were something else I could 
do of more practical help." 

Perhaps there is." A new idea had occurred to Caro- 
line. In spite of what she had just learned, why not go 
through with her plan of letting Russell counsel the boys? 
If he told them the whole story, or as much as he thought 
good for them to hear, then surely he would win Peter's 
confidence. No more vocational encouragement would be 
necessary; that had been too crude an approach for a boy 
like Peter. The sheer force of good example, the more 
telling because it would be entirely unconscious, might 
prove far more effective in the long run. Once Peter 
came to trust and admire Father Carmody sufficiently, it 
should not be too difficult to see that he carried that 
admiration to the point of imitation to choosing the 
same way of life, in short. Surely Russell could have no 
objections if things worked out that way. 

209 



"The boys are naturally all broken up," she said aloud. 
"We don't want to worry their father at this time, of 
course, but they do need more help than I can give. 
I wish you could come over and talk to them tomorrow 
morning. Otherwise I may even have difficulty in getting 
them back to school Monday." 

"I'd be very glad to, Caroline, if you think they'll listen 
to anything I have to say, under the circumstances." 

'"We'd all be very grateful to you, Father," she said 
sweetly. 

In spite of her iron self-control, the parents' meeting, 
her first public appearance since she had heard the 
rumor, was more of an ordeal than she had expected. 
She could scarcely look at anyone without wondering 
how much they had heard about the twins, and how 
much they believed or suspected. Even Father Carmody's 
warm introduction sounded hollow tonight, Caroline felt. 

"In Lakeport, as we all know," he said, "wherever there 
is anything Catholic to be done, there we can always find 
Mrs. R. Emmett Murray, leading, organizing, directing 
in the way that has made her name synonomous with 
Catholic Action of the most active sort. Thanks to her 
tireless efforts, you parents of St. Ignatius College stu- 
dents are now to enjoy all the rights and privileges of 
a parents' society. I think I may safely say that no one 
but Mrs. Murray could possibly have conceived and 
carried through such a plan at this particular time. Ladies 
and gentlemen, it is with a sense of awe that I give 
you Mrs. R. Emmett Murray." 

Adjusting her pince-nez, Caroline arose. With her large 
hat, her blue velvet dress set off by pearl earrings and 
necklace and her corsage of white rosebuds, she was 

210 



glad that she looked her best tonight as she gazed from 
the stage of the small auditorium at the nondescript finery 
of the other women, sitting beside the minor business- 
men, obscure professionals, and white-collar workers who 
were their husbands. None of the men looked even as 
distinguished as Bob. That was one drawback about St. 
Ignatius; so many of the better Catholic families sent their 
sons to college out of town. But after all, that only made 
the Murrays shine the more by comparison. 

"Our Father Carmody is too modest/' she confided to 
her audience when she had outlined the ostensible pur- 
poses of the organization. "No matter what he says, this 
society could never really have been formed without the 
most complete co-operation and the most energetic work 
on his part. Only the idea was mine. It was Father Car- 
mody who, in spite of numerous other activities known 
to you all, put that idea into practical form. It was he 
who notified you parents and thus made this meeting 
possible. Speaking as one who has known him a long 
time, I can assure you were very lucky indeed to have 
Father Carmody as our moderator!" 

With a dazzling smile in his direction, she sat down. 
There, that should keep him properly buttered up for 
her revised plans. He took over the meeting again, and 
when the rough basis for a constitution had been drawn 
up, it was decided to elect a temporary president and 
let him or her appoint the other officers until a regular 
election could be held, when they all knew each other 
better. 

"Really, I don't deserve such an honor!" Caroline was 
all dewy-eyed surprise when she was unanimously chosen 
president; she knew she should have no difficulty retaining 

211 



the office as long as she desired. Promptly, she appointed 
Mrs. Militello as acting secretary, and as treasurer the 
wife of a Polish lawyer she knew to be politically in- 
fluential on the east side. 

When the meeting was adjourned with a prayer by 
Father Carmody, Caroline moved among the parents, 
pouring out more concentrated charm than she usually 
did in a whole week. That frightful story must be checked 
at any cost! Mrs. Militello looked properly honored by 
her new position. 

"You and Dr. Murray are coming to eat at my house 
tomorrow night?" She smiled, as if she were not quite sure. 

Caroline beamed back. "Oh, yes, I'm looking forward 
to it. I simply adore the Italian cooking at Leonardo's!" 

When the last parents had gone into the cafeteria, 
where refreshments were being served, Caroline turned 
to Russell. 

"Well, it seems to be corning along nicely, doesn't it?" 
she observed. 

"How could it miss, with you to guide it?" 

"I do try to handle things right," said Caroline modestly. 
"But I must be going now, so Peter can use the car 
for the dance." 

"Do you mean to say he's coming?" Russell's dark eyes 
widened in surprise. 

"Yes, he and Janet decided to go ahead just as if 
nothing had happened." 

"Good for them!" said the priest. "I have to put in an 
appearance too, as a chaperone, so 111 probably see them 
there. You know, Caroline, the more I hear about those 
two boys, the more I'm inclined to think it's not Peter 
who needs a steadying hand so much as Paul." 

212 



Chapter 11 

THE honor of driving Father Carmody to the dance 
was warmly contested among the freshmen, but after 
due consideration Joe Militello was chosen. Thus when 
Pat's cocktail party finally dispersed, Joe and Pat picked 
up the priest on their way to the Hotel Lakeport. 

Giving Joe his hat and coat to check, Russell made 
his way through the crowded foyer, amid greetings on 
all sides. The scent of hundreds of corsages mostly 
gardenias faintly perfumed the air, while the roar of 
conversation vied with the brassy strains of the dance 
music from the ballroom proper. Around three sides of 
the latter ran a balcony a perfect place from which 
to keep an eye on things, Father Carmody decided. 

From here he enjoyed a colorful panorama of the large, 
densely packed dance floor, at present further congested 
by a Conga chain formed by several hundred of the 
thousand-odd dancers. Shouts of "One, two, three, kick!" 
mingled with the pulsing rhythms of La Conga, which 
was becoming very popular now in the rising vogue of 
all things Latin-American. Not for the first time, the 
priest wondered briefly how any Good Neighbor policy 
could succeed without a great deal more understanding 
o the Iberian Catholic culture. 

As at most dances advertised as "semiformal," all 
degrees of formality in dress could be seen. There were 

213 



boys in everything from sport combinations to tails, with 
girls in every variation between a sweater and skirt and 
a strapless gown. The freshmen were easily recognizable 
by their name placards, which were to be discarded at 
midnight. At that time the most promising representative 
of each high school, chosen by Father Carmody, as he 
passed the orchestra stand, would hand in his card 
and come up to join in the Alma Mater song a tradi- 
tional rite symbolic of the new class's acceptance by the 
rest of the school. Until then the selections were a secret. 

Most of the first-year men, to whom evening clothes 
were still something of a novelty, wore tuxedos, and 
nearly all their dates were only too glad of the oppor- 
tunity to appear in floor-length gowns; but the Sem girls, 
who always managed to stand out from the rest, had 
evidently agreed on short dresses, the priest concluded, 
when Pat and Joe appeared with the check for his wraps. 

Despite a rather scrawny orchid apparently ordered 
by Joe without asking what she intended to wear, Pat 
looked as well turned out as usual, in a neatly tailored 
gray suit, with her turban, pumps, costume jewelry, and 
large, shoulder-strapped handbag all as vividly red as 
her lips and nails. Father Carmody was duly impressed. 

"Patricia Hartman," he beamed, "I hereby pick you 
for the St. Ignatius Prom Queen of 1942. Just you wait 
and see!" 

"Now, Father, none of your Irish blarney!" laughed Pat. 

"I just met Pete Murray in the line at the check room," 
Joe reported. "He says Paul is home with a sick headache." 

Pat snorted, but Father Carmody wondered if any of 
the triumph of her cocktail party and her appearance 
with Joe would be dulled by Paul's absence. Somehow he 

214 



could not quite believe that a girl like Pat would volun- 
tarily change from Paul to Joe. The latter s good qualities 
were not the kind that generally attracted teen-age girls 
to the extent of outweighing more obvious appeal. If he 
knew more about that situation, he might know more 
about the Murrays. So the priest speculated as the young 
couple went downstairs to dance. 

Presently amid the swirling crowd below he was able 
to pick out Peter and Janet, fox-trotting to the bouncing 
measures of Scatterbrain. Now that the novelty of jitter- 
bugging had worn off, its more violent forms were seldom 
seen at college dances indeed, they were hardly possible 
in evening clothes but the milder variations were still 
permissible. Joe, for instance, brows knit in deepest con- 
centration, was shagging away for dear life, though Pat 
followed him with utmost detachment Those like Joe 
who excelled at the fanciest steps, Russell had long since 
concluded, were seldom notably good at anything else. 

He preferred to follow the more graceful progress of 
his niece and Peter. Though lacking the imperturbable 
poise of a Sem girl, Janet seemed to him a very sweet 
child, and Peter, he felt sure tonight more than ever, 
easily made up in character whatever he might lack of 
PauTs surface charm. Yes, a perfectly natural boy-and- 
girl attraction, if ever he had seen one. Had he not been 
away from Lakeport so long or had he come to know Janet 
better since his return, he would never for a moment have 
been misled by Caroline's veiled hints about Peter's 
retarded social development. Indeed, although Caroline 
and Irma appeared to be the best of friends, the more 
he thought about it the more certain he became that 
the still missing motive behind Caroline's plans for Peter 

215 



might well be a desire to eliminate Janet in the most 
effective way possible. Why had not that occurred to him 
before? If this was not the exact explanation, it was very 
close to the truth, he felt sure. 

From their expressions it was impossible to tell whether 
or not the two were actually enjoying the dance, thought 
Russell, looking down at them Peter, blond and boyish 
in his tuxedo, Janet bewitchingly demure in a pink net 
gown, bustled in the current manner, with the rosebuds 
on her shoulder and the matching snood on her black 
hair carrying out the effect of old-fashioned charm. What 
were they talking about, the priest wondered. 

"Honestly, IVe seen just about every one I ever went 
to school with here tonight," said Janet, making conversa- 
tion. "I still haven't finished figuring out who came with 
whom and why," 

Peter was touched by her effort to behave as if they 
were enjoying themselves at an ordinary dance. 

"Whoever came with whom," he said, "they all seemed 
to stop at Pat Hartman's cocktail party, from what IVe 
heard. Paul and I must have been the only ones in Fresh- 
man Arts not invited." 

"You know why that is," said Janet promptly. "She's 
still stuck on Paul, and she's just being nasty about it." 

"I hope thafs all there is to it. If only I knew! That's 
the worst part. With everyone being so tactful, I can't 
tell how much anyone really believes or suspects/ 7 

"Maybe this afternoon I made it sound worse than 
it is," Janet suggested. "Just having to tell you got me 
all upset. Ill bet, after all, the whole thing will die 
down before you know it.** 

"Not before a lot of other people know it too," sighed 

216 



Peter. "But at least it's swell of you to stick by me, Jan." 

"Peter! Why wouldn't I? Don't you think I know how 
you've stuck to me against well, everything." 

"You mean my mother?" 

"Who else? I know she'd rather have you going with 
someone like Pat or Mimi. But I don't care, as long 
as I suit you." 

"Janet!" Peter pressed her closer. "You know you're 
tops with me. We've always been more than cousins." 

"They say we Mounties always get our man," said 
Janet with a tremulous little laugh, and changed the 
subject. "Did you notice the Sem girls tonight? The ones 
who aren't conspicuous enough with their short skirts 
are wearing those big Lilly Dache hats. Man Dieu, 
quel chicr 

Janet was Peter's only comfort in this unreal night- 
mare of all the dances he had ever attended. The same 
people he always saw were here, saying the same gay, 
meaningless things. But what lay behind all the bright 
chatter tonight? He hesitated to suggest trading dances 
even with his best friends, and those who suggested it 
themselves he suspected of merely showing their broad- 
mindedness. The comfortable aura of popularity in which 
Peter had moved since childhood was disturbed for the 
first time, and his self-confidence was tottering. 

Of course, his mother had been competent and kind 
enough in her way, and that was all that could be 
expected of Mrs. R. Emmett Murray, but even though 
next Sunday was not the regular one for a family supper, 
he and Paul planned to take their troubles to their grand- 
mother. She might not understand what it was all about, 
but somehow she was always a comfort even better than 

217 



Aunt Inna. Meanwhile, in spite of all Janet's determined 
cheerfulness he could not shake off his depression. 

His gloom was only increased by thoughts of Paul, 
sitting at home, forbidden to confide in his father and 
left with nothing to do but brood. It would have been 
better to come to the dance with anyone, just to ease the 
plunge Monday, to thicken his skin a little. Paul indeed 
was not so sensitive in most matters, but anything that 
so vitally involved the reputation he was building for 
himself at St. Ignatius touched him on the quick. Though 
Peter took less interest in school politics, he could under- 
stand his brother's ambitions, and the disastrous effect 
this sort of talk could have on them. No matter how 
completely cleared afterward, a name once smudged was 
fatal for one of Paul's inclinations. 

"This is going to be worse for Paul than it is for me," 
Peter confided to Janet, over Cokes in the hotel drugstore, 
after they had been unable to find seats in the crowded 
lounge bar. "He thought he, or maybe both of us, would 
be picked to represent St. Ignatius High in the freshman 
doings tonight." 

"Maybe you will yet," said Janet without much 
conviction. 

"Fine products of Jesuit training we'd look like, with 
all this talk going around! Itll probably be Joe Militello 
or someone like that. Anyway, we didn't polish the apple 
enough with Father Carmody, if you don't mind my say- 
ing that about your uncle." 

"I hardly know him. Monsignor seems a lot more like 
my real uncle. What's Father Carmody really like, 
anyway?" 

"Oh, he's all right, I guess," Peter conceded. "He just 

218 



seems to have vocations on the brain, though. Paul and 
I were out with him a couple of times, and the conversa- 
tion always got back to what a lot the Jesuits have to 
offer a fellow. So we decided to steer clear of him. You 
know the type." 

"Don't I ever, though! You should hear some of those 
nuns at the Mount Oh, look, Peter, it's nearly midnight. 
We might as well go back for the Grand March, shall we?" 

"Yes, I suppose so," Peter agreed, though the prospect 
was anything but appealing to him. They walked the 
length of the glittering lobby, which was thronged with 
couples from the dance, mostly streaming back toward 
the ballroom now, except for upperclassmen and alumni 
whom no freshman ceremonies could interest as much 
as the chance of a place in the bar. 

After much confusion, while the orchestra played a 
medley of popular college songs, the couples began to 
march around the floor led by the chairman of the 
dance, a Science student. The Science and Business men 
numerically dominated the class, Peter knew, but the 
offices they could gain were limited to such rare class 
affairs as this. The organizations were what counted in 
the student council, Paul always said, and only the Arts 
men had leisure enough to devote to these. 

During the second march around, by fours, Peter and 
Janet found themselves walking with Joe and Pat, who 
had been behind them. Taking Joe's left arm, Janet kept 
up an animated conversation, though Pat, as if to justify 
her failure to invite the Murrays to her party, limited 
herself to a distant smile. 

"Too bad you didn't know everyone else was coming 
formal tonight, Pat," Janet could not resist saying, but 

219 



Pat only raised her eyebrows and murmured, "It's really 
not sucli a treat when you're used to it." 

As they marched around by eights, Peter began to be 
thoroughly weary of the Alma Mater, blared by the 
orchestra, chorus after swung chorus. The pointed gaiety 
of the music was so out of tune with his own mood that 
he felt as if he never wanted to hear it again. This was 
the night to which he and Paul had so long looked for- 
ward their first college dance! What a letdown it must 
be for poor Janet, too, no matter how she kept up appear- 
ances. He could picture Paul's face when he told him 
whoever had been chosen to represent St. Ignatius High. 
They were being picked this time around. 

He pressed Janet's hand with nerveless fingers, steeling 
himself to see Joe Militello summoned by the smiling 
priest on the bandstand. Yes, there went two from the 
public high schools, now the one from the Christian 
Brothers' Institute, now was it possible! Peter saw that 
Father Carmody was looking past Joe, straight at him! 

"From St. Ignatius High School, Peter Murray." The 
words came dimly through the music. Dazed, he led Janet 
over to where the other girls stood, handed the priest his 
card, and joined the other boys in the space cleared on 
the orchestra platform. 

When all fourteen boys were assembled, Father Car- 
mody read out their names, their high schools, and the 
school activities in which they had already taken part. 
For the first time Peter felt a spark of personal liking for 
the man, not just the routine respect due all priests. 
Maybe he had picked him only for Janet's sake, or even 
just out of pity for what he was going through, but never- 
theless the unexpected honor seemed to make Peter 

220 



really belong at St. Ignatius again. Whatever was behind 
it, the gesture under the circumstances seemed a kind 
and warmhearted one, and made Peter wonder if he and 
Paul had been too quick to dismiss Father Carmod/s 
interest in them as mere desire to perpetuate the Order. 
As the band played the final chorus of the Alma Mater, 
Peter experienced his first real surge of school spirit. That 
was the only way he could describe this strange new 
feeling which he could not put into words or com- 
municate even to Paul. Small time and old fashioned it 
might be, but this was his college now. These new class- 
mates, almost strangers yet, would be his friends through 
the years to come in Lakeport. He realized that he no 
longer cared about not going to Georgetown, To his 
embarrassment, Peter could almost feel sentimental tears 
behind his eyelids as he joined the other freshmen 
singing: 

Then gather round and swell the sound, 
Our hearts with ardor light. . . . 

For the rest of the night, Peter almost enjoyed himself, 
aided by Janef s efforts to carry on as usual. Every word 
of friendly congratulation helped a little more to restore 
his emotional balance. By the time the orchestra leader 
had announced Stardust as the last dance of the evening, 
Peter felt nearly like himself. In the usual crush at the 
check room he even forced himself to ask Joe where he 
and Pat intended to go afterward, so that they might 
meet there. 

It was one of the all-night restaurants where everyone 
always went for a snack after a dance. While waiting for 
their orders, some couples, as if they had not danced 

221 



enough, waltzed idly about the deserted restaurant, to the 
music of the juke box the boys in their topcoats, most 
of the girls, like Janet, in black velvet evening wraps, 
some with kerchiefs tied peasant fashion around their 
heads. 

Joe, who had only tonight found out that Janet was 
Father Carmody's niece, seemed to take new interest 
in her on that account, Peter thought. Or possibly he was 
just being a good sport about not having been picked in 
Peter's place, as he certainly must have hoped. So even 
Joe had been indirectly hurt by the consequences of that 
mysterious rumor. Meanwhile Peter was left with Pat, 
whose evening, he suspected, had not turned out quite 
as she had planned. 

"Did you have a good time tonight?" he asked politely, 
as he swung her off to the plaintive accompaniment of 
What's New? 

"But perfect!" replied Pat automatically. "I don't know 
when I've been to such a smooth dance!" 

They danced in silence for a while, and then Pat asked, 
"Was Paul really sick tonight, Peter?" 

"You ought to know the answer to that, Pat/ 7 he said, 
remembering her scathing refusal of Paul. 

"You mean he couldn't get a date? Well, shet 
mah mouth!" 

"Are you surprised? Don't tell me you don't know why 
Mimi broke their date! Or aren't you still up on the 
latest dirt?" 

"Huh?" Pat thought a moment. "It couldn't have been 
no, I guess it couldn't." 

"What?" Peter prompted. 

"Oh, just some drivel I heard that sister of Joe's 

222 



babbling, about you and Paul and an emotional complex 
or something. I never gave it a second thought." 

"Well, a few other people did, including Mrs, Jordan, 
I guess. But you must know how it was for Mimi. She 
couldn't afford to be seen with Paul, and you couldn't 
afford to have us to your house, could you?" 

"Oh, Peter, is that what you thought?" Pat almost 
lost step. "No wonder things have been so strained 
all evening. Believe me, I hadn't even thought of that 
silly rumor since Sunday. If I'd had any idea, naturally 
I would have gone out of my way to invite you. The 
only reason I didn't in the first place was that I just 
didn't want to have Paul and Mimi." 

"But you knew since Wednesday he wasn't bring- 
ing her." 

"I was sure he'd get someone else. And after the 
things I said over the phone, I couldn't very well invite 
him. I was horrid, I know, but that excuse he cooked up 
was so obvious it was insulting. If Td known he wasn't 
coming, I would have loved to have you and Janet.** 

"Well, thanks just the same,** Peter smiled ruefully. 

"So now you know all. But please don't tell Paul every- 
thing!" Pat begged. "Hell think I'm just ready to come 
running, and I'm not the heart-on-the-sleeve type." 

Never before had Peter really understood the sophisti- 
cated Sem girl so different from Janet, and yet in her 
own way no less nice a person. Her explanation of the 
party all but removed the last of the weight that had 
oppressed him earlier in the evening. If Pat Hartman, 
with her grievance against Paul, could be a friend in 
need, then Peter felt that lie could rely on almost any- 
one he knew to disregard the gossip. 

223 



But when on his return home he found Paul still awake 
and tossing, he could no more convey his regained confi- 
dence than his new feeling toward St. Ignatius. Paul, who 
had discovered an account of Pat's party in an evening 
paper, refused to accept any explanation but his own. 

"Sure, Pat likes me!" he snarled bitterly. "She's crazy 
about me! Hell, yes, I could tell that from the way she 
talked on the phone the other day! It's no use, Pete. 
Anyone can make excuses afterward." 

"But, Paul, our real friends couldn't believe anything 
so crazy about us," Peter argued, "and as for anyone else, 
why should we give a hoot?" 

"You don't care about your reputation at school. I do! 
I had a future. I tell you, I can't go back there. 111 
transfer to Georgetown, Notre Dame, any place where 
I can make a fresh start!" 

"Let's wait and see what Father Carmody has to say," 
Peter suggested. "Maybe he's not such a bad guy, after 
all, picking me out tonight and everything." 

"Can't you see he was just making a point to show 
he doesn't care what people say about us? Anyway, that 
was you, Pete. Where does it leave me? Ill never be able 
to hold up my head at St. Ignatius again!" 



224 



Chapter 12 



FATHER CARMODY was spending a very long time 
upstairs with the boys, thought Caroline; she had told 
him he must be gone before Bob came home at noon. 
After an almost sleepless night her first in years she 
could scarcely even concentrate on the morning paper's 
list of those who had made reservations for tonight's 
Banquet For Britain. The front page pictured Sir Neville 
Boyce-Carewe's arrival at the airport, greeted by the 
officers of the Mayflower Club; George and Loretta had 
not bothered to join the reception committee. It was small 
comfort to find, opposite the classified ad page, an account 
of the dance, with a photo of Russell and the fourteen 
honored freshmen. 

In the long hours of the night she had begun to wonder 
if somehow she had made a fatal mistake in trying to 
use Russell for her purpose. He still seemed to be her 
evil genius. Of course, he probably had not foreseen the 
horrible way things would work out, and yet, it had all 
happened within the month since she had first consulted 
him. Yes, it was just a month from that Wednesday after- 
noon in Parlor A until yesterday Friday the thirteenth, 
aptly enough, she thought and already her well-ordered 
world was rocking as it never had before in all her years 
as Mrs, R. Emmett Murray. She still tried not to let her 
unreasoning fear of Russell get the best of her, but she 

225 



resolved to be very much on her guard with him from 
now on. Too bad she had even asked him here this 
morning; Monsignor would have done as well at the 
moment. 

She jumped when the telephone rang. But it was 
only Irma. 

"Well, I guess the kids had a pretty good time at the 
dance, after all, didn't they?" she rattled on. "I do think 
it was funny Loretta didn't make Pat ask them to her 
party, but you know Loretta! I was talking to her this 
morning, and she said she was surprised to hear Paul 
wasn't at the dance. It seems Mrs. Jordan met her at 
the concert Monday night and was asking her if you- 
know-what was true about the twins. Of course, Loretta 
went to bat for them as strong as she could, so she says 
Miriam must have been just looking for a chance to 
break up Mimi and Paul/* 

"Perhaps." Caroline forced the word out. "Well, un- 
doubtedly the worst of this whole wretched business is 
past by this time. Father Cannody's upstairs now, trying 
to straighten out the boys." 

"Oh, that's good. Janet says he was very nice to Peter 
last night." 

"Of course, what they didn't know might never have 
hurt them," Caroline said coldly, "if Janet hadn't blurted 
the whole thing out in that hysterical way yesterday." 

"I made her do that, Carrie, and I still think it was 
better for them to hear it that way than from some out- 
sider. You know Janet wouldn't hurt Peter for the world! 
She's just going downtown now. Pat asked her to have 
lunch with her, to talk over the dance to explain, 
I suppose. . . . " 

226 



Irma chattered on for several minutes more, but Caro- 
line was left with nothing but the cold, implacable 
certainty that Mimi had indeed broken the date for the 
very reason Janet had guessed. Everyone in Lakeport 
must have heard that ghastly rumor in some form if even 
Miriam Jordan knew of it, she thought helplessly. But 
since apparently no one believed it, perhaps no lasting 
harm would be done. It was certainly distressing at 
present, but its ultimate effects, after all, might work out 
for the best, Caroline tried to persuade herself. 

It was at least possible now that the bond thus estab- 
lished between Russell and Peter might well lead the boy 
at last to consider a religious life, especially if Janet's 
impulsive way of breaking the news could be made to 
appear inexcusably tactless and unnecessary a mere 
occasion to display her own "loyalty," which would have 
been far better proved if she had simply gone to the 
dance without saying anything* Yes, that argument might 
very well serve as an opening wedge to pry Peter's interest 
from its unworthy object and slant it in the proper 
direction. 

To be sure, the circumstances might not be all Caroline 
could have wished, but in the long run no one would 
remember that. Secular priests and even some orders might 
seem rather common to the better class of non-Catholics, 
but the Jesuits had earned world-wide respect. Yes, 
indeed, Peter as a difficult schoolboy was one thing, 
but as a member of the Society of Jesus was quite 
another. . . . 

When Russell came downstairs, alone, his expression 
was extremely troubled. 

"Caroline," he said, "something most unexpected has 

227 



happened, something that will shock you even more 
than me. You may have a son in the Jesuits, after all." 

"Oh 3 Father!" Now that the moment had come so 
soon, Caroline was suddenly near to tears, partially of 
relief and partially regret. She had not been prepared 
for such immediate results. God was on her side, after 
all! "To think it took this terrible thing to open poor 
Peter's eyes!" 

Russell sat down in a chair opposite hers. 

"I said you'd be shocked. It's not Peter, Caroline, it's 
Paul." 

"Pauir Caroline almost shrieked. She half rose from her 
chair, and then sank back, stunned. Inane sentences like 
"You must be joking" rose to her lips, but she knew that 
this was no joke. This unbelievable moment was the one 
she had been unconsciously dreading ever since last June. 
This was the meaning of her intuitive distrust of Russell, 
that instinctive warning she had blindly disregarded in 
recent months. This was the terrible thing she had known 
Russell would do to her one day. 

"Russell," she whispered hoarsely, "what have you 
done? How did you ever make my Paul " 

"Get hold of yourself, Caroline!" said Russell sternly. "I 
think it's time you and I had a few things out, quite 
calmly and reasonably, if possible. Do you mind if I 
smoke?" 

She glared at him, but he took out a pack of cigarettes, 
made the gesture of offering her one and then lit his own, 
as if settling down for a comfortable chat. Caroline could 
have killed him at that moment. 

"First of all," he began, "what makes you think the 
Jesuits would accept your precious Paul? Religious orders 

228 



were never intended as a refuge for those who can't face 
the problems of life in the world. There's no sacrifice in 
giving up something you don't want, anyway." 

"But you just said " 

"I'm sorry if I made it sound more definite than it is. 
But it is interesting to see how much remains of that 
noble, sacrificial attitude you were so willing to take about 
Peter." 

"You mean Paul's not going?" Caroline felt as if Russell 
were playing some kind of game with her, but she was 
too confused to anticipate the next move. 

"I didn't say that either. As a matter of fact, of course, 
leaving Lakeport at this time is the worst possible thing 
he could do. People would surely take it as a confirmation 
of that rumor. I kept trying to tell Paul that, and so did 
Peter, but nothing we could say could dissuade him/* 

"I don't believe you," said Caroline flatly, from convic- 
tion that was deeper than reason. "You're just saying that 
now. You must have talked him into it." 

"So help me, Caroline, I've spent the past two hours 
trying to talk him out of it! You can ask either of the 
boys " 

"Oh, naturally, you'd do it in such a way that they 
wouldn't even realize, poor darlings. What match are they 
for a Jesuit like you? No, it's too perfect, Russell. You 
knew I had my heart set on seeing Peter a priest, so now 
you've taken Paul instead. Do you think I don't see that?" 

Russell's jaw tightened. "My dear woman! You sound 
beside yourself, but I hope you're capable of believing 
that whatever I think of you, it would never poison my 
attitude toward those two boys!'* 

Caroline no longer even cared what she said. She had 

229 



the helpless feeling that she was flailing wildly about her 
with a clumsy bludgeon instead of her usual deadly 
rapier, in this most dangerous duel of her life. Groping 
for any weapon to beat down Russell's cool, maddening 
logic, she hurled charges at fast as they welled up in her 
mind. 

"Don't think you can put me in the wrong this time, 
Russell Carmody!" she stormed. "It's you who are respon- 
sible for this whole monstrous business! You started that 
horrible report about the boys, and I don't doubt that you 
spread it, too! You probably planned the whole thing to 
work out this way all to punish me for something that 
happened twenty years ago!" 

Instead of losing his temper completely, Russell only 
continued to look at her with that penetrating gaze that 
made her feel as if he were looking into the inmost re- 
cesses of her soul and uncovering things she did not admit 
even to herself. 

"Come now, Caroline/' he said. "Don't add delusions of 
persecution to your other psychological quirks! You must 
know that nothing you could say could reproach me any 
more bitterly than I've been reproaching myself for my 
part in this, unintentional as it was. Let's not forget, I 
was brought into it in the first place only to play your 
game. This whole tissue of lies that's caused so much 
trouble ultimately goes back to you and what you tried to 
do to Peter." 

Caroline kept her hands tightly clenched in her lap 
until they stopped trembling and she could speak with 
some measure of calm. She saw that Russell would not 
be goaded into an angry scene that would leave her with 
the upper hand. Perhaps the wisest course would be to 

230 



throw herself on his mercy outwardly, at least before 
his line of reasoning reached conclusions she had no wish 
to hear* 

"That's not fair to me, Father. You and I have both 
made our mistakes, no doubt, but, after all, we were 
both working toward the same end, weren't we? We 
both had only Peter's own good at heart" 

"You can skip that approach, too," said Russell, quite 
unimpressed. "I happen to know whose good you had at 
heart. It took me a long time too long but I think 
I finally fit the pieces together. Peter wasn't growing up 
like Paul, into a clever young social climber a junior 
edition of Bert Jordan, in short. One of his chief draw- 
backs was Janet, but being right in the family, she couldn't 
be eliminated and forgotten, like another girl So some- 
thing else had to be done about Peter, and what could 
be nicer and sweeter and holier than making a priest 
out of him? The next thing was to " 

"Stop it! It wasn't like that at all. It's just you and your 
horrible way of putting things!" Alarmed by the amount 
he knew and especially by the reference to Bert Jordan, 
Caroline tried diverting his line of attack. "Of course, I 
wanted Peter to make more of himself socially, and when 
he didn't, I just naturally got the idea he'd make a good 
priest. I thought you understood that at the time. But 
that still doesn't explain how you could do such a thing 
to Paul. He's always been so popular " 

"He's always been the weaker of the two, Caroline. 
Peter said that after the dance last night he could face 
anything, but aU Paul could think was his blighted 
future at St. Ignatius. He has everything of yours but 
your strength. Didn't you even see that?" 

231 



"I never thought of it that way. I only know Peter's 
always been more stubborn." 

"The one trait he inherits from you," said Russell. 
"Peter knows what he wants; Paul doesn't, especially 
right now. He's so desperate to regain some respect, as 
he thinks, at school that the Order seems the best way 
out for him. Of course, such an emotionally unstable boy 
has no place in the Jesuits, but " 

"But where did he ever get such an idea?" Caroline 
broke in. 

"Indirectly from you, through me. This morning he 
kept quoting my own words back at me, about the peace 
and dignity of the life and so on all the things I ever 
said for Peter's benefit when I was with the two of 
them." 

"That's all very well, Russell, and what you say may be 
true, but I'll solve the whole difficulty for you and the 
Order. I'm simply not going to let Paul go, and that's 
all there is to it" 

"In other words, you're as determined now to keep 
Paul out of the priesthood as you were to get Peter into 
it without in either case consulting the person most 
concerned. Just who do you think you are, Caroline, God 
Almighty?" 

"Well, what did you expect me to do? You said 
yourself Paul's decision can't be sincere. Why are you 
so anxious to keep me out of it? He's my own son " 

"It's time he learned to take the consequences of his 
own mistakes, Caroline. Let him go through the motions 
of trying to join the Jesuits and find out for himself that 
he can't do it, that there's not always an easy way out of 
anything for Paul Murray. I told him this whole un- 

232 



founded idea would be forgotten in no time, but he's 
built it up so in his own mind that if you make him go 
right back to St. Ignatius Monday he'll always blame 
every failure there on this one false rumor. Then hell 
be sure it would have been better to go away as he 
wanted. The one way to prove him wrong is to let 
him try." 

"But I don't understand," Caroline had a mental 
picture of an iron door clanging shut upon Paul forever, 
"If he once went, how would I know he'd ever come 
back? There'd be such difficulties " 

"Good Lord, Caroline!" Russell permitted himself to 
smile for the first time this morning. "Did you get your 
conception of the Jesuits from some Gothic novel? You 
must think we get paid a bounty on every new prospect 
trapped! Was that why you were so sure I'd play along 
with you about Peter, regardless of his feelings?" 

'"We're not talking about Peter now!" 

"To get back to Paul, then. I'm sure he won't get even 
as far as a novitiate house. But if you let him stay home 
from school and go through all the preliminary red tape 
of making application for the Order, in another week or 
two long before it would be time to leave he'll be so 
glad to get back to St. Ignatius on any terms that hell 
think twice before he makes any more rash decisions for 
the sake of his 'prestige.' " 

That sounded reasonable enough, but Caroline would 
not let herself be convinced. Russell must have some trick 
up his sleeve. After all, it could not be without reason 
that the word "Jesuitical" had come to mean all that was 
sly and double-dealing. But she could be as subtle as 
any man alive, Caroline told herself. If she could only 

253 



get rid of Russell amicably now, she would soon put an 
end to Paul's dangerous intention. 

"I'm afraid you're leaning over backward in being fair 
to Peter, Father," she said conversationally. "Don't you 
think you're being too hard on poor Paul?" 

"Not at all. He's been hopelessly spoiled by everyone 
even by Peter, good kid that he is but especially 
by you." 

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. But you must admit he has 
the more winning personality of the two. Everyone 
says so." 

"Only because he feels compelled to impress everyone 
with his charm. Deep down, perhaps only subconsciously, 
he knows Peter has more ability in ways that count, but 
he's got to keep people from finding that out. That's why 
he feels such a continuous thirst for more popularity, 
more publicity at school, more new social conquests." 

"How dreadful you can make anything sound!" ex- 
claimed Caroline. 

"Ah, I thought you'd see the parallel," said Russell, 
almost before she had applied the words to herself. "You 
see, Caroline, Paul is always compensating for a deep- 
seated inferiority complex, and that's what makes him 
so much like you." 

"Please, Father Russell, no sermons!" More than any- 
thing else, she wanted to divert his power of merciless 
analysis from her. "I've heard enough of them this week 
at the novena." 

'Tm speaking as a psychologist now, not as a priest. 
Whether you know it or not, Caroline, most of your life 
you've had a most acute inferiority complex about your 
religion." 

234 



"My religion?" Caroline was surprised. "What a thing 
to say! When I've always been so proud " 

"Too proud. It's not normal. And I can tell you what 
made you that way, too." 

"I don't want to hear any more!" Caroline protested, 
subtlety abandoned in her compulsion to head off this 
conversation before it got any further. "If I needed a 
psychoanalyst, I could afford to go to a professional!" 

"He'd only tell you the same thing, but more brutally. 
It would take him the first dozen sessions to find out as 
much about your past life as I already know. And when 
it was all over, he'd make you face the same basic fact: 
for over twenty years now youVe been compensating for 
what Bert Jordan did to you." 

"How dare you!" Caroline stood up, her eyes narrowed 
to slits behind their pince-nez. "Priest or no priest, 
Russell Carmody, you have no right to say such a thing! 
That man's name has never even been mentioned in 
this house!" 

"Ah, but it's been thought of dreamed of, too. The 
one and only Prince Charming, lost not because you 
weren't beautiful or clever or rich enough but because 
your religion kept you out of the society he wanted to 
marry into the society youVe been trying to get into 
ever since." 

"Stop it, stop itr Caroline tried her old trick of seizing 
the offensive. "YouVe just trying to make me forget 
what youVe done to Paul!" 

"What Paul does is relatively unimportant. But if you 
let me handle it my way, it may at least give him some 
sense of responsibility. Td like to save him from turning 
out entirely like Bert Jordan." 

235 



"Will you stop harping on him! I asked you over here 
today to help the boys, not to talk about me!" 

"Caroline, Caroline, how can I make you see before 
it's too late?" Russell shook his head. "None of this 
trouble would have started if you weren't the kind of 
person you are. It's all a part of the same warped pattern 
you've made of your life. I happen to be the only one 
who knows how it all fits in. Believe me, if I've been 
overfrank, it's only to shock you into a normal Catholic 
sense of values." 

"I think I can judge myself quite well without any help 
from you!" Caroline refused to be conciliated; his attitude 
was really unforgivable. 

"Perhaps you don't even realize how far you've gone. 
I've met your type so often before not only among 
Catholics, thank God. Madam President the Great 
American Clubwoman! Too busy giving lectures on home- 
making to pay attention to your own family!" 

"That," said Caroline, with dignity, "is a nice way 
for a priest to talk about Catholic Action, I must say! 
There's nothing I've done that isn't fit to print in the 
Catholic Heraldl" 

"Exactly. And if it wasn't printed, you wouldn't have 
done it. There's a line from T. S. Eliot that always reminds 
me of you, Caroline something like 'The only sin is to 
do the right thing for the wrong reason.' That was really 
the theme of my discourse last night though I don't 
flatter myself that it did you any good." 

"It's past eleven already. I told you you'd have to leave 
before noon," said Caroline, as a last resort. 

"I won't stay one minute longer than necessary." 
Russell's manner was still unruffled. "But I must keep you 

236 



from doing any more harm than youVe done already. 
When I think of all you must have sacrificed, just to make 
yourself into a reasonably exact facsimile of those faded 
butterflies like Miriam Jordanl Why not let yourself be 
what God and nature intended, a good wife and mother, 
like Irma, for instance?" 

"Irma?" Caroline laughed bitterly. "Why aren't you 
just a nice, simple parish priest, like Monsignor, for 
instance?" 

"All right, then." Russell conceded the point. "Let's 
take Loretta. She's no fool, and she's no simple housewife 
either, as you probably consider Irma. She's enjoyed 
George's position, she makes the most of her clubs and 
her social interests, but she sees all those things in their 
proper perspective. Fine, harmless things in themselves, 
but not the most important things in life." 

"Well, what if they are important to me? You're not 
living in the world. You don't know what it means to 
be kept out of what you want most what you've every 
right to!" 

"Let's not talk about rights. YouVe always had so much 
more than most women would consider their right 
plenty of money, this beautiful home, two fine sons, a 
husband who evidently worships you " 

Caroline cut him short. "Oh, I know, I know!" Nothing 
irritated her more than being told how lucky she was, 
unless it was by someone she knew envied her. "I 
appreciate all that, but I want to get the most out of it. 
Once Bob is elected, 111 be satisfied. Then perhaps I'll 
think about what you've been telling me." 

"All right, Caroline, 111 say no more." With a weary 
shrug, Russell stood up. "I can see this was a complete 

237 



waste of time. But don't expect the election to change 
you. You'll never have what you want because youll 
never want what you have.'' 

Caroline forgot everything else in a surge of relief that 
he was going at last. But after all, since they would have 
to continue seeing each other at the parents' meetings and 
perhaps in other connections around the city, for the 
sake of diplomacy she decided to make a strategic retreat. 

"Perhaps you're right, Father," she said, resuming the 
gracious mask of Mrs. R. Emmett Murray. "I'm afraid the 
shock of so much happening at once upset me rather 
badly this morning. In the heat of the moment, I'm sure 
we both said a lot of things we didn't mean." 

"Did we?" said the priest. "In any case, Caroline, think 
over what I said about Paul and forget your plans for 
Peter. No more tricks, please, and no big, maternal scenes. 
Paul will come out of this much more of a man, if you'll 
just trust me." 

When he had gone, Caroline sat very still, staring 
blindly at the design in the blue rug at her feet. She 
knew that every bitter word had been meant as nothing 
between them had been since that faraway night she 
had told him of her engagement. Echoes of the shattering 
conversation would haunt this room forever, she feared. 
The furniture must be altogether rearranged as soon 
as possible. That chair where Russell had sat would be 
nice, re-covered, in the boys' room. In its present place 
she would never be able to pass it without seeing him 
there, his keen face earnest, his dark eyes fixed accusingly 
on her. 

As she heard the boys coming downstairs, feelings of 
motherly concern returned. 

238 



"We just saw Father Cannody leave," Peter explained. 
"He told us not to come down until he was gone." 

"Well, Mother, what do you think?" asked Paul rather 
nervously, sitting down beside her on the davenport. 

"Oh, Paul, how can you be sure?" She gazed at him 
with tearful eyes. Somehow all her arguments about the 
joys of the religious life seemed to vanish when applied, 
even hypothetically, to Paul. 

"I'm as sure as anyone is of anything these days," said 
Paul. "Grandpa always hoped there'd be another priest 
in the family, like Monsignor, you know." 

"And you always said you'd never stand in the way 
if either of us had a vocation," Peter reminded her. 

"I didn't know it would be like this," sighed Caroline. 
Indeed, she decided, this was really too much to bear. 
No matter what Russell said, she would find a way to 
change Paul's mind herself. The idea of a hostage to God 
no longer appealed to her. The election was almost a sure 
thing, and, after the novena and all, surely she had 
undergone enough to satisfy the most exacting Justice. 
Her disappointment over the banquet, too, still rankled. 
Something had to come out her way! 

When Bob arrived home from the city hall a little 
later, the other three were still sitting in the living room. 

"Oh, Bob!" Caroline greeted him, bravely but obviously 
fighting back the tears. "You don't know what a terrible 
thing has happened! Our Paul wants to go off and 
become a Jesuit!" 

"Paul? A Jesuit?" Bob looked more worn than ever as 
he sank into a chair, taking in the incredible words. 
''When did all this happen? Isn't that a very hasty 
decision, son?" 

239 



"No, Dad, really, I've been thinking about it for some 
time, and I think I've considered all the angles. Tve had 
a lot of time to think this week." 

"Now, Paul, surely your disappointment last night has 
nothing to do with this?" 

"Of course not, Dad. It's not that at all." Paul stopped 
as he caught his mother's warning glance. 

"It's that hateful Father Carmody who's talked him 
into this/' Caroline put in ? before Bob could ask any 
more. "Those Jesuits stop at nothing to get new recruits. 
It wasn't till he ? d talked to him this morning that Paul 
got this absurd notion." 

"Oh, were you over to school this morning?" asked Bob. 

"No, Father Carmody was here," said Peter. "But 
honestly, Dad, he didn't * 

"Yes, he wanted to sep the boys about something or 
other/' Caroline silenced Peter with a look. "He's kept 
after them ever since they started college to get one 
of them into the Order if not both." 

"Well, it all seems much too sudden to me," Bob 
observed. "Why not think it over for the rest of the 
school year, at least, Paul? The Order will still be open, 
and you'll know your own mind better by then. You 
want to be very sure about a thing like that." 

"I am sure. I want to go now!" Paul insisted. 

Caroline seized her opportunity. "I think you're per- 
fectly right, Bob. You can just tell Father Carmody or any- 
one else, Paul, that your father absolutely forbids you to 
leave before the end of the year." 

"Aw, Mother, you know how it is!" Paul pleaded help- 
lessly. But Caroline made no reply. She hated to refuse 
him anything, but it was for his own sake that she would 

240 



not risk letting him be maneuvered into the Jesuits. What 
if by some chance he were accepted and he did find the 
life to his liking? 

When Bob spoke of taking a nap, so as to be fresh 
for the rally, Caroline was quick to encourage the idea, 
still fearful lest any slip reveal all that lay behind Paul's 
decision. Suspending active opposition for the present, 
she occupied herself with her scrapbook, while the boys 
listened to the broadcast of a Notre Dame game. In- 
wardly, however, Caroline was busily considering plans 
to cure Paul of the religious idea at once. She must get 
the best of Russell, after that unspeakable scene this 
morning. As the immediate sting of his words died away, 
she began to tell herself that after all, though couched 
in elaborate psychological terms, it was no more than 
he had said to her twenty years ago. She had dismissed 
his false charges then, and she would again. 

Lifelong compensation, indeed! Caroline could make 
out just as convincing a case against him. What was his 
unjustified hatred of her if not a compensation for her 
youthful wound to his pride? Yes, that was why he seized 
every chance to insult her, she assured herself, well satis- 
fied with this comforting explanation. Too bad she had 
not thought to tell him that. A nasty weapon but one she 
would not hesitate to use if he provoked an all-out battle 
over Paul. Of course, it probably would not be necessary. 
When Paul turned up in school Monday, Reverend Rus- 
sell Carmody, S.J., would know that in Mrs. R. Emmett 
Murray he had met his match. 

"What do you make of this Jesuit idea of Paul's?" 
asked Bob later, as they drove down the west side 
toward Militellos*. 

241 



"Oh, just some nonsense hell get over/' said Caroline 
easily. "I can remember when I was bound and deter- 
mined to join the convent. If the family hadn't talked me 
out of it, where would I be now?" 

"You'd be Mother General of some order/' Bob 
chuckled. "But if Paul persists, though, I suppose well 
have to let him try it, at least. Opposition will only make 
him feel martyred." 

"Perhaps when you're elected mayor, hell be enjoying 
himself too much to care about the Order anymore." 
Caroline knew that if she could talk Paul into waiting 
that long, the problem would solve itself. 

"Election is still nearly a month away," sighed Bob. 
"Afterward, I'd like to take at least a month off from 
everything to rest up. Maybe we could take a little 
trip somewhere/ 7 

"We'll see, dear," said Caroline noncommittally. She 
felt that the fruits of victory in Lakeport could not be 
tasted too soon. "After it's all over, you'll be so glad 
you ran. So will the boys." 

"And so will you!" laughed Bob. "Then you can start 
playing First Lady of Lakeport." 

Caroline joined in his laughter, owning the soft 
impeachment. 

"Those things mean a great deal to you, don't they?" 
Bob smiled indulgently. "I guess you wouldn't be Caroline 
if they didn't" 

"I wish you'd thought of that earlier in the week!" 
Caroline was sharply reminded of the banquet. "When 
I think of what I'm missing tonight for the Militellos!" 

With a tact that surprised Caroline, the five younger 
Militello children had evidently been given their dinner 

242 



earlier and sent upstairs; only Joe and Rita joined their 
parents in welcoming the Murrays. The house impressed 
Caroline as an interior decorator's nightmare. Originally 
furnished in the worst possible taste of the last war 
period, since then it seemed to have undergone every- 
thing one could expect from such a vulgarly large family, 
she thought, taking in at one incredulous glance the 
overstuffed mohair living-room suite, the silk-shaded 
mahogany floor lamps, the artificial flowers in cut glass 
vases, the cheap prints of religious paintings, and other 
touches that looked to be right out of a mail-order catalog 
of twenty years ago. 

When the six of them sat down at the round, golden 
oak dining-room table, Caroline was startled to find 
that her hosts still said grace before meals and ap- 
parently not just in front of company. She was afraid 
that conversation was going to follow the double 
standard, for instead of alternating sexes, Mrs. Militello 
had placed Rita between herself and Caroline, and Joe 
between his father and Bob. Thus, though she sat at 
Dr. Militello's right, as Bob did at Mrs. Militello's, 
Caroline could see how table talk might easily break 
into two parts, with the men talking politics while she 
was drawn into obvious agreements with her hostess 
about children, cooking, and their few common 
acquaintances. Really, thought Caroline, the things I 
do for Bob! 

However, while Rita brought in the steaming dishes 
of completely American food and her father filled each 
plate in turn, conversation naturally remained general. 

"We missed Paul at the dance last night/' said Joe. 
"How is he today? He's not still sick, is he, Dr. Murray?'* 

243 



Joe was just naive enough to have swallowed that 
excuse about the headache, Caroline knew. 

"Sick?" Bob echoed. "Oh, no, he's all right. But you 
may not be seeing him for a while, anyway, Joe. Believe 
it or not, Paul's thinking of joining the Jesuits." 

Caroline was not quite near enough to kick Bob's shin 
under the table, but she favored him with a poisonously 
sweet smile as she broke through the surprised exclama- 
tions of the Militellos. Did Bob never know enough to 
keep his mouth shut? 

"Oh, now, dear, it's not as definite as all that!" She 
turned to Mrs. Militello. "You know how it is. Every boy 
who goes to a Catholic school thinks he has a vocation 
at one time or another, but I'm sure Paul will get over 
it in no time." 

"He sounded pretty definite about it today," said Bob. 

This would never do, Caroline saw. Better far to let 
the conversation break up, after all, than follow its 
present trend. If Joe should guess Paul's reason and 
Bob found out . . . ! 

"But, of course, it's Bob's future we're most concerned 
about right now," she confided to the Militellos. "He's so 
anxious to know what the people on the west side want, 
aren't you, dear?" 

Bob took his cue. "I certainly am. And whatever they 
want, I'm sure we can give it to them better than the 
Republicans." 

"Well, one thing I can tell you," Dr. Militello began. 
Joe was listening attentively; so, satisfied that she had 
launched a discussion along the proper lines, Caroline 
proceeded to take over her side of the table. So far Rita 
had hardly said a word; she was probably biting off her 

244 



tongue to keep from saying the wrong thing, or perhaps 
sheer nervousness for once overcame even her desire 
to talk. 

Undoubtedly the presence of Mrs. R. Emmett Murray 
as a dinner guest was a major event in Rita's drab little 
life, Caroline thought, recalling her goggle-eyed awe the 
day of the interview. The poor thing would probably be 
quoting her for weeks to come. Caroline was not one to 
disappoint such a receptive audience. With many a fond 
reference to Monsignor and cozy anecdote of the bishop, 
she succeeded in making Catholic society sound as 
glamorous as Rita could have imagined; she only wished 
it seemed that way to her. 

In the midst of an account of how she had been 
persuaded to organize the Lakeport Trinity Alumnae, 
the telephone began to ring. All her suppressed energy 
released in one burst, Rita nearly overturned her chair 
in a mad scramble to reach the phone, even though it was 
only in the adjoining hall. Caroline went on with her story, 
but it was impossible not to overhear most of Rita's 
conversation. Her end of it seemed to consist largely 
of crushing retorts such as "Oh, yeah?" "Says you!" and 
"A lot you know, Nick Antonucci!" 

That name sounded vaguely familiar to Caroline, but 
she made no effort to place it. 

"Oh, I never did!" came Rita's voice from the hall. 
"You did not! . . . What a lie! . . . No, they're not 
either! . . . One of them's going away to be a priest, 
so therel . . . Never mind how! ... Go ahead, then, 
see if I care!" 

Caroline was alarmed by the obvious reference to 
Paul. If word of his intentions spread now, it would only 

245 



revive the rumor with new strength. He really must go 
back to school Monday! Oh, damn that big-mouthed girl, 
thought Caroline helplessly. And damn Bob for letting the 
thing out at all. And especially double damn Russell for 
starting this whole embarrassing business! She would fix 
him for this if it was the last thing she did. 

Rita returned to the table, flushed with a feeling of 
her power over men. 

"That was my boy friend/' she announced to Caroline. 
"He's halfback on die St. Ignatius team. He wanted me 
to go out tonight, but I wouldn't! We had a fight last 
Saturday, and he's gonna do a whole lot more crawling 
before I take him back. A girl's got to play hard to 
get sometimes." 

Rita seemed about as hard to get as a head cold, 
thought Caroline, but she exchanged a tolerant, older 
generation smile with Mrs. Militello. Thank God, it was 
time for the dessert now. Another few minutes and this 
ordeal would be over. 

"My, that was really a delicious dinner," she said when 
they had finished, with a little too much surprise in 
her voice. 

"What did you expect, spaghetti and garlic?" The 
doctor's resentment was not entirely concealed by his 
social laugh, No matter how clever he was, Caroline would 
not stand his brusque, chip-on-the-shoulder manner, and 
she had a suspicion that he cordially returned her dislike. 
Doubtless he was taking out on her his resentment of 
his own wife by comparison, she always told herself. He 
could have gone so much further with a more capable, 
less family-tied woman to guide him. 

The rally was to start at eight; so, little time was spent 

246 



over coffee in the living room. Joe and Rita soon dis- 
appeared upstairs, while their mother settled down for 
an evening at home. She would probably have no idea 
what the political speeches were all about, anyway, 
thought Caroline, as she thanked her profusely for the 
dinner and promised to come again when she could 
stay longer. 

Loretta and Irma no longer bothered coming to hear 
their husbands speak, but Caroline still enjoyed the 
novelty of a place on the speakers' platform as the wife 
of the Democratic candidate for mayor. As she walked 
up the aisle of Garibaldi Hall between the two men, 
while a particularly tinny band dinned There'll Be a Hat 
Time in the Old Town Tonight, she heard Dr. Militello 
mutter, "There's too many of these young Republican 
turncoats here tonight! I hope they don't make any 
trouble." 

When they were seated beneath the large American 
flag, Caroline saw what he meant, as here and there 
in the audience she could pick out young Italians of 
the corner lounger type, obviously looking for excitement. 

"That big bruiser in the first row there is Nick Anto- 
nucci, the football player, that Rita was talking to," Dr. 
Militello told her. "He's certainly got it in his nose for the 
administration for some reason even fought with Rita 
about it." 

"Oh, really?" The young man looked as if he had 
broken the training ban on liquor, thought Caroline. 
Now she recalled where she had heard his name before. 
Of course. That family who had so boldly applied to 
Catholic Charities for relief. If Nick was still in school, 
they must have succeeded in making some other arrange- 

247 



ments, but at least they were not squandering the 
diocesan funds. 

There was respectful applause when the presiding 
ward supervisor introduced the mayor, and more for the 
two Italian councilmen. After the long and impassioned 
appeals of the latter pair, an intermission was deemed 
necessary to relieve the intellectual strain of the audience, 
and everyone was urged to join in the band's rendition of 
Let Me Call 'You Sweetheart and other old favorites, with 
the aid of words supplied in booklets of party advertising. 
Caroline noticed that the Antonucci youth remained 
grimly silent throughout. 

Such a haze of smoke now filled the air that she could 
hardly read the farthest "Murray For Mayor" banners. 
Mentally she was contrasting this coarse, common crowd 
with the white-tied and smartly gowned gathering that 
was even now drinking in the well-chosen words of Sir 
Neville Boyce-Carewe. Politics or no politics, such a 
conflict of dates must never arise again. She would make 
that quite clear to Bob on the way home. She had a bone 
to pick with him, too, about that indiscreet mention 
of Paul's notion. 

When the speeches began again, there was a thunder- 
ing ovation for Dr. Militello, accompanied by much 
stamping, whistling, and catcalling of a good-natured 
sort. Probably because of the doctor's warm introduction, 
Bob also received a hearty hand. Caroline felt encouraged 
anew as she heard her husband repeat with obvious 
sincerity his pledge to serve the city as faithfully in 
the mayor's office as he had in the health department. 
He pointed out that in the absence of any real platform 
the Republicans were doing their best to stir up Old 

248 



World issues of nationalities though actually the more 
recently immigrated Americans had only to look at the 
record to know who their real friends were. After making 
a specially well-received point, Bob would turn a little 
to receive an encouraging smile from Caroline. 

When he had finished without noticeable interruption, 
Caroline breathed a sigh of relief. Now the floor was 
open for questions, and Bob was flooded with them, some 
in broken English, about new schools for the Italian 
section and other matters of local interest. When one or 
two of the poolroom politicans tried to upset him with 
foolish questions, he quickly turned the joke against them. 

"Will that be all?" he said at last, when he had an- 
swered each inquiry as clearly as possible. 

"No, that won't be all!" Nick Antonucci, who had 
evidently been screwing his courage to the sticking point, 
lurched to his feet. Caroline felt a sick apprehension at 
the look on his thick-featured face. 

"What would you like to know?" asked Bob pleasantly, 
ignoring the deliberately insolent tone. 

"I'd like to know what you got to say about them 
precious twins of yours, that's what!" roared Antonucci. 
"Why don'tcha tell us why they gotta be separated?** 

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." 
Pale and dismayed, Bob glanced around at Caroline in 
consternation; he guessed, she realized with alarm, that 
she had been keeping something important from him. 

'Well, if you don't you're the only one in Lakeport that 
don't!" Antonucci shouted. "All the Republicans from the 
top on down are on to them two punks! They're so stuck 
on each other now ya gotta send one of them away! 
Deny that!" 

249 



Before lie had uttered the last words, Bob had leaped 
down from the platform and was striding toward him, 
fists clenched. 

"No, Bob!" Caroline heard herself scream, as the 
football player began, "Now, Doc, you don't wanna get 
yourself all mussed up " 

"You'll take back every filthy word you said!" Bob cried 
hoarsely, as his right fist sent Antonucci sprawling back 
over the seats. He made another lunge, and then quite 
suddenly he himself crumpled to the floor. 

A cry went up from the audience. Caroline rushed down 
from the platform and pushed her way through the crowd 
to Bob's side, but Dr. Militello was there before her. 

"His heart, his heart!" she was whimpering wildly. The 
doctor leaned over the prostrate figure. When he raised 
his eyes, one look told Caroline that it was already 
too late. 



250 



Chapter 13 



EVERY word of Monsignor's funeral sermon twisted the 
knife in Caroline's heart. As she sat between the boys, 
all in deepest mourning, in the front pew of St. Vincent's 
Cathedral offered by the bishop himself for the solemn 
high Requiem Mass she could still scarcely believe that 
it was indeed Bob who lay inside that black and silver 
casket in the middle aisle Bob, who only a week ago 
today had been persuading her not to attend that banquet; 
Bob, whom she somehow had never had time to love 
enough. In these past few days, though, there had been 
plenty of time. She had wept until she could weep no 
more; now there was only this aching emptiness that 
nothing would ever quite fill. 

After the hysterical unreality of Saturday night, Dr. 
Militello had kept her under a sedative all through 
Sunday, and when she awoke Monday, Frank and Irma 
had all the necessary arrangements made even to the 
black wardrobe Irma had ordered, knowing her measure- 
ments. They had been wonderful. So had her grief- 
stricken parents, and George and Loretta, and the Mili- 
tellos everyone, in fact, whom she had despised or 
deplored or tried to use to her own ends. 

They had all been too kind to her. When she sobbed 
over and over again, "I should never have let Bob run! 
I knew he had heart trouble; I'm the one who killed him!** 

251 



they only made her feel worse with assurances that Bob 
had wanted to be mayor, that she had no reason to 
reproach herself, that it was God's time to call him. 
Strangely enough, only Pat Hartman, of all people, had 
seemed to understand. Though she seemed skeptical of 
Paul's intentions, the girl had made it a point to find 
Caroline herself at the wake, and press her hand, with 
real tears in her eyes. 

"Oh, Pat!" Caroline had choked, feeling a sudden kin- 
ship with her. "To think this is all my own fault!" 

"I think I know what you mean, Mrs. Murray," Pat 
had said gently. "But if youVe learned your lesson, then 
it hasn't all been for nothing, has it?" 

Whatever Pat's lesson was, she had learned it twenty- 
five years younger than Caroline. There was a look of 
new content in her eyes as she went off with Joe Militello. 

In the cold, clear light in which she could look at 
things these days, Caroline knew that she had never really 
matured until now perhaps because she had never 
suffered before. As an outgrowth of that one adolescent 
disappointment, nursed and magnified through the years, 
she had spurned every relationship that made a woman's 
life rich and full. As daughter and sister, even as niece 
and aunt, but above all as wife and mother, she had 
taken everything, given nothing. Courage, her one virtue, 
would stand her in good stead now. Bob's death 
had not broken her spirit, but it had, she hoped, softened 
her into something more like a true woman and a 
true Catholic. 

Yes, only Bob had understood and forgiven the essential 
childishness of her sense of values. He had seen her, not 
as Russell did, as a monster of iniquity or a social 

252 



phenomenon., but as a little girl spitefully showing off 
her own toys because she envied those of richer children. 
Always she had to grasp for what was just out of reach. 
If she were poorer, it would have been wealth; because 
she had enough money, it was the social conquest of 
Lakeport that seemed so necessary. Had that been 
attained, the state capital or Washington itself might have 
been next. That must have been what Russell meant 
when he said that she would never have what she 
wanted, though now his words had come true in a far 
more literal sense. 

But even a child, spoiled and selfish as she had been, 
could do a great deal of harm more harm than poor 
Bob ever suspected, she realized bitterly more than 
anyone knew. Perhaps that was part of her punishment 
the respect people paid to the role she had played 
so long. Only she could feel the irony of such tribute. 
Of course, no one could have reached the position she 
had in Catholic circles without incidentally having done 
some good along the way; but that had been the furthest 
thing from her mind, she was forced to admit to herself 
now. She had reversed the ends and means of such activ- 
ities, and used them only to gratify her own urge 
for power. 

When the conventional decent interval should be over, 
and Catholic society was clamoring once more for the 
presence of Mrs. R. Emmett Murray, she was resolved 
never to accept an office higher than that of secretary, 
and that only in organizations she knew served some 
really useful purpose. She might never be as hard- 
working as Irma, as easygoing as Loretta, nor as self- 
effacing as Sister Marcella, but at least she could try, 

253 



as far as it was in her to do so. Whatever little she could 
do for the faith could scarcely make up for all the un- 
conscious harm she had done in its name. 

Even toward God her eyes seemed open for the first 
time. No longer was He a being made in her own image 
and likeness to reward the right people according to the 
amount of external Catholic Action performed. Yes, she 
promised herself in the pain of the moment, the years 
of widowhood ahead would be less conspicuously Cath- 
olic, more concerned with the spiritual realities of the 
faith whose true meaning she had never explored if 
only in preparation for reunion with Bob in the next 
world. Such a soul as his must surely have been ready for 
eternity even without Extreme Unction. The way he 
looked that night, lying there on the floor of Garibaldi 
Hall, would haunt her always, she thought now when- 
ever she felt the old temptation to play the martyr to 
Catholic Action, to impress some supposed social superior, 
to put some unoffending woman "in her place." 

But the past which she had been too busy scheming 
to enjoy had now taken on the charm of the irrevocably 
lost. Even her little round of parties, teas, and bridge 
luncheons had meant more with Bob always there in the 
background to depend on, smiling at her triumphs, consol- 
ing her defeats, without ever looking too deeply into 
what lay beneath them. And it was she alone, with the 
best intentions for everyone, who had set in motion the 
train of events that had laid Bob in his coffin and 
shattered forever all that carefree, comfortable life she 
had loved more than she knew. Everything that had 
happened went back to tEe June day of the twins 7 grad- 
uation, when she had first conceived her great idea and 

254 



begun to materialize it through Frank, while Irma and 
the children sang around the piano. How happy they had 
all been then! 

Never had she even begun to appreciate Bob as he 
deserved, she came to realize more and more, standing 
by his coffin in the living room, which was banked ceiling 
high with the floral tributes of a shocked city. Even the 
scents of her favorite corsage flowers would have painful 
associations now. Many callers had come on her account, 
of course, but there were far more whom she had never 
seen before Sisters of Charity and lay nurses from the 
hospital, people Bob had helped there, clerks from the 
health department, children from orphanages he had 
given free medical care, young doctors he had advised, 
patients from years back all friends made in that active 
professional life of his in which Caroline had taken only 
the most perfunctory interest. 

Nothing she could ever do would be worthy of him, 
but when St. Charles' redecoration was completed, it 
would include a large, new, stained-glass window "in 
loving memory of Dr. Robert E. Murray" the way he 
preferred to write his name with no mention of 
the donor. 

To think that the very last look he had given her was 
one of doubt and distrust! This was but one of the 
thousand ways in which remorse pursued her her only 
fit retribution, she half realized. She could never even be 
sure how much the fatal heart attack had been brought 
on by the brief scuffle and how much by the shock of 
hearing the rumor about the twins as he had. No torment 
could be more agonizing nor more mercilessly just than 
the weary recurrence of these vain regrets. 

255 



Painfully, she tried to reconstruct every recent word 
and act of Bob's especially during his last day. She had 
let him sleep most of the afternoon, when they could have 
been talking. She had not even intended to allow him 
the little trip to which he had been looking forward. She 
had been planning to lecture him all the way home from 
the rally. Only the mercy of God had prevented her from 
attending that banquet! All day Saturday, with never a 
thought of Bob, she had been devising means to keep 
Paul out of the Jesuits. 

Under the circumstances, since the whole inflated rumor 
had now been publicly exploded, Paul had not said any 
more about his intentions except to the few people he 
thought would be impressed. When Mimi Jordan appeared 
briefly at the wake, though not too clear as to all that 
Paul's decision involved, she had seemed on the whole not 
displeased. Perhaps, thought Caroline, Mimi sensed that 
without compromise on her part their divergent back- 
grounds would never blend any better than had those of 
her own parents. No doubt she liked to think that at least 
no other girl would ever get Paul. 

Caroline was not so sure about that. Only yesterday 
Paul had said to her, "Of course, I won't go away now, 
Mother, if you really feel you need me." 

But Caroline no longer trusted Paul's motives so com- 
pletely now that she had a clearer view of her own. 
Much as she would have liked to settle the question for 
him, she would not give him the easiest way out *of his 
hastiness, if that was what he was seeking. Let him either 
go through with his announced plans, or else admit that 
they had been no more than a rash expedient. He must 
make up his own mind, one way or the other. 

256 



"No, Paul, 7 * she forced herself to say, *you must go, 
if you believe that's your vocation. IT1 still have Peter." 

But would she have Peter? How much of the truth 
had he pieced together? Would he ever trust her as 
he did her mother, or even Irma? Could she ever win 
back his confidence after what she had tried to do? And 
all to break up his innocent little romance with Janet, who 
had been so unobtrusively helpful through these past dark 
days. Perhaps it was partly Janet's sympathy that had 
enabled Peter to bear up so much better than Paul, 
though the loss of their father must mean even more 
to him. Or perhaps it was just as Russell said, Peter was 
the stronger character. 

Russell had been so right in so many things he had 
said, both in his discourse and in his private scene with 
her. She still could not quite see their clash as a simple 
struggle between good and evil, but she could no longer 
deny that the good for which he aimed was as real as 
hers had been synthetic. In exposing her to herself, he 
had only been trying to make her face the truth as 
he saw it. 

Indeed, his only mistake was in tracing so much of 
her motivation to the loss of Bert Jordan. Unversed as 
she was in self-analysis, Caroline even now could not 
explain what made her as she was, but she knew that 
it went deeper than her frustration over Bert. That had 
been a contributing factor, certainly, but it had done no 
more than crystalize an urge that was already latent in 
her personality. Perhaps it was no more than the result 
of being the only daughter of a comfortable family, used 
to getting everything she wanted until she was old 
enough to know that some things she wanted could never 

257 



be attained in Lakeport. Caroline did not know, and it 
no longer mattered much now. 

Russell had been unable to come to the wake, having 
retired Sunday to the St. Vincent de Paul Hospital with 
a "breakdown," presumably brought on by overwork. At 
first Caroline had imagined him thoroughly enjoying his 
poor health, surrounded by best sellers, flowers, and 
dainties from devoted students of all ages and holding 
long heart-to-heart talks with his freshmen. This picture 
might be true enough, outwardly, but from what Sister 
Marcella said it was clear that what had really put Father 
Carmody under Dr. Militello's care was the nervous 
strain of the previous week, ending in the fatal outcome 
of what had started as part of a lecture in adolescent 
psychology. Though Caroline doubted that he would 
care to hear anything she had to say, nevertheless she 
had sent Peter over with a note expressing her heartfelt 
conviction that she now understood what he had tried 
to tell her and absolving him of any blame in regard 
to the gossip. 

Certainly he could not have known how his psycho- 
logical speculation about the twins would affect Nick 
Antonucci. As far as Caroline could gather, Nick had first 
reported his impression to Rita to cure her of her silly 
crush on the Murrays, and the more she defended them, 
the more he felt obliged to repeat the charge, even after 
he knew it was unfounded. Undoubtedly he had no idea 
of Caroline's connection with Catholic Charities unless 
he learned of it from Rita's interview but no one knew 
better than she what lay behind his bitter resentment 
against Democrats in general and the carefree, popular 
Murrays in particular. 

258 



Thus when Charlotte Phelps' lightly repeated version 
of the story, though never considered campaign material 
by the more responsible Republican leaders, had quickly 
trickled down from the Porter Fentons' hunt breakfast to 
the ward heeler level, Nick had naturally considered it 
an independent confirmation of his own suspicions. Even 
so, things might have gone no further had not Rita 
refused him a date Saturday night and at the same time 
revealed Paul's intentions. Inflamed by this apparently 
final proof of what he had said all along, Nick saw his 
chance to earn the gratitude of the Republicans, discredit 
the twins, and avenge himself against the city, all at one 
blow. A bottle of potent Chianti from a neighbor's cellar 
had removed the last of his inhibitions. Knowing what 
Bob would have done, Caroline had brought herself to 
ask President O'Shea not to expel the easily led, dumbly 
remorseful halfback nor cancel his athletic scholarship, 
though she hardly expected the request to be granted. 

But for Rita she could not honestly feel very sorry. 
Confronted by Janet with what Pat had told her at lunch 
Saturday, the talkative girl had finally confessed her 
multiple role in the spread of the story. Sister Marcella, 
to whom she made the admission, promptly had her 
removed from office and membership in every organ- 
ization in the school. It was a much subdued and 
chastened Rita who turned up to pay her respects to 
Dr. Murray, but Caroline noted with approval that Janet 
showed her quickly to the door, without even introducing 
Peter and Paul. 

Indeed, only as daughter of the prospective mayor had 
Rita been spared complete expulsion from the Mount; 
for, strangely enough, there was every chance that Rita 

259 



would soon be wearing Pat Hartman's shoes on the 
wrong feet, of course, Caroline expected. In a sense, she 
felt responsible for the odd predicament in which the 
Democratic party now found itself, for, arguing that the 
healthful aspects of the Hartman administration had been 
emphasized throughout the campaign, the two Italian 
councilmen had seized the opportunity of Bob's death to 
demand that the county executive council endorse Dr. 
Militello in his place. With ominous references to La 
Guardians success in New York, they warned the other 
leaders that a fusion party of discontented Italians and 
Poles would defeat the two present machines at the next 
election unless the doctor was chosen. 

The Poles, offered a number of appointive plums, were 
willing to accept an Italian candidate, not only because 
of their similar position in Lakeport, but also probably 
because they had no bitter memories of Italy from the 
last war and it had not actively entered the current one. 
So, -with the Democratic chances better than ever, Caro- 
line was giving the city its first Italian mayor, and the 
one woman she had done most to alienate would be 
First Lady of Lakeport. 

Obviously, Mrs. Militello would need some sort of 
social mentor when she assumed her new position. Would 
it not be the plain duty of a more experienced friend 
to instruct her in those little niceties of etiquette which 
she had never had the opportunity to acquire? Bob would 
surely want her to do that much for the wife of his 
colleague, Caroline told herself. There was, indeed, a 
certain grim satisfaction in the prospect of the local smart 
set' s enforced submission to the humble Italian woman 
they who had thought themselves too good for Caroline. 

260 



The power behind the throne, after all, could be a good 
thing if used for proper ends. 

How could she have envied such shallow snobs as 
Miriam Jordan? Caroline wondered. For twenty years she 
had enjoyed with Bob all that Miriam had wanted most 
of her worthless Bert for whose memory Caroline now 
felt nothing but distaste. Bob had been perfectly right. 
People like the Jordans were simply not worth bothering 
with a fact that must be made quite clear to Mrs. 
Militello before the first official reception. Yes, more than 
one aristocratic nose would be put out of joint during 
the next four years. . . . 

The choir's responsory, Libera me, domine, de morte 
aeterna, reminded Caroline that the Requiem Mass was 
over. When the bishop as celebrant had sprinkled and 
incensed the bier and said the final Latin prayers, the 
undertaker appeared to turn it about on its wheeled stand 
and move it slowly down the aisle. 

Bob would want her to bear up, Caroline assured her- 
self, as she carefully lowered the crepe veil over her face, 
and arose. A study in unrelieved black, she walked 
majestically down the long aisle between her two tall 
sons, leaning on Peter's arm only a little, near the end. 
On the cathedral steps news photographers pressed 
through the crowd for closer views of the bereaved 
family. Bravely, Mrs. R. Emmett Murray held up her 
head for the pictures that would be in all the 
evening papers. 



261 






II 



26115 



65 < 

g