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THE 
OLLIVANT  ORPHANS 


BY 

INEZ  HAYNES  GILLMORE 

Author  of  "Phoebe  and  Ernest,"  "Phoebe,  Ernest,  and  Cupid/'  Etc. 


FRONTISPIECE  BY 

JAMES  MONTGOMERY  FLAGG 


}  *  j       >  *  >    i  *  * , 


METHUEN   &   CO.,    LTD. 

36  ESSEX  STREET,  W.C 
LONDON 


Copyright,  1913,  1914,  19x5, 

BY 

THE  METROPOLITAN  MAGAZINE  COMPANY 
Copyright,  1915, 

BY 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


Published  October,  1915 


PBINTED   IN   THE   U.   S.   A. 


TO 
KATIE   AND   JULIA 


414924 


CONTENTS 


:hapter 
I 

The  Home  Coming    . 

PAGE 
I 

II 

Standing  By       ... 

•                 23 

III 

Ann  Takes  Charge  . 

49 

IV 

Lainey's  Gift     .... 

7i 

V 

Roland's  Friend 

95 

VI 

Beckie's  Job       .... 

■      ii7 

VII 

Ann's  New  Set  .... 

141 

rai 

Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Mascu 

line 

,      166 

IX 

Roly  Comes  Through 

191 

X 

Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  . 

217 

XI 

Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voici 

:     247 

XII 

The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company  . 

281 

THE    OLLIVANT    ORPHANS 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  HOME  COMING 

THEY  had  expected  to. return  as  they  came, 
Ed,  Matt,  Beckie  and  Lainey  in  the  first 
carriage,  Ann  and  Roland  with  the  aunts  in  the 
second  carriage.  But  at  the  last  moment,  shattered 
by  a  fresh  outbreak  of  weeping,  Ann  had  thrown 
herself  between  her  sisters;  and  Roland,  in  what 
was  palpably  panic  at  the  thought  of  segregation, 
had  leaped  in  behind  her.  Now  they  sat  huddled 
close,  the  three  girls  facing  the  horses,  the  three 
boys  riding  backwards.  Ann's  head,  almost  buried 
under  the  rich  disarray  of  her  hair,  lay  on  Lainey's 
shoulder.  They  clung  so  close  that  they  might  have 
been  a  sculptured  group,  Ann  passionately  relaxed, 
Lainey  tense  and  drawn.  When  the  sobs  burst  from 
Ann's  writhing  mouth,  they  seemed  to  run  noise- 
lessly up  the  long  line  of  Lainey's  translucent  throat 
until  they  died  on  her  delicate  lips.  Roland  had 
settled  back  in  the  corner  as  though  asleep,  but  his 
swollen  lids  did  not  conceal  the  moist  glitter  that 
oozed  between  his  inky  lashes. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  back  to  the  house,"  Ann 
burst  out  after  the  long  silence  which  had  been 
interrupted  only  by  her  grief.     "  I  don't  want  to 


The  Home  Coming 

go  back  there — I  can't  bear  it."  Ann's  slim  figure 
shook  as  though  her  words  were  bullets,  and 
Lainey's  slim  figure  vibrated  to  each  shock. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  home  with  Aunt  Ella?  " 
asked  Beckie.  Beckie  did  not  give  way  although  her 
voice  was  harsh  with  strain,  her  face  stiff  with  effort. 
Her  eyes  alone  showed  havoc;  they  gleamed  with 
the  frenzied  protest  of  the  wild  creature  on  whom 
life  has  unexpectedly  thrust  cataclysm. 

"  Oh  no,  no,  no!)y  protested  Ann.  "I  couldn't 
do  that.  I  don't  love  Aunt  Ella.  I  want  to  stay 
with  you.  I'm  afraid  somebody'll  die  if  I  go  away. 
But  I  don't  want  to  go  back  to  the  house — I  don't 
want  to.    I  can't  bear  it." 

"  We've  got  to  go  back,  Ann,"  Ed  Ollivant  said. 
He  withdrew  his  gaze  from  the  spot  in  the  door- 
glass  on  which,  from  the  beginning  of  the  home- 
ward journey,  it  had  been  fixed;  it  went  to  Ann 
for  an  instant.  Ed  had  not  shed  a  tear.  His 
regular  blonde  face  was  as  ever  freshly-colored 
and  smoothly-handsome,  but  it  looked  frozen. 
Only  the  lips,  under  his  little  golden  mustache, 
pressed  so  close  that  they  seamed  a  straight  gash 
across  his  face.  "  You  wouldn't  like  to  go  to  a  hotel, 
would  you?  " 

"  Oh  no!"  Ann  shuddered;  and  her  shudder 
overflowed  into  Lainey's  tense  body.  "  But  I  wish  I 
could  go  away  forever.  I  can't  feel  that  the  house 
is  home  any  longer.  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  living 
there  without  mother.  I  know  I  shall  never  go 
into  mother's  room  without  seeing  the  coffin  there 
and  that  dreadful  black  fur  rug  and  those  horrible 
tuberoses  Uncle  Joshua  sent." 

"We'll    lock    up    mother's    room,    Ann   dear," 


The  Home  Coming  3 

Lainey  promised.  "  We  won't  go  into  it  again  for 
years  and  years  and  years." 

"  But  that  won't  make  any  difference  to  me," 
sobbed  Ann.  "  Every  time  I  go  by  the  door,  I'll 
remember I  can't  endure  to  think  of  seeing  it." 

"  We  can  go  in  by  the  back  way,  Ann,"  Matt 
Ollivant  said.  "  And  if  you  go  to  bed  up  the  back 
stairs,  you  won't  have  to  see  mother's  room  to- 
night." Matt  was  not  so  composed  as  his  elder 
brother.  His  skin  was  splotched;  the  clear  red  of 
his  cheeks  had  spread  and  mottled.  His  eyes  were 
puffed;  the  blue  of  the  pupil  seemed  to  have  run 
into  the  white.  All  the  sparkle  had  gone  from  his 
crest  of  red  hair.  "  Don't  cry  any  more,  Ann," 
he  begged.  "  It  makes  us  all  feel  so  much  worse." 
Matt's  voice  came  close  to  the  breaking-point. 

"  I  won't  cry  another  minute,"  Ann  said.  "  I 
promise  I  won't."  Nevertheless,  she  burst  into  the 
fiercest  paroxysm  yet.  But  immediately  she  sat  up 
and  began  to  straighten  her  hair.  Weeping  had 
discolored  and  misshapen  her  face;  but  it  was  to 
be  seen  that,  normally,  she  was  a  pretty  girl  with 
huge  eyes  of  a  burning  gold,  and  hair  chestnut 
bright  at  the  surface,  but  so  shadowy  in  the  depths 
that  it  made  incredible  the  whiteness  of  her  skin. 

For  a  long  while  nobody  spoke.  Ed's  frigid  gaze 
went  back  to  the  door-glass.  Roland  continued  to 
try  to  look  as  though  he  were  asleep.  Matt  folded 
his  arms,  sank  his  chin  onto  his  chest,  fixed  his 
dull  eyes  on  the  little  window  in  the  back  of  the 
carriage.  The  three  girls  sagged  in  various  atti- 
tudes of  apathy.  The  horses  began  gradually  to 
take  a  smarter  pace.  Outside,  a  country  landscape, 
colored  ardently  by  the   fall,  whirled  past.     The 


4  The  Home  Coming 

houses  began  to  come  closer  together;  they  passec 
through  a  town:  again  the  streets  melted  away  and 
it  was  almost  country  again.  Presently  the  houses 
pressed  in  close  and  closer,  changed  to  apartment 
buildings.  The  clang  of  the  trolley  began  to  accom- 
pany them  now:  they  were  riding  through  house- 
packed  suburb  streets.  The  driver  was  openly 
urging  the  horses  on. 

11  We'll  be  home  in  fifteen  minutes/'  Beckie  of- 
fered to  their  preoccupation. 

The  six  pairs  of  eyes  listlessly  watched  the  fa- 
miliar landmarks  slide  into  view.  "  Here's  Mar- 
lowe Place,"  Beckie  said  after  another  long  silence. 

"  Remember,"  Ann  ordered,  her  hysteria  visibly 
returning.     "  Remember  to  go  in  the  back  way." 

"  We  won't  forget,  Ann,"  Ed  reassured  her. 
The  carriage  turned,  slowed.  Ed  tapped  on  the 
window;  the  wheel  ground  against  the  curb.  Ed 
opened  the  door,  leaped  out,  held  his  hand  up  to 
Ann. 

Marlowe  Place  began  in  a  narrow,  alley-like  en- 
trance and  then  broadened  into  a  horseshoe-shaped 
inclosure  which  ran  around  a  little  elm-encircled 
park.  Half  a  dozen  houses  looked  onto  this  park. 
None  of  them  were  old,  but  they  were  all  oldish 
in  a  pleasant,  ample,  mid- Victorian  fashion.  The 
Ollivant  house  was  the  least  conspicuous :  it  was  the 
most  bromidic.  The  front  elevation  was  A-shaped; 
it  was  elaborately  bay-windowed  and  it  was  colored 
an  ugly  dark  maroon  with  white  trimmings.  Sy- 
ringa  and  lilacs  grew  untended  in  the  scrap  of 
front  yard.  A  board-walk,  some  of  the  boards 
gone,  many  of  them  rotting,  and  most  of  them 
loose,  led  to  a  big  back  yard.    There  a  huge  wood- 


The  Home  Coming  5 

bine,  doing  its  best  to  conceal  the  need  of  repainting, 
cascaded  over  two  sides  of  the  house  and  along  the 
ell.  Everything  looked  old  and  shabby  and  neg- 
lected; the  unkempt  vine  waving  its  autumn  tatters, 
the  flower-plots  with  their  few  sticks  of  starved 
plants;  even  the  little  summer-house  standing  be- 
tween the  lilac  and  the  syringa  and  the  elaborate 
bird-house  on  the  top  of  a  pole.  The  Ollivants,  in 
their  improvised  funeral-black,  filed  down  this  walk, 
Ed  at  the  head,  Ann  bringing  up  the  rear.  Ed 
unlocked  the  door.  Beckie  stepped  in  first.  The 
others  followed  her,  crowding.  But  once  over  the 
threshold,  they  all  stopped  stock-still  as  though  they 
had  entered  a  strange  house. 

But  Beckie  took  charge.  She  tiptoed  over  to  the 
stove  and  lifted  the  cover.  "  Oh,  the  fire's  still 
going,"  she  commented.     "  That's  good." 

Beckie's  words  were  commonplace  enough.  But 
she  whispered. 

Mechanically  Beckie  began  to  draw  the  pins  from 
her  hat.  Mechanically  the  two  girls  mimicked  her. 
The  boys  removed  their  coats,  tugged  off  the  stiff, 
cheap  black  gloves,  beginning  already  to  pull  white 
in  the  seams.  Then  they  all  stood  still  as  though 
waiting. 

"  How  neat  it  looks  here,"  Beckie  said  in  a  dis- 
jointed way  and  still  in  a  whisper.  "  Everything's 
back  in  place.     Somebody's  been  cleaning  up.     My 

hair  must  look  like "    She  turned  and  made  as 

though  to  examine  herself  in  the  smoky  mirror  over 
the  kitchen  sink,  but  her  eyes  passed  unseeingly 
across  its  surface.  u  We  might  as  well  put  our 
things  in  the  dining-room." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ed.     "  Sure !  "    He  too  spoke  in  a 


6  The  Home  Coming 

low  tone.  But  nobody  moved.  After  a  while,  with 
a  convulsive  jerk,  Ed  started  into  the  back  hall. 
The  little  procession,  hesitating,  followed.  The 
door  of  the  dining-room  was  open. 

It  was  a  big,  plain  room,  palpably  half  living- 
room  and  half  dining-room.  The  carpeted  floor, 
the  meager  hair-cloth  couch,  the  two  morris- 
chairs  in  oak,  a  combination-piece  of  desk,  book- 
case, and  plate-rack,  also  in  oak,  contributed  to  its 
living-room  aspect.  The  pictures,  still  life  in  pastel, 
the  big  oval  table  with  its  darned  table-cloth  and  its 
heterogeneous  china,  the  ponderous  sideboard  of 
black  walnut  carved  with  unnatural  grapes,  and  cov- 
ered with  china,  salts  and  peppers,  glass  vinegar 
and  oil  cruets,  a  tarnished  silver  cake-basket,  and 
a  big  silver  ice-water  pitcher,  brought  it  up  to  the 
dining-room  level  again. 

"  How  nice  it  looks  here !  M  Lainey  said.  "  Every- 
thing's dusted  and  put  back  into  place.  The  table's 
set.  There's  a  fire  going  in  the  stove  too.  Some- 
body's been  working  hard  since  we  left.  We  must 
find  out  who  and  thank  her."  Lainey  spoke  in  quick 
gasps,  but  she  whispered  too. 

"  The  first  thing  to  do  now,"  Beckie  explained, 
articulating  carefully,  "  is  to  get  something  to  eat. 
I'm  going  to  cook  dinner.  I've  ordered  a  steak. 
I  told  them  not  to  deliver  it  till  we  got  back.     I 

didn't  know  how  long  it  would  take  to I'll 

make  a  big  potful  of  coffee.  We'll  feel  a  great  deal 
better  as  soon  as  we've  got  something  hot  in  us.1 

"That's  right,"  approved  Ed.  "Want  am 
help,  Beckie?" 

14  Yes,"  said  Beckie.  "  But  first  I  want  Roly  t( 
lie  down  and  take  a  little  nap.    He  looks  tired-t( 


The  Home  Coming  7 

death.  I'll  wake  you  up  just  as  soon  as  dinner's 
ready,  Roly." 

Roland's  eyes  had  steadily  grown  heavier  and 
heavier  during  the  long  drive.  Now  he  stood  star- 
ing about  him  in  the  bewilderment  of  a  child  who 
has  been  punished  for  the  first  time.  He  sat  down 
on  the  couch  at  once,  however,  and  apathetically 
watched  Beckie  mass  the  pillows.  She  had  hardly 
covered  him  with  the  ragged  afghan  before  his 
breathing  dropped  an  octave. 

"Now,  Ed,"  Beckie  went  on  in 'whispered  com- 
mand, "  you  go  downstairs  and  get  me  some  coal. 
Matt,  you  go  out  into  the  woodshed  and  chop  a 
little  kindling  for  to-morrow  morning.  And,  Lainey, 
you  and  Ann  go  upstairs  and  wash  up.  Then  you 
come  down  and  I'll  put  you  to  work." 

The  five  Ollivants  followed  her  instructions  im- 
plicitly. The  death-like  stillness  in  the  house  broke. 
From  the  cellar  came — muffled — the  sound  of  coal 
shoveled  into  the  hod;  from  the  woodshed  came — 
subdued — the  sound  of  wood  smashing  on  the 
block;  from  the  kitchen  came — muted — the  clatter 
of  pans,  the  opening  and  shutting  of  drawers.  But 
all  these  sounds  stopped  dead  at  intervals  and  then 
went  on  with  an  increasing  effort  towards  quiet. 

Lainey  and  Ann  went  into  the  big,  back  room  on 
the  second  floor  which  they  had  shared  ever  since 
they  were  little  girls.  It  had  every  earmark  of  the 
chamber  that  is  trying  to  be  a  living-room.  Two 
couches,  coming  together  in  a  corner,  covered  with 
bagdads  and  heaped  with  cushions,  made  a  strenuous 
effort  not  to  look  like  beds.  A  table  with  big 
drawers  that,  after  use,  swallowed  up  all  the  articles 


8  The  Home  Coming 

of  the  toilet,  did  its  best  not  to  look  like  a  dresser. 
A  high  screen  at  one  corner  concealed  the  washing 
arrangements.  A  little  spindly,  slant-top  maple 
desk,  over-furnished  with  writing  utensils,  lay  open. 
Its  top  was  covered  with  framed  photographs;  they 
had  overflowed  in  such  numbers  onto  the  broad 
marble  mantel  that  it  was  like  a  shrine  to  friend- 
ship. The  walls  were  covered  with  pictures,  pretty 
girls  from  magazine  covers  and  magazine  illustra- 
tions, all  passe-partouted. 

Lainey  went  behind  the  screen,  poured  the  bowl 
full  of  water.  "  You  wash  first,  Ann,"  she  directed. 
11  And  I  want  you  to  take  off  that  dress  and  put 
on  something  white.     I  hate  you  in  black." 

"  All  right,"  Ann  agreed  docilely.  "  I  hate  it 
too.  But,"  she  burst  into  a  sudden  passion,  "  I 
shall  wear  black  for  a  while.  I  wouldn't  for  the 
world  have  anybody  think  that  I  was  lacking  in 
respect  to  my  mother." 

"  Nobody  will  think  that,"  Lainey  protested  in- 
dignantly, unhooking  Ann.     "  If  they  do,  they're  no 

friends  of  ours.     Everybody  knows  how  we " 

She  did  not  attempt  to  finish.  After  a  while,  she 
turned  her  back  on  her  sister  and  Ann,  with  fum- 
bling fingers,  unfastened  Lainey's  dress. 

"Why!"  Ann  exclaimed  in  almost  a  natural 
voice  a  few  moments  later,  emerging  from  behind 
the  screen,  "what's  become  of  the  tea-table?" 

Lainey  turned  from  the  mirror,  her  tiny  sticks  of 
arms  uplifted  to  her  head.  She  had  taken  her  hair 
down;  her  little  white  face  showed  only  as  a  cres- 
cent under  its  long  thick  golden  shower.  "Why, 
that's  so!  I  don't  know  where  it  is.  But  the  house 
has  been  so  upset.     Perhaps  they  needed  it  during 


The  Home  Coming  9 

the — it's  probably  downstairs  in  moth "    Again 

she  did  not  finish. 

They  still  talked  in  whispers. 

A  door  on  the  floor  above  opened  softly.  M  Say, 
Lainey,"  Ed's  hushed  voice  floated  down,  M  do 
you  know  what's  become  of  the  bookcases  in  our 
room?  Somebody's  taken  them  away  and  my 
clothes  are  all  on  the  bed.  Matt  says  he  doesn't 
know  where  they  are." 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  Ed,"  Lainey  answered, 
her  voice  lowered  too.  "  They  may  have  needed 
them  downstairs  during  the — it's  probably  in 
moth though  I  can't  think  what  for." 

11  Well,  I'll  hunt  them  up  later."  Ed's  whispered 
tones  were  now  carefully  business-like.  "  It  doesn't 
make  any  difference.  I  only  used  them  to  hang  my 
trousers  in.     I  only  wondered " 

Ann  was  now  combing  her  hair  in  front  of  the 
mirror.  Ann's  hair  was  very  different  from 
Lainey's  vapory  mane;  crisper,  coarser,  it  made 
halfway  to  her  waist  a  bolt  of  solid  shadow.  Over 
each  ear,  however,  a  lock  of  hair  pulled  free, 
whirled  into  a  flat  spiral,  lay  like  a  bit  of  carved 
jet  on  the  white  temple.  Lainey  had  padded  her  hair 
flat  to  her  neck  after  a  few  careless  passes  with  the 
comb;  but  Ann's  hairdressing,  even  at  this  moment, 
was  not  construction,  it  was  architecture.  Ann  was 
younger  than  Lainey,  but  she  was  not  so  small  or 
so  slim.  There  was  an  incipient  peach-like  round- 
ness to  her  contours  which  matched  the  peach-like 
bloom  of  her  colors  and  the  peach-like  softness  of 
her  surfaces.  The  cold  water  had  removed  the 
stains  of  weeping.  Only  the  deep  droop  of  her 
wide  red  mouth  remained.     She  pulled  on  a  skirt 


io  The  Home  Coming 

of  white  duck,  unskilfully  starched  to  a  crackling 
cylindrical  stiffness.  Over  that  came  a  middy- 
blouse  ;  she  knotted  a  black  tie  below  the  triangle  oi 
velvety  neck. 

Lainey's  faded,  flat-chested  muslin  had  come  oi 
too.    And  now  the  hair  that  she  had  so  relentlessb 
smoothed  down  began,  by  means  of  flying  wefts  an< 
strays,  to  form  the  natural  halo  which  always  floated 
about   her    head.      That    soft    tendrilly    hair    was 
Lainey's  only  beauty.     Her  skin  was  a  little  pasty, 
her   features  nondescript;  her  eyes   so   small   and 
colorless  and  deep-set  that  it  was  only  in  conversa- 
tion that  you  noticed  them.     But  if  she  were  talking 
you  noticed  them  all  the  time. 

Although  the  boys'  room  was  the  biggest  one 
in  the  house,  it  made  no  effort  to  look  like  anything 
else;  it  was  unmistakably  only  a  place  to  sleep  in. 
Both  carpet  and  wallpaper  had  faded  to  a  dreary 
innocuousness.  The  chamber-set — drab,  ornamented 
with  panels  of  sky-blue,  in  turn  decorated  with 
bunches  of  pink  roses — had  been  eked  out  with 
derelicts  from  other  rooms;  an  easy-chair  from 
the  hair-cloth  set,  a  broken  spring  protruding 
through  the  seat;  a  tumble-down  mahogany  etagere 
bearing  the  dusty  minerals  that  Matt  had  so  pains- 
takingly collected  in  his  young  boyhood,  a  swinging 
book-shelf  covered  with  the  cups  that  Matt  had  won 
at  tennis.  A  few  rusty  guns  and  swords,  revolving 
about  a  canteen,  made  a  pretense  of  filling  one  wall- 
space  ;  another  showed  faded  areas  the  exact  shapes 
of  the  missing  bookcases.  Small  framed  pictures 
in  ugly,  haphazard  frames,  High  School  diplomas, 
class-groups,  Ed's  hunting-crowd,  his  first  deer,  hung 


The  Home  Coming  n 

at  awkward  intervals  on  the  gaunt  walls.  Matt's 
football  regalia,  his  baseball  mask,  his  class  pennant 
tried  unavailingly  to  give  character  to  the  room. 

Ed  had  come  upstairs  first.  He  had  washed  at 
the  little  rickety  washstand.  Now  he  was  changing 
his  suit.  He  stood  in  front  of  the  only  modern  piece 
the  room  contained,  a  tall  slim  light-colored  chif- 
fonier spread  with  toilet  articles  in  ebonized  wood, 
elaborately  monogramed.  Matt  had  ascended  from 
the  woodshed  after  an  interval.  He  too  had  washed 
at  the  little  rickety  washstand.  Now  he  was 
shaving.  He  stood  before  the  drab-blue-rose  bu- 
reau whose  glass  rippled  like  a  small  pond,  sift- 
ing shaving  powder  onto  his  brush.  As  yet  no 
word  had  passed  between  the  brothers. 

"  Looks  like  good  weather  for  the  World  Series," 
Ed  dropped  without  expression  after  a  while. 

Matt  cleared  his  throat.  "  Yes.  I  see  Callahan 
favors  the  Red  Sox." 

11  Well,  I  guess  he's  bound  to  stand  by  the  Amer- 
ican League,"  Ed  suggested. 

11  Sure !  "  Matt's  ripost  came  prompt  on  the 
tail  of  Ed's  comment.  "  Smoky  Joe  looks  pretty 
good  to  me,"  he  hurried  on. 

11  Yes."  Ed  pulled  his  suspenders  over  his 
shoulders  by  means  of  two  contortions  of  his  lithe 
frame.  He  seized  a  brush  in  each  hand  and  at- 
tacked his  head  as  though  it  were  a  wild  beast.  At 
intervals  he  stopped  short;  then  he  slapped  at  it 
again.  "Yes,  but  he's  up  against  Matty."  This 
came  out  with  abruptness,  as  though  he  had  sud- 
denly remembered  that  there  was  a  conversation  to 
sustain. 


tt 


12  The  Home  Coming 

"  Yes,  of  course,  Matty's  a  great  pitcher,"  Matt 
interpolated  quickly,  "  but  they  all  get  old  som( 
time."     He  lathered  his  face. 

"That's   right,"   agreed  Ed.     He   dropped  th< 
brushes. 

There  came  a  pause.  And  into  that  pause  drifte< 
silence,  a  profound  silence,  a  silence  which  took  on 
all  the  significance  of  noise  and  went  echoing  and  re- 
echoing through  the  stark  house. 

Matt  stared  at  his  reflection  in  the  wavy  mirror. 
Stared  back  at  him  a  white  clown's  face  of  which 
the  blue  eyes  were  turned  to  black  buttons  and  the 
white  teeth  to  yellow  fangs  by  the  snowy  lather. 
14  Do  you  think  the  Giants  are  faster  in  the  paths  than 
the  Red  Sox?"  that  clown  asked.  His  words,  in 
the  terrible  silence,  crashed  like  bombs  exploding 
in  an  air-shaft. 

Ed  looked  as  though  he  were  waiting  for  the 
echoes  to  die  down.  M  When  a  man  goes  faster 
than  Hooper,  he's  going  some." 

Matt  slashed  swiftly  through  the  lather. 
11  McGraw  says  that  Carrigan's  arm  is  weak" 

"  Well,  for  a  poor  old  cripple — "  Ed  stopped 
and  with  a  nice  precision  selected  a  tie  from  the  wad 
which  hung  over  the  arm  of  the  gas-jet.  It  seemed 
an  endless  time  that  he  crossed  and  recrossed  it. 
" — he  can  still  throw  out  quite  a  number  at  second. 
He  doesn't  let  his  arm  out  unless  he  has  to." 

They  still  talked  in  husky  murmurs. 

"  Now  let's  go  down  and  see  what  we  can  do  to 
help  Beck,"  Ann  said. 

Hand  in  hand,  the  sisters  left  the  room,  walked 
along  the  front  hall.     Ann's  foot  was  on  the  top 


The  Home  Coming  13 

stair  when  Lainey  said:  "Oh,  but,  Ann,  I  forgot. 
You  don't  want  to  pass  mother's  room." 

"  Oh  no!  "  There  came  a  recurrence  of  Ann's 
shudder.  "I  don't.  But  look,  the  door's  open! 
Ed  must  close  it — and — and — and  lock  it.  But 
what's  that?"     She  pointed. 

The  wall  opposite  the  open  door  of  Mrs.  Olli- 
vant's  room  showed  a  reflection  which  rioted  up- 
wards in  many  shreds  of  red  light. 

14  Why,  there  must  be  a  fire  in  the  stove,"  Ann 
continued.  "  But  that  wouldn't  make  such  a  blaze. 
Why,  what  can  it  be?  The  house  isn't  on  fire,  is  it? 
Oh,  Lainey,  I'm  afraid." 

"  I'm  not,"  Lainey  said  in  a  resolute  voice.  And 
dropping  Ann's  hand,  she  ran  swiftly  down  the 
stairs,  crossed  the  hall,  reached  the  doorway.  A 
moment  she  stood  staring,  her  soft  lips  breaking 
away  from  each  other  like  the  petals  of  an  opening 
flower.  "  Oh,  Ann !  "  she  breathed.  And  her  "  Oh, 
Ann !  "  was  an  exclamation  of  delight.  "  Oh,  Ann, 
how  lovely  it  looks !  Why,  I  can  almost  remember 
when — Oh,  Ann,  come  down!  It's  beautiful! 
Come  down !    Come  down !  " 

Ann  did  not  hesitate ;  she  flew  to  her  sister's  side, 
peered  over  her  shoulder.  "  Oh,  Lainey!  "  she  said 
in  a  wondering  tone.  And  her  tone  was  glad  too. 
"Oh!  Oh!  It's  lovely!  Who  did  it?"  Suddenly 
she  raised  her  voice  in  a  vibrating  call.  "  Beck, 
Beck,  do  come  here!  Something  beautiful!  Ed, 
come  down!  Matt!  Matt!  Roly,  wake  up!  Do 
come,  all  of  you !     Do  come !  " 

They  came.  Ollivants  poured  from  all  directions, 
Beckie  with  a  big  kitchen-spoon  in  her  hand,  Ed  in 
his   shirt-sleeves,    Matt   with  a    shaving-towel  still 


14  The  Home  Coming 

tucked  into  his  neck,  Roly  with  the  briery  thatch 
his  inky  hair  standing  up  in  all  directions,  his  eyes 
still  heavy  with  sleep.  "  What  is  it?  "  they  all  asked 
as  they  crowded  into  the  doorway.  "  What  is  it, 
Ann?"  But  their  own  eyes  answered  their  ques- 
tion and  there  followed  an  instant  of  paralysis. 
Then  they  broke  into  another  clamor  and  in  it  their 
voices  all  went  up  or  came  down  to  a  natural  pitch. 
"  It's  Aunt  Lottie,"  said  Beckie.  "  There's  our 
bookcases !  "  This  was  from  Ed.  And  "  There's 
the  tea-table !  "  That  was  from  Ann.  "  How'd  they 
do  it  so  quickly?  "  Matt  asked. 

The  big  front  room — originally  it  had  been  the 
parlor,  but  for  years  now  it  had  been  the 
scene  of  Mrs.  Ollivant's  uncomplaining  invalidism 
— had  undergone  metamorphosis.  The  big  double 
black  walnut  bed  had  gone.  The  black  walnut  bu- 
reau, the  big  black  walnut  table,  the  little  black 
walnut  table,  with  their  depressing  marble  slabs,  had 
gone.  The  glasses,  the  bottles,  the  powders — all 
the  paraphernalia  of  a  chronic  illness — had  gone. 
The  tiny  stove  which  supplemented  their  recalci- 
trant old-fashioned  furnace  had  vanished.  The 
night-lamp  had  disappeared.    And  in  their  places — 

The  fireplace  had  been  reopened;  all  the  brass 
hearth  ornaments  had  been  reinstated;  the  lire-dogs, 
the  fire-screen,  the  shovel,  tongs,  poker,  even  the 
old  trivet,  had  been  shined  until  they  glittered.  The 
fireplace  was  piled  with  blazing  logs  that  flirted 
fan-shaped  volleys  of  sparks.  Over  the  mantel 
hung  the  portrait  of  General  Milliken,  their  great- 
uncle.  And  on  one  side  of  General  Milliken  was 
a  picture  of  their  mother  in  her  warmly-tinted, 
ripely-curved,  blonde  bridehood,  and  on  the  other  a 


The  Home  Coming  15 

picture  of  their  father  in  his  magnificently-colored 
virile  prime.  Mrs.  Ollivant  wore  a  slim,  many- 
buttoned  gown  of  pale  blue  silk,  trimmed  with 
ruffles  of  thread  lace.  She  carried  the  fan  of  pale 
rose-colored  feathers  and  mother-of-pearl  sticks 
which  the  family  still  cherished  as  a  souvenir  of 
her  wedding-trip  to  Paris.  Mr.  Ollivant  wore  a 
suit  of  fawn-colored  broadcloth,  the  coat  long  and 
full-skirted,  the  trousers  wide.  On  the  table  beside 
him  lay  a  pair  of  fawn-colored  gloves  and  a  shining 
fawn-colored  beaver  hat.  He  carried  in  his  hand 
the  slender  stick  which  the  family  still  cherished  as 
a  souvenir  of  the  London  part  of  the  wedding-trip. 
On  the  mantel,  in  place  of  the  bottles,  were  a  pair 
of  brass  candelabra  with  prism  pendants,  two  pairs 
of  mid- Victorian  vases,  and  the  little  Parian  marble 
bust  of  Clytie.  These  were  all  that  remained  of 
Mrs.  Ollivant's  wedding-gifts.  The  big  broad,  low 
sofa — its  wine-colored  upholstery  faded  and  moth- 
eaten — had  been  brought  down  from  the  garret, 
heaped  with  cushions  and  drawn  up  to  the  fire.  At 
one  end,  within  reaching  distance,  glittered  Ann's 
tea-table.  Pushed  close  to  its  back,  also  within 
reaching  distance,  the  big  mahogany  center-table, 
opened  to  its  full  width,  was  piled  with  magazines 
and  with  novels.  An  evening  paper  lay  on  top.  On 
either  side  of  the  mantel  towered  the  tall  old  book- 
cases that  Ed  had  missed.  All  the  old  sets — Scott, 
Dickens,  Thackeray,  Bulwer-Lytton,  Cooper — had 
returned  to  their  shelves.  The  piano — it  ran  slant- 
wise across  the  bay-window — wore  a  brilliant  scarf 
of  Roman  silk.  For  many  months  the  piano  had 
stayed  closed.  Now  it  was  open.  A  book  of  music, 
open  too,  stood  on  the  rack.     Big  puffy  faded  old 


1 6  The  Home  Coming 

chairs,  long  ago  banished  to  the  attic,  had  resumed 
their  places;  old  pictures,  much  tarnished  as  to  elab- 
orate gold  frame  and  much  spotted  as  to  broad 
white  mat,  had  gone  up  on  the  wall. 

"  It  is  Aunt  Lottie,  of  course,"  Beckie  said  as  the 
others  still  stood  staring. 

"  Hark!     What's  that?  "  Ann  asked  suddenly. 

Somewhere  in  the  room  a  bell  tinkled,  continued 
to  emit  a  tiny  chime. 

Ann  dropped  to  the  floor,  lifted  the  valance  of 
the  couch.  "  Well,  of  all  things!  "  she  said.  Half 
of  her  disappeared  for  an  instant.  "A  kitten!" 
she  called  in  a  muffled  tone,  "  with  a  bell  on  its  col- 
lar." She  emerged  holding  a  microscopic  bunch  of 
gray  fur,  all  terrified  round  eyes  and  terrified  fat  tail. 
It  spit  vigorously  at  the  assembled  company.  "  Did 
you  ever  see  such  a  tiny  one  and  so  homely  and  such 
an  ugly  little  tyke — isn't  it  cunning,  though."  Ann 
struggled  to  hold  her  prey.     u  Why,  what's  this?  " 

From  the  kitten's  red  leather  collar  hung  a  string 
that  ran  to  the  couch  leg.  As  Ann  straightened  up, 
a  big,  square  envelope  tied  to  the  string  fluttered 
from  under  the  valance.  "  It's  Aunt  Lot's  hand- 
writing," Ann  said.  "  '  To  Ed  and  Matt  and  Beckie 
and  Lainey  and  Ann  and  Roly,'  "  she  read.  She  tore 
the  envelope  off  the  string,  pulled  the  flap  open. 

The  Ollivants  still  stood  huddled  in  the  doorway. 

"  It's  a  long  letter,"  Ann  explained.  "  Oh,  may 
I  read  it  aloud?  "  she  begged. 

"  We'd  better  sit  down !  "  Beckie  said. 

The  Ollivants  filed  into  the  room,  seated  them- 
selves about  the  fire. 

"Here,  Lainey,  you  take  the  kitty!"  Ann  or- 
dered.    Lainey  obediently  lifted  the  spitting  bunch 


The  Home  Coming  17 

of  fluff  to  her  shoulder.  After  preliminary  prod- 
dings  with  a  pair  of  vicious  little  claws,  he  fell  asleep 
there. 

"  '  My  poor  little  chicks,1  the  letter  began,  '  I  think 
you  must  have  wondered  why  I  did  not  go  to  Mount 
Holly  with  you.  But  if  you  did,  you  know  the  rea- 
son why  now.  I  stayed  behind  only  to  do  what  I 
solemnly  promised  your  dear  mother  I  would  do. 
She  and  I  have  had  many  long  talks  in  the  last  few 
months,  and  she  told  me  things  that,  for  fear  of 
breaking  your  hearts,  she  could  never  talk  over  with 
you.  She  made  me  promise  that  when  the  time 
came  I  would  stay  at  home  and  make  the  parlor 
look  as  it  used  to  look  before  she  lost  her  health. 
She  said  to  me,  "  Lot,  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  the 
children  coming  home  to  this  bleak  room.  Unless 
it  is  changed  immediately,  they  will  always  asso- 
ciate my  sickness  with  it.  They  may  even  grow  td 
hate  it  and  the  house.  And  I  want  them  to  love 
the  place  where  I  have  spent  the  happiest  years  of 
my  life."  '  " 

Ann  stopped  a  moment.  But  she  gathered  her- 
self together  and  went  on. 

"  '  And  so  the  instant  you  had  gone,  I  took  Eliza 
and  Ellen  over,  we  went  from  cellar  to  attic  picking 
out  the  things  that  used  to  be  in  the  parlor  and  put- 
ting them  back  in  their  places.  I  knew  them  all  and 
just  where  they  belonged.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
much  happier  I  felt  when  the  room  began  to  look 
like  itself  again.  You  know,  for  I  have  told  you 
often  enough,  that  I  called  on  your  mother  the  day 
after  she  came  out  to  this  house  a  bride  and  that  we 
have  been  dear,  dear  friends  ever  since.  I  have 
spent  some  of  the  gayest  hours  of  my  life  in  that 


1 8  The  Home  Coming 

room.  Often  in  the  last  few  months  she  has  said  to 
me,  "  Lot,  I  want  'you  to  tell  them  all  the  funny 
things  that  have  happened.  Ed  and  Beckie  and 
Matt  will  remember  some  of  them,  Lainey  a  few, 
perhaps,  but  Ann  and  Roly  won't  recall  any. 
And  I  want  my  two  babies  to  know  how  happy  my 
life  with  their  father  was."  '  " 

At  the  word  "  babies,"  Ann's  voice  faltered,  but 
she  controlled  it.  Roland  gulped  too,  but  he  fol- 
lowed Ann's  example. 

"  *  And  indeed,  funny  things  did  happen.  Your 
mother  and  I  have  laughed  over  them  even  in  these 
last  sad  weeks.  You  see  your  mother  and  father 
were  happy  because  they  loved  each  other  genuinely. 
And,  oh,  how  they  loved  you !  Your  mother  wanted 
all  her  children.  That  is  the  reason,  I  sometimes 
think,  that  you  are  so  beautiful  and  happy  and  well. 
And,  oh,  she  was  always  so  proud  of  you.  "  I  never 
had  a  homely  baby,"  she  used  to  say.  And  it  was 
true ;  you  were  all  lovely  babies.  And  so  well !  All 
except  Ed — and  he  was,  just  as  soon  as  they  dis- 
covered they  were  not  giving  him  enough  to  eat.  I 
know  what  kind  of  babies  you  were,  for  I  helped  to 
take  care  of  all  of  you.  Many  a  winter  morning 
I've  given  Ed  his  bath  in  a  little  tin  tub  in  front 
of  the  fire  in  the  parlor.  How  he  did  splash! 
Your  mother  used  to  say  she  would  rather  wash  an 
eel.  Your  mother  was  a  beautiful  woman  in  those 
days.  She  was  the  picture  of  health  and  she  had 
such  high  spirits !  She  always  ran  upstairs ;  nobody 
could  induce  her  to  walk  and  she  always  sang  when 
she  was  alone.  One  night  we  were  playing  whist 
in  the  parlor,  your  mother  and  father,  old  Professor 
Marshall  and  myself.     Suddenly  your  mother  ex- 


The  Home  Coming  19 

cused  herself  and  went  upstairs  and  your  Aunt 
Martha  took  her  place.  We  heard  the  door  open 
and  shut  several  times,  but  nobody  paid  any  atten- 
tion to  that.  It  was  such  a  lively  house  in  those  days ; 
company  was  always  coming  and  going.  But  about 
midnight,  down  came  old  Nursey  Simmons.  She 
marched  up  to  your  father  and  said,  "  Mr.  Ollivant, 
Mrs.  Ollivant  begs  me  to  announce  to  you  that  at  last 
you  are  the  father  of  a  little  daughter."  It  was 
Beckie  who  broke  up  that  whist-party.  How  old 
Professor  Marshall  used  to  laugh  about  it.'  " 

11  Why,  I  never  heard  that  story,"  exclaimed 
Beckie.    And  for  the  first  time  that  day  she  smiled. 

"  '  Your  mother  was  crazy  with  delight  to  have  a 
girl  after  two  boys.  She  was  just  as  tickled  when 
Lainey  came.  She  used  to  worry,  though,  because 
Lainey  was  such  a  quiet  child.  M  It  doesn't  seem  nat- 
ural for  her  to  be  so  good,"  she  said  again  and  again. 
Heaven  knows  Ann  and  Roly  made  up  for  it  when 
they  came ;  they  were  so  mischievous  they  had  to  be 
watched  all  the  time.  I've  been  going  through  my 
letters  in  the  last  two  or  three  days.  We  used  to 
be  separated — your  mother  and  I — in  the  summer; 
but  she  used  to  write  me  beautiful  letters.  She  was 
one  of  those  people  who  like  to  write  letters  and  she 
told  me  just  the  things  I  wanted  to  know.  I  have  a 
great  many  of  them;  they're  almost  like  a  diary.  I 
came  across  all  kinds  of  things  inclosed  in  them: 
locks  of  hair  (oh,  Matt  had  such  wonderful  red 
curls;  your  mother  cried  when  they  cut  them  off), 
bits  of  lace  that  she  had  learned  to  do  (she  always 
made  her  baby  clothes,  herself),  samples  of  dresses 
she  was  going  to  have  (she  was  an  awfully  dressy 


20  The  Home  Coming 

woman,  you  know) .  I  inclose  a  picture  that  I  don't 
believe  you've  ever  seen.  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
it  myself.'  '* 

Ann  shook  the  letter.     "  Where  is  it?  "  she  said. 

II  Oh,  I  guess  it's  in  the  envelope.  Oh,  here  it  is." 
She  pulled  out  a  small  photograph,  a  tall  slender 
woman  seated,  a  little  girl  standing  beside  her  on 
a  chair.  M  Ann  at  three  years  and  ten  months,"  was 
written  underneath. 

The  Ollivants  clustered  about  it.  "  Oh,  isn't  that 
sweet  of  mother !  "  Beckie  exclaimed.  "  Mother 
was  a  pippin,  all  right!  "  Matt  remarked.  "What 
a  quaint  dress !  "  commented  Lainey.  "  I  remem- 
ber that  dress,"  said  Ed.  "  It  was  green." 
"Wasn't  I  a  cunning  little  girl?"  Ann  looked 
pleased  and  she  laughed  a  little  self-conscious  laugh. 

II I  never  saw  that  picture.  Don't  I  look  cross, 
though?" 

The  Ollivants  returned  to  their  seats.  Ann  re- 
turned to  the  letter. 

"  '  I  want  to  call  your  attention  to  the  look  on 
Ann's  face.  You  see  the  photographer  told  her  to 
watch  the  end  of  the  camera  to  see  the  little  bird 
fly  out.  They  always  told  lies  to  children  in  order 
to  keep  them  quiet;  the  exposure  was  longer  in  those 
days.  But  in  Ann's  case,  the  photographer  over- 
reached himself.  Ann  insisted  on  seeing  the  bird 
first.  The  photographer  tried  to  take  her  mind  off 
the  bird  by  showing  her  other  things.  Your  mother 
sang  to  her  and  told  her  stories.  But  it  was  no  use. 
See  that  bird,  she  would.  She  got  sulkier  and  sul 
kier.  Finally,  they  had  to  take  the  picture  with  that 
little  mad  look  on  her  face.  Your  mother  was  aw- 
fully disappointed.     But  afterwards  she   said  she 


The  Home  Coming  21 

liked  it  better  that  way  because  Ann  was  always  so 
cunning  when  she  was  naughty.1  " 

"  You  were  cunning  then,"  said  Beckie,  laughing. 
"  I  remember  perfectly.  You  were  an  awfully  mis- 
chievous baby." 

"  '  Now,'  "  the  letter  concluded,  " '  if  you  will  let 
me,  I  would  like  to  come  over  to-night  and  have 
dinner  with  you.  I  have  the  dinner  cooking  here — 
a  pair  of  chickens,  some  hot  biscuits,  jelly,  piccalilly, 
cake,  and  a  freezerful  of  ice-cream.  Eliza  and 
Ellen  will  bring  the  things  over.  And  then,  after 
dinner,  we'll  sit  together  in  the  parlor  and  I'll  read 
your  mother's  letters  to  you.  I've  hunted  up  all  the 
pictures  I  have  of  the  family  and  I'll  bring  them 
over  too.  Perhaps  you  will  prefer  to  stay  alone, 
but  I  think  you  will  want  to  do  this  when  I  tell  you 
your  dear  mother  planned  it  with  me.  When  you 
are  ready  for  me,  lift  the  curtain  and  I'll  start  over. 
Until  then,  good-by,  my  chicks.'  " 

"  Oh!  "  said  Ann  in  a  soft,  round  voice,  "  Oh!  " 
Her  face  sparkled  like  a  dewdrop.  The  others  sat, 
voiceless,  moveless.  But  Lainey's  sunken  wanness 
had  begun  to  color  and  fire.  The  dazed  perplexity 
was  dying  out  of  Roland's  eyes.  Beckie  and  Matt 
stared  hard  at  the  fire  as  though  a  succession  of  pic- 
tures out  of  the  happy  past  were  painting  themselves 
there.  Ed  alone  showed  no  change.  He  arose  and 
went  over  to  the  window. 

And  then,  with  his  hand  still  on  the  raised  curtain, 
Ed's  frozen  rigidity  broke.  His  head  dropped  into 
the  crook  of  his  elbow;  his  elbow  went  up  against  the 
wall:  he  shook. 

For  a  moment  not  a  sound  stirred  the  stillness: 
the  Ollivants  stared  terrified. 


22 


The  Home  Coming 


Then  a  log  dropped,  scattering  spluttery  rainbow 
spume.  The  kitten  leaped  to  the  floor  in  tinkling 
protest  against  this  anarchy.    The  bell  rang. 

Ed  lifted  his  head  from  his  arm,  hurried  buoy- 
antly to  the  door. 


CHAPTER  II 
STANDING  BY 

"TT  7ELL,  I  found  it,"  Mrs.  MacVeagh  called 

W  from  upstairs.  "I  spent  the  whole  morn- 
ing and  the  whole  afternoon  at  it,  and  just  as  I  was 
about  to  give  up  I  happened  on  the  peachiest  propo- 
sition." 

14 1  hope  you  didn't  tire  yourself  out,"  Ed  Ollivant 
called  back  to  her.  "  It's  pretty  stiff  work  going 
about  looking  at  apartments,  Rita." 

"  Oh  no !  I  had  the  car,  of  course !  "  The  voice 
was  descending;  it  was  accompanied  by  a  brilliant 
feminine  flutter  on  the  stairway.  "  And  there  were 
elevators  almost  everywhere."  Rita  had  now 
crossed  the  hall  to  the  doorway.  Standing  there, 
she  swept  a  profound  curtsy.  This  was  one  of  her 
tricks  when  she  wore  an  evening-gown.  If  she  were 
in  walking  costume,  her  hand  went  to  her  hat  in 
military  salute.  Now,  arms  outstretched,  she  held 
the  pose  for  a  moment.  "  Do  I  look  tired?  "  she 
demanded. 

Ed  Ollivant's  eyes  lingered  for  the  whole  of  that 
moment  on  the  drooping  figure  of  which  the  slender 
bust,  bare-armed,  bare-necked,  bare-shouldered, 
emerged  from  the  center  of  a  petal-like  satin  skirt 
and  the  oval  face,  pendent  to  a  mass  of  bronzed- 
brown  hair,  almost  touched  one  uplifted  satin  knee. 
11  No,  you  don't  look  tired,  Rita,"  he  answered. 

23 


24  Standing  By 

u  You  can't  imagine  what  the  places  were  like 
that  the  agent  showed  me.  I  never  was  so  dis- 
couraged in  my  life.  And  then  I  ran  into  Myra 
Crosby  and  she  told  me  about  a  place  in  the — 
where  do  you  suppose?  " 

11  Give  it  up,"  admitted  Ed. 

"  The  Channing  Building,"  announced  Rita  tri- 
umphantly. 

"The  Channing  Building,"  Ed  repeated.  He 
whistled. 

"  It's  not  anything  like  so  expensive  as  you  think. 
Now  listen.  It's  only  a  part  of  an  apartment,  any- 
way. People  by  the  name  of  Peyton  rented  the 
whole  apartment.  Then  both  their  children  went 
and  got  married  on  them.  They  had  rafts  of 
rooms  they  did  not  know  what  to  do  with;  so  they 
separated  three  from  the  bunch  and  are  letting  them. 
Of  course  their  place  is  not  connected  in  any  wai 
with  yours — I  mean  that  you  have  your  own  ei 
trance.  And  you  can  get  it  for  thirty-five  dollars 
a  month.  They  particularly  wanted  to  rent  it  to 
man." 

Ed  whistled  again.     "  Lord,  that  sounds  too  goo< 
to  be   true.     I'm  afraid  it'll  go  before  I   have 
chance  to  see  it.* 

"  I  was  too  foxy  for  that.  I  cinched  it.  Thei 
were  going  to  be  away  to-day;  but  I  said  you'd  come 
over  to-morrow  night  to  see  it.  It's  exactly  whal 
you  want.  One  big  room  for  a  living  room,  a  be< 
room,  a  kitchenette,  and  a  bath.  And  a  lovely 
view  over  the  Fenway.  Wait  a  moment !  I  drew 
a  plan  of  it  the  moment  I  got  home,  so  that  I  could 
plan  where  the  furniture  would  go.  It's  upstairs. 
Rita   flashed  out  of  the   room   and  fluttered  bri] 


Standing  By  25 

liantly  up  the  stairs.  M  If  there  is  anything  I  love 
to  do,  it's  to  plan  furnishings  and  things,"  she 
threw  this  over  the  banisters.  "  I  did  this  house, 
you  know,"  she  called  this  from  the  second  floor. 

Sitting  alone,  Ed  looked  about  him  as  though 
from  a  new  point  of  view.  The  big  room — it 
was  all  dull  grays  and  Gobelin  blues — was  more 
solidly  than  artistically  furnished.  The  broad- 
seated,  cushioned  couches,  the  wide-armed,  cush- 
ioned chairs,  the  big  tables  heaped  with  books  and 
magazines,  the  small  tables  that  offered  smokes 
and  drinks,  the  low  bookcases  with  their  foreign 
litter,  the  few  distinguished  pictures;  it  not  only  had 
the  masculine  touch,  it  had  all  the  ease  of  a  man's 
club.  But,  in  addition,  it  had  its  feminine  aspect, 
bushy-headed  golden  chrysanthemums  in  tall  opaque 
vases,  long-stemmed  violets  in  low  transparent 
bowls,  goldfish,  that  exactly  matched  the  fruit  of 
the  dwarf  orange-trees  in  the  window-boxes,  in  a 
big  bubble  of  glass  on  the  piano,  a  tea-wagon  which 
glittered  and  steamed  that  the  butler  had  just 
wheeled  in,  a  smoke-colored  Angora  kitten  with  a 
smashing  orange  bow  who  made  dashes  from  time 
to  time  at  inoffensive  shadows.  Everywhere  was 
the  repose  of  big  unencumbered  spaces  and  vistas, 
exquisite  cleanliness,  freshness,  comfort,  beauty — 
but  above  all  warmth — luscious,  voluptuous  warmth. 
A  fire  crackled  behind  the  glass  screen  which  cov- 
ered the  big  fireplace.  But  from  some  invisible 
source  heated  air,  constantly  freshened  by  the  breeze 
from  the  open  window  and  constantly  laden  with  the 
perfume  of  the  flowers,  flowed  in  volumes  upon  him. 

With  a  sudden  gesture  of  impatience  that  seemed 


26  Standing  By 

to  accent  a  sudden  reminiscent  scowl  on  his  face,  Ed 
seized  a  cigarette,  lighted  it. 

"  It  took  me  some  time  to  find  it!  "  This  came 
from  upstairs.  Again  came  the  brilliant  feminine 
flutter  on  the  stairway,  accompanied  by  the  clear 
lightness  of  Rita's  voice.  "  The  wallpapers  are 
simply  stunnning,  by  the  way."  Rita  dashed  into  the 
room,  papers  and  pencil  in  one  hand,  another  Angora 
kitten,  orange-colored  and  with  a  smashing  blue 
bow,  over  the  other  arm.  "  This  is  the  way  I  doped 
it  out."  Lustrous,  apricot-colored  gown,  sparkling 
slipper-tips,  slim,  gleamy  shoulders,  delicate  odor  of 
violets,  she  deposited  herself  beside  him  on  the 
couch.  Her  big,  white  hands — she  wore  rings  of 
diamonds  and  emeralds — made  a  swift,  vivid  panic 
among  the  papers.  "  There,  this  is  the  living- 
room.  My  idea  is  awfully  simple  furnishings,  but 
awfully  manny.  Low  bookcases  like  mine  built  in 
on  each  side  of  the  fireplace  and  a  big  couch  pulled 
up  in  front  of  it — oh,  a  couch  as  big  as  this — you'll 
have  to  have  that  made  to  order,  but  it's  the  only 
expensive  thing.  A  desk,  a  table,  two  or  three 
chairs — I'd  get  those  hour-glass  East  Indian  ones — 
they're  cheap  but  they  have  plenty  of  class.  For  the 
bedroom,  double  white-iron  beds  in  case  you  want 
to  entertain  a  guest.  In  an  emergency,  you  can  use 
the  big  couch  in  the  living-room.  Didn't  you  tell  me 
you  had  a  chiffonier?  " 

11  Yes,"  answered  Ed,  "  curly  maple." 
"  You'll  need  a  big,  wide  dresser.  We  can  easily 
match  it.  And  a  chair  or  two.  Oh,  I  meant  to  ask 
you!  Have  you  anything  else  of  your  own?  I 
mean  your  share  of  your  mother's  furniture.  Was 
there,  for  instance,  any  nice  old  mahogany?" 


Standing  By  27 

Rita  was  bending  over  the  paper.  Ed  was  bend- 
ing over  her.  He  stirred  as  though  uneasily.  Be- 
fore he  replied,  he  blew  a  volley  of  smoke-rings  over 
his  hostess's  head.  "Well,  of  course,  I  suppose 
there  is  a  share  of  the  household  furniture  coming 
to  me  if  I  wanted  to  claim  it.  And  some  of  it  is 
awfully  good.  I  mean  there's  one  beautiful  desk 
and  some  portraits.  But  I  wouldn't  like  to  take 
any  of  it  away.  It  puts  it  up  to  the  rest  of  the  fam- 
ily to  replace  it.  And  at  the  same  time,  I'd  rather 
like  to  have  some  new,  up-to-date  modern  stuff. 
Lord,  you  don't  know  how  I  long  for  the  con- 
veniences of  life." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  do.  I  know  exactly  how  you  long  for 
them.  I  was  brought  up  in  a  family  mausoleum  In 
West  Roxbury,  furnished  in  the  black  walnut  and 
hair-cloth  period.  There  wasn't  a  door  in  that 
house  smaller  than  a  half-acre,  or  a  window  lower 
than  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  and  you  could  only  see 
the  ceilings  with  the  aid  of  an  opera-glass.  We  had 
to  hire  a  derrick  to  move  the  furniture.  It  was 
furnished  with  every  mortuary  hideosity  of  the 
home,  including  waxed  funeral  wreaths.  The  at- 
mosphere was  almost  as  cheerful  as  a  receiving- 
tomb.  Maybe  I  didn't  yearn  for  new,  modern 
things.  When  I  married  Big  Chief  and  he  handed 
me  the  largest  check  I  ever  saw  and  said,  '  Go  as  far 
as  you  like,  Chicken,'  I  all  but  took  the  first  train 
out  to  Grand  Rapids.  Maybe  I  didn't  make  a  hole 
in  that  check.  But,  of  course,  it  didn't  take  me  long 
to  realize  that  antiques  are  the  smart  thing  now. 
I'm  going  to  refurnish  entirely  in  Jacobean  another 
year.  By  the  way,  have  you  told  your  sisters  that 
you  are  going  to  leave  yet?  " 


itanding  By 

Ed  stirred  again.  And  again,  before  he  spoke, 
he  sent  a  volley  of  smoke-rings  over  his  hostess's 
head.  "No,  I  thought  I  wouldn't  until  the  thing 
was  settled.       You  see " 

11  Oh,  I  got  this  furniture  catalogue  from  Daintry 
while  I  was  downtown,"  Rita  interrupted.  "  I 
thought  you  could  look  it  over  to-day.  Do  you  sup- 
pose they'll  feel  very  bad  about  it? 

"Well — of  course — I  suppose  they — at  least,  it 
would  be  only  natural "  Ed  was  not  stammer- 
ing. He  was  only  starting  up  successive  squirrel 
tracks,  translating  his  own  ideas  to  himself.  "  But 
it  isn't  as  if  it  was  going  to  make  any  difference 
financially,"  he  went  on,  beginning  again.  He  was 
voluble  enough  now  and  he  was  addressing  Rita. 
"  I'll  send  Beckie  a  check  every  week.  And  you 
see  three  of  them  are  independent:  Beckie  and  Ma1 
and  Lainey." 

"  Lainey's  the  teacher,  isn't  she?"  Rita  asked. 
"  What's  her  real  name?  " 

"  Elaine.  My  mother  was  very  romantic.  She 
took  it  out  on  every  other  child.  Rebecca, 
Matthew,  and  Ann  are  all  family  names,  but  she 
named  Elaine  after  Tennyson's  poems,  and  Roland 
after — search  me — Byron,  I  guess.  And  me — Lord, 
how  ashamed  I  used  to  be  of  it — after  Ravenswood. 
My  real  name's  Edgar.  And  many's  the  fellow's 
block  I've  knocked  off  for  calling  me  it.  Y< 
Lainey's  been  teaching  about  two  months." 

"Is  she  pretty?" 

"  I  don't  know.     I  never  thought  of  it." 

"Blonde  or  brunette?" 

"  Blonde,  I  should  say,"  Ed  answered  after 
interval  of  wrinkled  concentration.     "  Lainey's 


" 


Standing  By  29 

strange  girl.  I  don't  understand  her."  Ed's  calm 
broke  into  an  interval  of  sheer  perplexity.  "  She's 
quiet  and  serious — very  absent-minded — I  suppose 
you'd  call  her  dreamy.  She  studies  all  the  time — 
reads  Plato  and  Browning,  and  high-brow  stuff  like 
that.  She's  the  easiest  one  in  the  family  to  manage 
six  days  out  of  the  seven — then,  suddenly  you'll 
strike  an  obstinate  streak  and  nothing  can  move  her 
— I  don't  understand  her." 

11  The  two  younger  ones  are  in  High  School, 
aren't  they?  "  Rita  went  on. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ed. 

"  Len  Lorrimer  pointed  Ann  out  to  me  on  the 
street  the  other  day,"  said  Rita.  "  She's  awfully 
pretty,  isn't  she?" 

"Yes,"  Ed  admitted  reluctantly,  "but  she's  aw- 
fully hard  to  manage.  She's  one  of  those  girls 
who  want  everything  she  sees.  She's  smart  though 
— smart  as  a  whip — makes  her  own  clothes,  trims  her 
own  hats,  and  mixes  the  finest  salad  dressing  I  ever 
tasted."     Ed  conceded  these  facts  with  pride. 

"  I'm  glad,"  Rita  said,  "  that  you've  noticed  how 
pretty  she  is,  for  others  will  notice  it  soon  enough, 
let  me  tell  you.  Len  Lorrimer  got  it  all  right. 
She's  pretty  enough  to  eat.  And  perhaps  you'll  be 
interested  to  know  she's  a  brunette.  That  way  she 
does  her  hair  is  awfully  picturesque.  I  tried  it 
after  I  got  home,  but  it  was  very  unbecoming. 
What's  the  other  sister  like?     What  does  she  do?  " 

"  She's  in  a  dentist's  office,"  Ed  answered.  "  She 
seems  to  be  secretary " 

11  Is  she  pretty?" 

"  Not  exactly,"  Ed  answered.  "  But  Beckie  is 
very "     He  paused  and  did  not  finish.     A  film- 


30  Standing  By 

ing  stiffness  came  into  his  tone,  a  shadowing  hard- 
ness into  his  face.  It  was  as  though  he  began  to 
chafe  at  these  interrogatories. 

Mrs.  MacVeagh  changed  the  subject  immedi- 
ately. "  There,  this  is  the  kind  of  desk  I  want  you 
to  get.  It's  a  standard  pattern;  but  it's  big  and 
simple  and  convenient  without  suggesting  a  roll-top. 
You  can  go  to-morrow  evening  to  look  at  the  apart- 
ment, can't  you?  " 

"  Yes." 

14  And  I  think  you'd  better  tell  your  sisters  pret 


14  Yes,  I  will,"  said  Ed. 


"Where  are  you  going,  Ed?"  Beckie  asked  the 
next  night.  Freshly-shaven,  very  elegant  in  his 
correct  evening-clothes,  very  handsome  in  his  regu- 
lar blonde  featuring,  Ed  had  just  descended  from 
his  eyrie  chamber. 

44  Out,"  Ed  answered  briefly.  Beckie  alway 
asked  Ed  where  he  was  going  and  Ed  always  an 
swered,  44  Out."  In  fact,  Beckie  never  waited  for 
the  answer.  Lainey  and  Ann  would  never  have 
presumed  to  ask. 

44  There's  something  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about.' 
Beckie  lowered  her  voice,  looked  about  her.     ' 
don't  want  anybody  to  hear  us.     The  boys  are  up 
stairs  and  the  girls  are  doing  the  dishes.     Come  into 
the  parlor." 

Ed  followed  Beckie.     The  big,  front  room  was 
dusty  and  neglected-looking.     There  was  no  fire  in 
the  fireplace.    The  furnace  fire  had  gone  out  in  th 
afternoon.     Matt  had  rebuilt  it,  but  the  house  stil 
held  the  cold  in  corners — an  icy,  hollow,  paralyzin 


Standing  By  31 

cold.  The  girls  had  worn  blazers  to  the  table,  the 
boys  sweaters.  They  had  eaten  with  silver  that 
chilled  their  hands  and  from  plates  that  might  have 
been  disks  of  ice.  Ed  fastened  his  gray-silk  muffler 
about  his  neck,  seated  himself  in  one  of  the  straight- 
backed  chairs,  his  hat  and  stick  in  one  gloved  hand. 

Beckie  took  the  couch.  "  You  look  stunning, 
Ed,"  she  said  admiringly;  "  just  like  a  picture  in  a 
book."  Beckie  looked  far  from  "  stunning."  She 
was  the  least  attractive  of  the  handsome  Ollivant 
orphans.  She  had  pulled  the  yellow-and-brown 
worsted  afghan  about  her  shoulders;  its  wooly  tat- 
ters offered  no  mitigation  to  the  tired  creases  in 
her  dark,  high-cheekboned  face.  Her  serge  office 
dress,  worn  and  ready-made,  offered  no  mitigation 
to  the  straight  lines  of  her  square,  flat-chested  figure. 
"  It's  about  Roly,"  she  went  on  as  her  brother 
frowned  her  compliment  to  oblivion.  "  I  think  he's 
playing  truant  right  along." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?  "  Ed  asked. 

"Sh— sh— sh!"  exclaimed  Beckie.  "I  don't 
want  the  girls  to  hear." 

The  folding-doors  which  separated  the  parlor 
from  the  living-room  were  open.  Lainey  and  Ann 
had  come  in  from  the  kitchen  for  the  dessert-dishes. 

" — the  dance  the  Tuesday  afternoon  girls  are 
giving,  and  so  this  morning  her  aunt  went  to  Boston 
and  got  her  another  dress."  This  was  Ann's  round 
note.  "  Edwina  showed  it  to  me  this  afternoon. 
Oh,  Lainey,  it's  a  darling  and  so  smart.  That 
makes  four  evening-dresses  that  Edwina  Allen  has. 
Oh,  I  feel  so  poverty-stricken  and  so  out  of  it.  I'm 
ashamed  to  wear  that  old  plaid  dress  again.  Some- 
times I  think  I'd  do  almost  anything  for  some  of 


32  Standing  By 

the  pretty  things  I've  always  wanted.  I'm  sure  I'd 
steal  if  I  could  be  certain  I  wouldn't  be  found  out." 
Ann's  discontent  rasped  in  her  voice. 

"  But,  Ann,"  this  was  Lainey's  soft,  clear  accent, 
"  what  do  you  care  when  everybody  says  you're  the 
prettiest  girl  in  Brookline?  " 

11  Well,  of  course,  I'm  not  pretty,"  Ann  protested. 
"  My  mouth  is  too  big  and  there's  something  about 
the  left  side  of  my  profile  that  I  positively  hate.  But 
supposing  I  was  pretty,  then  it  seems  to  me  I  have 
all  the  more  right  to  some  pretty  clothes  once  in  a 
while." 

"  You're  the  prettiest  girl  I  ever  saw  in  my  life," 
said  Lainey,  her  flute-like  tones  filling  to  a  volume  as 
robust   as    her    conviction.     "  Your   eyes    are    like 

melted  gold,  and  your  complexion You're  so 

pretty  it  doesn't  make  a  particle  of  difference  what 
you  wear.  Edwina  Allen  never  saw  the  day  she 
could  compare  with  you.  And  no  matter  hov 
shabby  your  clothes  are,  they  always  look  differen 
from  other  girls',     you  know  how  to  wear  them." 

The  kitchen  door  cut  off  the  tail  of  this  discus- 
sion. 

Beckie  tiptoed  to  the  folding-doors  and  drew  them 
softly  together.  "  Two  days  ago,"  she  began,  turn 
ing,  u  Miss  Black  in  the  office  took  her  lunch-hour 
early.  When  she  got  back,  she  told  me  she'd  met 
Roly — she  knows  him  by  sight,  because  he's  come 
into  the  office  once  in  a  while.  I  thought  it  was 
mighty  queer  Roly's  being  on  Washington  Street  at 
twelve  o'clock.  English  High  doesn't  let  out  until 
two.  Well,  when  I  came  to  question  her,  she  wasn' 
quite  sure  it  was  Roly;  and  so  I  let  the  whole  thin 
slip  my  mind.     But  to-day,  as  I  was  standing  in  th 


Standing  By  33 

window,  I  saw  Roly  go  by  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street  with  two  boys.  That  Dink  Hardy  was  one  of 
them.  I  didn't  know  who  the  other  one  was. 
Well,  it  wasn't  a  holiday  because,  if  it  was,  Ann 
would  have  had  one.  I  haven't  said  anything  to  him 
yet,  because  I  thought  you'd  better.  He'd  pay  some 
attention  to  you." 

"  All  right,"  said  Ed,  rising  with  an  obvious  im- 
patience to  get  off.  "  I'll  talk  to  him  to-morrow 
morning.  But  don't  worry  about  this,  Beck.  All 
boys  hook  jack,  you  know." 

"  Oh  yes,"  Beckie  replied,  "  I  know  that.  I  used 
to  play  hookey  myself.  It  doesn't  worry  me  any. 
Only  if  he's  going  to  do  it  right  along,  he  might 
just  as  well  leave  school  and  go  to  work.  It  does 
seem  so  queer — neither  Roly  nor  Ann  take  the  least 
interest  in  their  studies.  Ann's  teacher  sent  her 
home  the  other  day  because  she  refused  to  write  a 
composition  on  *  The  Soliloquy  of  an  Umbrella.' 
Ann  says  she  can't  write — not  to  save  her  life.  Oh, 
I'm  so  glad  you're  here  to  cope  with  this.  I 
couldn't.     Good-night,  Ed." 

"  Oh,  this  is  great,  Rita,"  Ed  was  saying  an  hour 
later.  "  This  big  living-room  gets  my  game.  It's 
a  corker.  And  those  wide  windows  looking  off  on- 
to that  view.  And  the  window-seats  and  the  par- 
quet floors  and  the  papers  and  the  paint — and  that 
fireplace.  I  feel  like  a  grand  duke.  I  can  give 
some  pretty  classy  little  parties  up  here.  You've 
got  to  chaperon  them  all,  you  know,  Rita." 

'*  Sure,"  laughed  Rita.  "  That's  my  graft.  I'm 
going  to  run  this  joint.  I've  planned  a  house-warm- 
ing that  will  be  the  prettiest  party  you  ever  saw.     I 


34  Standing  By 

tell  you  what.  Just  as  soon  as  it  gets  warm  enough 
we  can  use  the  roof.  Let's  give  a  tango  party  up 
there.     Want  to  see  it?  " 

"  Crazy  to,"  smiled  Ed.  He  followed  her  out 
into  the  hall  and  up  a  narrow  stairway.  Another 
moment  and  they  were  leaning  against  the  coping, 
gazing  alternately  up  at  the  sky  and  down  on  the 
world.  Above  the  stars  lay  fine  and  thick,  like  piles 
of  silver  seeds.  Below  the  city  lamps  grew  large  and 
lush,  like  strange  tropical  flowers. 

"  The  automobiles  look  like  beetles,  don't  they?" 
Rita  commented.  "  See  how  fast  that  limousine  is 
going.  Oh,  that  reminds  me.  You'd  better  warn 
that  brother  of  yours — not  the  kid — the  red-headed 
one 

41  Matt,"  Ed  suggested. 

"  That's  the  one — he's  awfully  good-looking,  isn' 
he?     What  does  he  do?" 

"  He's  with  the  Chapman  Automobile  Company 
salesman,"  Ed  answered.     "  What  were  you  goin 
to  say  about  him?  " 

"  That  he'll  be  arrested  for  speeding  if  he  doesn' 
look  out.     We  met  him  last  night  in  Newton — Le 
Lorrimer  and  myself.    I  didn't  know  him,  of  course, 
but  Len  did.     They  were   going  at  a   great  clip. 
Newton's  full  of  traps,  you  know.' 

Ed  frowned.  "  If  I've  warned  him  once,  I've 
warned  him  a  dozen  times.  He  runs  with  a  man 
named  Walton  who  has  never  yet  recognized  the 
existence  of  the  speed  laws.  He'll  lose  his  license 
if  he  isn't  careful.     I'll  talk  to  Matt  to-night." 

"  How  do  you  like  Len  Lorrimer?  "  asked  Rita 
idly.  She  gave  a  quick  side-glance  at  her  compan- 
ion's face ;  her  glance  held  a  tinge  of  mischief. 


Standing  By  35 

"  Not  at  all,"  Ed  answered  briefly. 

M  Don't  you?"  Rita  flashed  a  second  side- 
glance;  this  one  held  a  tinge  of  complacency.  "I 
think  he's  great  fun." 

Ed  made  no  comment. 

"  What  kind  of  a  boy  is  your  younger  brother?  " 
Rita  asked.    "Roland?" 

M  Just  kid,"  Ed  answered  briefly.  "  Always  wear- 
ing my  ties  and  thinking  I  don't  know  it." 

11  Then  you're  not  disappointed  in  this  place  ?  " 
Rita  went  on. 

"Disappointed!"  Ed  exclaimed.  UI  feel  as  if 
it  were  the  beginning  of  something  I'd  never  known 
before.  It's  awfully  tough  on  a  man  to  have  to  live 
with  his  family,  you  know.  As  long  as  mother  was 
alive,  I  considered  that  it  was  up  to  me  to  stay.  But 
of  course  I've  never  been  able  to  entertain  at  all,  or 
to  do  anything  I  wanted.  They  wouldn't  mix  with 
my  friends  any  more  than  I'd  mix  with  theirs.  You 
always  feel  as  if  you  ought  to  tell  them  where  you're 
going  every  time  you  leave  the  house.  Not  that  I 
ever  do.  That  is,  mother  had  given  up  asking  me. 
But,  at  the  same  time,  you " 

"  Oh,  don't  apologize,"  Rita  said.  "  I  under- 
stand perfectly.  When  I  tell  you  that  my  mother 
was  president  of  a  woman's  club,  that  one  sister  was 
an  anti-suffragist  and  the-  other  an  anti-vivisectionist, 
perhaps  you  get  the  dope  on  my  home  atmosphere. 
I  had  too  many  red  corpuscles  in  me  for  that  high- 
brow atmosphere.  I  had  about  made  up  my  mind 
that  I'd  quit,  even  if  I  had  to  earn  my  own  living. 
Then  Big  Chief  came  along  and  rescued  me.  Oh, 
by  the  way,"  she  turned  her  face  up  to  his  as  she 
pulled  the  collar  of  her  leopard-coat  closer  about 


36  Standing  By 

her  throat;  her  shining  head — to-night  she  wore 
her  hair  banded  close — lifted  like  a  seal's  from 
water,  "  have  you  told  your  sisters  yet?" 
11  Not  yet,"  Ed  said.  "  I  forgot  it  last  night." 
u  I  think  you'd  better  tell  them."  Rita  smiled. 
Her  white  teeth  made  a  brilliant  sally  into  the  shad- 
owed softness  of  her  face.  "  They  may  change 
their  plans  a  little  if  they  know  you're  not  going  to 
be  with  them." 

When  Ed  let  himself  into  the  house  that  night, 
the  light  was  still  burning  in  the  parlor. 

"  Oh,  Ed!"  Beckie  exclaimed,  starting  up. 
11  Thank  heavens,  you've  come  !  " 

"  What's  up?  "  Ed  asked.  "  What's  the  matter 
With  you,  Ann?  " 

Ann,  lying  face  downward  on  the  couch,  was  torn 
by  spasms  of  weeping.  She  sobbed  aloud.  And 
Lainey,  seated  near,  the  tears  standing  in  great 
drops  at  the  tips  of  her  long  lashes,  panted  and 
quivered  in  sympathy. 

"  Matt's  been  arrested  for  speeding,"  Beckie  ex- 
plained. "  He  telephoned  from  the  police-station 
for  you  to  come  down  and  bail  him  out.  That  was 
at  ten.  We've  been  waiting  here  for  you  ever 
since." 

14  The  damn  fool !  "  said  Ed.  "  The  damn — -" 
And  suddenly  Ed's  smooth  brow  corrugated  with 
fury.  "  Everybody  has  told  him  that  he'd  get 
pinched.  I've  warned  him  a  dozen  times  myself. 
Where's  Walton?" 

11  Out  of  town — Matt  didn't  know  where.     I 
was  afraid  to  call  up  the  Walton  house  because 
Dave  had  lent  him  his  car  without  telling  his  folks. 


Standing  By  37 

Do  hurry  down  there,  Ed.  He  didn't  happen  to 
have  any  money  with  him.  He  hasn't  had  any 
dinner  yet." 

"  And  he  won't  get  any  breakfast  either,"  said 
Ed.  "  At  least  not  until  late  to-morrow  morning. 
I'm  not  going  to  bail  him  out  to-night.  Why,  he  told 
me  only  last  week  that  that  park  policeman — the 
fat,  good-natured  one — had  stopped  him  twice  and 
told  him  he'd  pinch  him  unless  he  cut  it  out.  I'm 
glad  they  jugged  him.  It  will  be  a  good  lesson  to 
him.  One  night  in  a  cell  with  a  fine  of  ten  dollars 
in  the  morning  will  take  the  speed  out  of  him 
quicker  than  anything  I  know." 

"  Oh,  Ed,"  Ann  broke  into  another  volley  of  sobs, 
"  how  can  you  treat  him  so?  I  cannot  bear  to  think 
of  Matt  in  a  little  narrow,  smelly  cell.  And  such 
a  hard  bed.  And  oh,  what  a  terrible  disgrace.  It 
will  be  in  all  the  papers,  *  Items  about  Boston.'  " 

Even  Ed's  brow  relaxed.  "  Speeding  is  not  a 
hanging  matter,  Ann.  People  are  received  in  the 
best  society  even  after  a  third  offense." 

11  Ed,  I  think  you're  just  too  mean  for  words," 
Lainey  said,  the  flash  in  her  eyes  dissipating  the 
dew  on  their  lashes.  "  If  I  only  knew  anybody  who 
would  bail  him  out,  I'd  appeal  to  him  even  at  this 
hour." 

11  I'm  very  glad  you  don't,  Lainey,"  Ed  said 
grimly,  u  because  I'm  determined  to  give  the  sport 
of  the  family  the  lesson  of  his  young  life." 

11  But  don't  you  think  you're  rather  hard  on  him, 
Ed?"  Beckie  said  placatingly.  "  He's  been  there 
four  hours  now.  We  telephoned  everywhere  for 
you,  Ed.    Where  were  you?  " 

11  Calling,"  Ed  answered  tersely. 


38  Standing  By 

"  And  four  hours  ought  to  take  all  the  spunk 
out  of  him."  Beckie  stopped  and  consulted  her 
brother's  face.  Apparently  she  gathered  no  hope 
from  what  she  saw  there ;  for  she  said  in  a  resigned 
tone,  "  Come  to  bed,  girls.  It's  no  use  trying  to 
argue  with  Ed  when  he  looks  like  that.  Besides,  I 
must  be  up  by  six  to  get  breakfast.  I'm  tired  as  a 
dog." 

Becjcie  looked  tired.  The  hollows  under  her 
bright  dark  eyes  were  so  deep  they  might  have  been 
gouged  out.  All  the  lines  of  her  face  sagged  in 
harmony  with  the  droop  of  her  shoulders. 

The  three  girls  followed  their  brother  upstairs. 
M  I  shan't  close  my  eyes  to-night,"  whimpered  Ann. 
"  I  shall  keep  seeing  poor  Matt  in  prison  stripes 
with  his  face  pressed  against  the  bars  of  his  cell." 

II  Well,  I  shan't  sleep  either,  but  it's  because  I'i 
so  mad,"  sputtered  Lainey. 

II I  don't  know  but  what  you're  right,  Ed," 
Beckie  said  after  the  girls'  door  had  slammed  shut 
11  It  will  be  a  lesson  to  him.  I'm  so  glad  you  cam< 
home  to-night.  I  was  so  worried — I  don't  kno^ 
what  I  would  have  done  without  you.  I  do  hop< 
the  girls  get  some  sleep,  but  I'm  afraid  they  won'l 
I'm  so  tired — I  could  sleep  standing  up." 

But,  in  point  of  fact,  Ann  fell  immediately  into 
the  soft  thick  kitten-like  slumber  which  she  could 
command  at  any  time.  Lainey  followed  her,  al- 
most as  quickly,  into  a  dreamland  as  light  and  clear 
and  gay  as  the  fairy  country  of  her  childhood.  Ed 
tossed  and  turned  for  a  protracted  fifteen  minutes 
and  then,  after  a  muttered  curse  or  two,  dropped 
into  that  well  of  oblivion  to  which  ordinarily  his 
closed  eyes  immediately  admitted  him.    But  Beckie 


Standing  By  39 

after  lying  silent  and  moveless  for  three  or  four 
hours,  arose.  Seating  herself  at  the  window,  she 
watched  until  the  sunrise  began  to  gild  the  little 
Place  with  scanty  winter  gold. 

"  I'm  glad  you  decided  the  way  you  did,"  Rita 
said,  three  or  four  days  later  as  they  sped  in  her 
limousine  up  Boylston  Street.  "  Of  course,  the  other 
desk  would  have  done.  At  the  same  time,  I  don't 
think  you  ever  would  have  been  satisfied  with  it  after 
seeing  the  more  expensive  one.  There's  no  economy 
in  buying  a  thing  you  don't  want.  My  poor  rela- 
tions have  houses  filled  with  lemons  that  I've  bought 
when  I  had  an  economy  bug.  Now  I  always  get 
the  thing  I  want — and  do  the  economizing  after- 
wards." 

11  Oh  yes,  there  was  nothing  to  it,"  agreed  Ed. 
"  After  I  saw  that  mahogany  one,  it  was  all  off  with 
the  oak." 

"  I  think  we've  been  doing  pretty  well  with  this 
shopping,"  Rita  went  on,  "  considering  that  we've 
only  had  your  lunch-hour." 

u  I  should  say  we  had,"  said  Ed  with  conviction, 
11  but  of  course  it's  all  you.  I  never  could  have  done 
it  so  well  without  your  help.  I  never  can  repay 
you." 

"  How  about  all  those  free  eats  you've  been  giv- 
ing me?"  said  Rita.  "Anyway,  you  don't  have  to 
repay  me.  I've  loved  every  moment  of  it.  Have 
you  told  your  sisters  yet?  "  she  asked  after  a  pause. 

"  No,  I  haven't,"  admitted  Ed. 

"  I  really  think  you  ought  to  tell  them,"  said  Rita. 

"  I  suppose  I  should  have,"  said  Ed  slowly,  "  but 
I  don't  want  to  take  any  definite  step  until  every- 


: 


40                           Standing  By- 
thing  is  fixed  up.     For  if  there  was  any  hitch,  it 
would  be  just  as  well " 

11  But  what  hitch  could  there  be "     A  rising 

note  of  alarm  reached  a  crescendo  on  Rita's  last 
word.     "  You're  going  to   sign  the  lease   for  th 
apartment  to-morrow  noon." 

"  None  that  I  can  see,"  answered  Ed.  "  I'll  tel 
them  to-night." 

"  No  more  shopping  this  noon,"  decided  Rita, 
14  or  you  won't  get  back  at  two.  Just  time  for  a 
little  spin  in  the  Fenway."  She  snuggled  back  into 
her  opulent  sables.  "  Isn't  it  a  beautiful  day?  And 
isn't  it  great  to  be  young?  Somehow  I  feel  so  gay." 
She  turned  her  eyes  up  to  Ed's.  "  Ed,  do  you  know 
you're  a  good-looking  thing?  And  just  think  you're 
going  to  have  rooms  of  your  own." 

Ed  turned,  gazed  at  his  companion.  Rita  wa 
physically  brilliant,  but  she  was  a  cold  type.  She  was 
like  a  light  which  gives  illumination  without  heat. 
Now  an  extraordinary  animation — an  animation 
pointed  by  triumph — gave  her  a  misleading  effect 
of  warmth.  Her  ivory  cheeks  glowed,  her  hazel- 
yellow  eyes  glistened,  her  bronze-brown  hair  glit- 
tered; it  seemed  almost  to  crackle.  The  wind 
whipped  her  lips  to  a  brilliant  crimson.  "  You're 
something  of  a  looker  yourself,  Rita,"  Ed  said. 
"I  can  gaze  at  you  without  straining  my  eye  muscles 
any.  Yes,"  he  added,  as  though  her  look  held  some 
voiceless  question,  "  I'll  tell  them  at  dinner." 

"Where's  Ann?"  Ed  asked  that  night  when  h( 
seated  himself  at  the  table. 

11  Why,  I  don't  know,"  Beckie  answered.  "  Sh< 
went  into  Boston  to  do  some  errands  for  me.     . 


I 


Standing  By  41' 

can't  guess  what  could  keep  her  as  late  as 
this."  Beckie  articulated  with  difficulty;  she  was 
hoarse. 

"  Where'd  you  get  that  cold,  Beckie?  "  Ed  asked. 

"  Oh,  the  other  night,"  Beckie  said  evasively. 

"  Well,  now  that  we're  all  together,"  Ed  began 
in  an  awkward  voice,  "  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
to-day  I " 

"  Oh!  "  Lainey  exclaimed,  as  though  Ed's  words 
had  hit  an  unexpected  mark  in  her  own  thoughts, 
"  that  reminds  me  I  bought  something  to-day." 
Lainey  was  obviously  happy  over  her  purchase. 
"  What  do  you  suppose  it  was?  " 

"  What  was  it?"  Beckie  asked. 

"  A  man  came  round  to  all  the  teachers  in  the 
school,"  Lainey  began  in  her  preoccupied,  circum- 
locutionary  way,  "  selling  the  most  remarkable  bar- 
gains in  books  on  the  instalment  plan.  They're 
beautifully  illustrated;  but  as  they're  in  paper 
covers,  they  only  cost  fifty  cents  apiece.  The  man 
pointed  out  that  you  could  get  them  bound  for  a 
song.  I  engaged  to  take  three  a  month."  Lainey's 
eyes  overflowed  with  that  blue  light  which  in  mo- 
ments of  enthusiasm  rescued  them  from  oblivion. 

"  How  many  volumes  are  there?  "  asked  Roland. 

11  Forty-five,"  Lainey  answered,  with  the  triumph 
of  those  who  bargain  well. 

"  Forty-five  !  "  exclaimed  Matt.  It  was  the  first 
sign  of  real  vivacity  from  the  chastened  Matt  who 
had  emerged  from  a  prison  cell. 

11  Forty-five !  "  croaked  Beckie.  "  Why  it  will 
take  fifteen  months  to  pay  for  them." 

1  Yes;  but  I  shan't  notice  it,"  said  Lainey  sweetly. 
"The  man  said  I  wouldn't." 


42  Standing  By 

"  Whose  works  are  they?  "  Ed  asked. 

14  Longfellow's,"  answered  Lainey  triumphantly 

11  Longfellow  in  forty-five  volumes !  "  exclaimec 
Ed.    "Oh,  my  ft*/" 

"  Oh,  Lainey  dear !  "  said  Beckie  in  a  misery  tha 
pierced  her  hoarseness.  M  Forty-five  volumes  a 
fifty  cents.  That's  nearly  twenty-three  dollars 
Why  did  you  do  it?  Why  didn't  you  wait  and  asl 
our  advice." 

"Well,  I  thought  of  doing  that,"  Lainey  ex 
plained,  "  but  the  man  seemed  to  want  me  to  decid  : 
right  away.  And  then  he  was  so  awfully  nice.  H : 
went  to  the  greatest  trouble  to  explain  it  all  oui . 
And  after  he  talked  for  a  half  an  hour,  I  sort  of  fe' : 
obliged — I  can  really  give  you  no  idea  how  accon  • 
modating  he  was.  He  seemed  to  think  it  would  h< 
me  so  much  in  my  teaching.  He  said  that  he  ha< 
set  in  his  own  home  and  his  children  simply  woi 
not  read  anything  else." 

Ed  groaned.  M  Lainey,"  he  said,  "  you've  g( 
against  a  game  that  you'll  be  up  against  for  the 
of  your  life.  Business  men  are  visited  every  he 
of  the  day  by  agents  who  want  to  sell  them 
thing  from  a  corkscrew  to  an  aeroplane.  Teache 
in  especial,  are  their  marks  because  you're  the  e; 
est  people  in  the  world.  Now  probably  those  boc 
are  illustrated  from  plates  left  over  from  some 
tion  of  Longfellow  brought  out  before  the 
And  think  of  having  forty-five  volumes  of  any  oi 
poet!  At  that  rate,  you'd  have  to  hire  Mechanic  ;' 
Hall  for  your  library.  You'll  be  stung  every  we 
if  you  don't  look  out.  The  only  thing  for  a  pers<  i 
as  dopey  as  you  to  do  is  simply  to  refuse  to  ta 
to  the  agents.     Once  you  begin  to  listen " 


Standing  By  43 

This,  at  six  forty-five,  was  the  beginning  of  a  long 
harangue  of  advice.  It  was  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance of  Ann  at  seven. 

"What  makes  you  so  late,  Ann?"  Beckie  de- 
manded in  a  peremptory  accent.  Perhaps  Beckie 
wanted  to  draw  attention  from  Lainey's  crushed 
condition. 

M  I've  had  the  loveliest  time."  Ann  was  excited. 
She  was  all  light  and  warmth.  Her  great  eyes 
were  blazing  golden  moons.  Her  round  cheeks 
were  burning  rose  velvet.  Everything  else  about 
her  shone  or  shimmered.  Her  very  teeth,  between 
the  full  scarlet  of  her  lips,  made  a  soft  flash  like 
silver.  "  No,  don't  help  me  to  any  stew,  Ed.  I 
couldn't  eat  a  thing.  What  do  you  think — I've  been 
out  to  tea.  At  the  Plaza.  Oh,  wasn't  it  pretty. 
Such  smart  clothes.  And  such  pippins  of  girls! 
Lainey,  there  was  a  girl  there  who  wore  a  green 
broadcloth,  trimmed  with  moleskin,  that  was  the 
loveliest  thing  I  ever — And  a  lot  of  Harvard  men 
at  a  table  in  the  corner.  Wasn't  it  a  shame  that 
I  didn't  have  on  my  other  hat!  But  I  went  into 
the  Ladies'  Room  and  fixed  up  my  hair.  Oh,  such 
a  lovely  place — they  had  all  kinds  of  cosmetics 
there.  One  girl  made  her  face  up  right  before  my 
eyes  and  another  was  smoking  a  cigarette — I  saw  it 
hidden  behind  her  hand." 

"But  who  took  you?  "  asked  Beckie. 

14  Len  Lorrimer,"  said  Ann,  "  and,  oh,  he  was 
just  perfectly  lovely  to " 

"Len  Lorrimer!"  Ed  exclaimed  electrically. 
M  What  do  you  mean,  Ann?  " 

"Why!"  Ann  exclaimed.  "  Why— why— what 
do  I  mean?    I  don't  know  what  you  mean.     I  met 


44  Standing  By 


, 


Mr.  Lorrimer  on  Boylston  Street  and  he  asked  me 
to  go  to  tea  and  I  went." 

"  You  went  to  tea  with  Len  Lorrimer?  "  Ed  ar- 
raigned her  sternly.  "  Don't  you  know  he's,  a  mar- 
ried man?  " 

11  Why,  yes,"  said  Ann.  "  Of  course  I  do.  Every- 
body knows  it.  But  he's  separated  from  his  wife 
and  everybody  knows  that  too." 

"  But  he's  not  divorced  from  her,"  said  Ed,  "  and 
he  never  will  be.  He  can't  get  a  divorce.  He 
knows,  as  everybody  knows — Don't  let  me  ever  hear 
of  your  going  anywhere  with  him  again." 

Ann  tossed  her  head.  "  I  don't  see  why  I 
shouldn't,"  she  said  rebelliously.  "  He's  been  sep- 
arated from  her  so  long  nobody  looks  upon  him 
as  married." 

"  Nevertheless,"  Ed  ordered  crisply,  "  he  is  ma 
ried.     Don't  let  me  hear  of  you  going  anywhere 
with  him  again."  I  I 

The  gaiety  melted  out  of  Ann's  face,  taking  the 
light  with  it.     It  hardened  as  it  darkened.     "  He 
invited  me  to  go  to  the  matinee  with  him  next  wee 
Now  why  shouldn't  I  go?    I  want  to." 

11  Simply  because,"  Ed  said  in  a  tone  iron  wi 
command,  "  unmarried  people  can't  go  about  wi 
married  people  without  making  talk." 

"Well,  then,"  Ann  flashed  triumphantly,  "ho 
about  you  and  Mrs.  MacVeagh?  I  saw  you  comi 
out  of  the  Touraine  with  her  once  during  the  te 
hour.  And  I  don't  know  how  many  times  Laine; 
and  I  have  seen  you  riding  alone  with  her  in  he 
automobile.  If  it's  all  right  for  you  to  go  place 
alone  with  Mrs.  MacVeagh,  why  isn't  it  all  righ 
for  me  to  go  alone  with  Mr.  Lorrimer?  " 


Standing  By  45 

A  brickish-red  flush  rose  slowly  over  Ed's  smooth 
face;  it  flowed  turgidly  under  his  golden  hair.  But 
he  held  Ann  with  the  steady  gaze  of  his  frigid  blue 
eyes.  "  That's  quite  a  different  matter,  Ann,"  he 
said.  "  In  the  first  place,  I  am  quite  as  much 
Mr.  MacVeagh's,  as  Mrs.  MacVeagh's,  friend.  It 
would  be  impossible  for  me  to  compromise  Mrs. 
MacVeagh;  it  would  be  presumption  for  me  to 
think  so.  Her  social  position  is  absolutely  estab- 
lished; her  character  above  reproach.  I  am  only 
one  of  half  a  dozen  men  to  whom  she  is  equally 
hospitable.  She  has  absolutely  nothing  to  lose  by 
accepting  my  escort  when  her  husband  is  away;  and 
I  have  a  great  deal  to  gain.  Lorrimer,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  the  kind  of  man  I  don't  want  my  sister  to 
be  seen  with.  He  will  lose  nothing,  of  course,  by 
taking  you  about;  but  it  will  hurt  you  with  every- 
body who  knows  him.  If  it  is  necessary,  Ann,  I 
will  tell  you  everything  I  know  about  Lorrimer. 
But  you  won't  want  to  discuss  the  subject  very 
long." 

11  Still,"  Lainey  broke  in  stormily,  "  after  all  the 
principle  is  the  same.  And  you  wouldn't  let  Ann 
go  about  with  Len  Lorrimer,  even  if  his  wife  liked 
it.  I  cannot  see  that  it  is  any  more  right  for  you 
than  for  her." 

Of  all  the  Ollivants,  Lainey  seemed  superficially 
the  most  silent,  colorless,  and  uncharacterized.  But 
she  had  the  knack  of  asking  perturbing  questions. 
Ed,  for  instance,  was  often  nonplused  by  her 
queries.  Now  a  look — obviously  it  was  bafflement 
— came  into  his  face.  "  It  all  depends  on  circum- 
stances, Lainey,"  he  said.  "  And  these  two  cases 
could  never  be  parallel." 


Standing  By 

But  Ed  did  not  bring  up  the  matter  of  leaving 
the  family  roof  during  dinner.  Perhaps  he  did  not 
wish  to  introduce  the  name  of  MacVeagh  into  the 
conversation  again.  After  dinner,  Matt  and  Roland 
disappeared  in  the  direction  of  their  various  inter- 
ests. Lainey  and  Ann  received  Edwina  Allen 
and  Dottie  Franklin;  the  quartette  vanished  behind 
the  closed  doors  of  their  bedroom.  Nothing  came 
from  their  direction  but  giggles.  Beckie  built  a  fire 
in  the  parlor,  seated  herself  on  the  couch  there.  She 
drew  the  big  darning-basket  to  her  side,  gave  the 
kitten  an  empty  spool  to  play  with,  and  fell  to  work. 
Her  cold  bothered  her;  she  did  not  seem  inclined 
to  talk.  Ed  wandered  from  the  living-room 
to  the  dining-room,  from  the  dining-room  to  the 
kitchen,  from  the  kitchen  to  the  living-room  again, 
his  head  bent,  his  brow  moody  with  wrinkles. 

Once,  "  Oh,  Ed,"  Beckie  croaked,  "  what  would 
I  have  done  about  Ann  if  you  hadn't  been  here 
She's  so  headstrong,  I  can't  make  her  toe  the  mark 
And  I  hate  that  Len  Lorrimer;  he's  a  snake  in  th 
grass." 

A  deep  silence  followed.    Ed  resumed  his  lone 
pacing. 

Suddenly  he  dashed  out  of  the  house.  At  a  ru 
he  made  for  the  drug-store  on  the  corner,  pantec 
into  the  telephone  box.  "  Give  me  Back  Bay  8786,' 
he  said:  and  at  the  end  of  an  interval  in  which  h< 
stared  frigidly  into  space,  "  Is  this  you,  Rita?  Say 
Rita,  I've  called  you  up  to  tell  you  it's  all  off  abou 
the  apartment — Yes,  I  know,  but  it  can't  be  helpec 
— Yes,  I  understand,  but  it's  impossible — Yes 
you're  perfectly  right,  but  it's  out  of  the  question- 
Yes,  that's  true,  but  it  can't  be  done — Yes,  I  get  al 


Standing  By  47 

that,  but  I  can  dispose  of  it  in  some  way — All  right, 
I'll  explain  when  I  see  you." 

Ed  sauntered  leisurely  back  to  the  house,  let  him- 
self leisurely  in.  Beckie's  darning  still  absorbed 
her.  After  an  interval,  she  turned  to  her  basket, 
fumbled  a  moment  among  its  mending  miscellanies. 
A  letter  eddied  up  from  among  the  spools  and 
darning-cotton,  came  to  the  surface  of  the  stockings. 

"Why!"  Ed  exclaimed,  "that's  Aunt  Mar- 
garet's  handwriting,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Beckie.  She  dropped  her  eyes  and, 
as  though  involuntarily,  pushed  the  letter  under  the 
stockings. 

"  Why,  I  didn't  know  you'd  heard  from  her," 
Ed  said  in  a  surprised  tone.  "  What's  she  got  to 
say?" 

"Nothing."  Even  with  her  hoarseness,  it  was 
to  be  seen  that  Beckie's  manner  was  offhand. 

"Well— can  I  read  it?"  Ed's  tone  was  a  little 
nonplused. 

"  Oh,   there's  nothing  in  it,   I— I "     Beckie 

was  stammering — quick,  curt,  decisive  Beckie.  "  It 
wouldn't  interest  you." 

"Beckie,  what's  the  answer  to  all  this?"  Ed 
demanded.  "  Don't  you  want  me  to  see  that 
letter?" 

For  answer,  Beckie  held  it  out  to  him.  He  pulled 
a  closely-written  sheet  out  of  the  envelope : 

My  dear  Niece: 

Your  dear  mother  has  been  dead  for  three  months  now 
and  I  think  the  family  must  be  in  good  running  order  by 
this  time.  Perhaps  what  I  am  going  to  say  in  this  letter  may 
sound  premature;  but  as  I  must  say  it  sooner  or  later,  I 


48  Standing  By 


might  just  as  well  say  it  now.  You  know  that  you  were 
named  after  my  mother;  and  you  also  know,  for  I  have  told 
you  often  enough,  that  you  are  my  favorite  niece.  Of  course 
we  have  all  known  for  several  years  that  your  mother's  days 
were  numbered.  I  made  up  my  mind  some  years  ago  that 
when  the  time  came,  I  would  ask  you  to  come  and  live  with 
me.  I  am  often  very  lonely  and  I  should  like  your  com- 
panionship very  much.  In  that  case,  I  should  discharge 
Matty,  but  although  you  and  I  would  do  the  housewori 
together,  I  should  insist  upon  paying  you  what  I  pay  her — 
eight  dollars  a  week.  I  am  sure  that  is  more  than  youi 
present  salary — minus  your  contribution  to  the  householc 
expenses — amounts  to.  And  of  course,  when  I  die,  my  little 
house  and  what  I  have  in  the  bank  will  go  to  you.  If 
however,  you  cannot  see  your  way  clear  to  accept  this  offer 
I  shall  make  no  changes  in  my  present  will,  which  divide 
my  money  equally  among  my  living  relatives.  Please  let  1 
know  as  soon  as  possible  what  your  decision  is. 
Your  affectionate  aunt, 

Margaret  Foster. 

11  Good  Lord,  Beckie !  "  exclaimed  Ed,  "  whe 
did  you  get  this?  November  eighteen.  Last  Mon 
day.  You  must  say  yes  to  that,  Beckie.  It's  a  grea 
opportunity.     When  are  you  going  to  answer  it? 

"  I  have  answered  it,"  said  Beckie.    "  I  refused 
She  resumed  her  tranquil  darning. 

"  Beckie,"  Ed  broke  the  silence  after  a  Ion 
while,  "  what  made  you  refuse?  " 

11  Because  I  wouldn't  leave  you  alone  with  all  th 
responsibility,  Ed,"  said  Beckie. 

Ed  mused  an  instant,  his  frigid  gaze  on  the  dis 
tance.      "Well,    Beckie,"    he    said    at   last,    "y 
can  be  sure  of  one  thing.    Til  never  leave  you." 


CHAPTER  III 
ANN  TAKES  CHARGE 

"TF  there's  anything  in  this  world  that  I  hate,  it's 
X  housework.  There  isn't  one  single  thing  about 
it  that  I  like — except  ironing  pretty  things  and 
making  desserts  and  salads.  Washing  I  detest, 
sweeping  I  despise,  dusting  I  abominate,  doing 
dishes  I  loathe,  and  as  for  getting  up  as  early  as 
this  I — Just  as  soon  as  I'm  twenty-one,  I'm  going 
on  the  stage.  I  think  I'd  like  to  go  into  musical 
comedy.  I  can  sing  a  little  and  I  pick  up  dancing- 
steps  just  as  easy.  I  know  as  well  as  I  know  my 
name  I'm  not  domestic.  I've  altogether  too  much 
temperament.  Len  Lorrimer  told  me  that  the  day 
I  went  out  to  tea  with  him.  I  just  hate  the  kind  of 
life  I  lead  here." 

This  was  the  end  of  a  long  matutinal  harangue 
from  Ann.  Now  she  stopped  an  instant,  but  it  was 
obviously  only  to  catch  her  breath.  She  sat  in  one 
of  the  kitchen  chairs,  tilted  back  against  the  wall, 
her  big  hands  clasped  behind  her  head,  one  foot 
under  her,  and  the  other  swinging  a  shabby  buckled 
shoe  from  its  tip.  She  wore  a  little  kimono  of 
dimity,  delicately-figured  and  lace-edged,  a  boudoir 
cap  of  a  coarse-meshed  imitation  Cluny  trimmed 
with  pink  ribbons.  The  kimono  showed  a  V  of  vel- 
vet neck;  the  cap  unloosed  great,  rich  scallops  of 
shining  hair.    Her  snowy  arms  came  out  of  her  wide 

49 


5<d  Ann  Takes  Charge 

sleeves,  round  with  a  giiTs  soft  shapeliness,  yet 
potential  somehow  of  a  boy's  muscular  strength. 
A  flush,  deeper  than  her  normal  rose-pink,  hung 
heavy  behind  her  skin.  Her  big  eyes  threw  sparks 
that  were  not  entirely  the  effect  of  the  light  on  her 
golden  irises. 

It  was  cheerless  within  and  without.  The  fire  had 
begun  to  crackle,  but  the  little  kitchen  had  not 
warmed  up  yet.  The  frosty  window-panes  gave 
fore-shortened,  wabbly  glimpses  of  a  back  yard 
swathed  in  snow  and  dotted  with  shapeless  bushes. 
Last  night's  dishes  were  heaped  in  the  sink.  A 
big  pot  of  something  green  and  odorous  was  be- 
ginning to  stew  on  the  stove.  Lines  of  high,  green 
glass  jars  stood  on  the  table.  Beckie — a  long-sleeved 
apron  concealing  all  but  the  hem  of  her  blue-serge 
dress — pattered  from  sink  to  stove  and  from  stove 
to  table.  Lainey  stood  irresolutely  about,  managing 
only  in  every  effort  to  efface  herself,  to  get  in  some- 
body's way.  I 

11 1  can't  think  who  could  have  been  such  an  idiot 
as  to  put  in  so  much  salt,"  Lainey  remarked,  obvi- 
ously turning  the  subject. 

11  It  must  have  been  you,  Ann,"  said  Beckie,  with- 
out turning.  "  I  salted  it  once  myself  and  I  salted 
it  according  to  rule." 

"  I  didn't,"  Ann  contradicted  her  sister  instantly. 

Beckie's  back  became  rigid.  "  You  must  have," 
she  said  in  a  stony  voice. 

"  I  know  I  didn't,"  Ann  asseverated. 

"  Probably  I  did  it,"  Lainey  said  with  obvious 
pacific  intent;  "  you  know  what  an  idiot  I  am." 

"  You! "  said  Ann  contemptuously,  "  as  if  we'd 
let  you  go  near  anything  that  was  cooking.     I  don't 


Ann  Takes  Charge  5 

care  who  did  it;  I  know  I  didn't.  And  whoever  it 
was,"  she  cast  a  defiant  glance  at  Beckie's  granite 
profile,  "  I  don't  thank  her  for  it.  Having  to  get 
up  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  boil  piccalilli 
over — on  Saturday  morning,  too,  when  I  ought  to 
be  allowed  to  sleep  late." 

She  paused  and  gazed  at  Beckie's  back.  That 
back  was  moveless,  although  Beckie's  hand  moved 
swiftly,  stirring  the  pot.     Beckie  did  not  speak. 

44  It's  out  of  the  question,"  Ann  went  on,  "  our 
trying  to  have  such  things — jellies  and  preserves  and 
piccalilli  and  chili  sauce.  It's  altogether  too  hard 
work  and  it  all  falls  on  us  girls.  And  who  eats 
them?  The  boys!  Faster  almost  than  we  can 
make  them.  And  would  they  lift  a  finger  to  help 
us?     Not  in  a  hundred  years." 

Again  she  defied  Beckie's  unyielding  back. 
Beckie's  hand  had  stopped  stirring.  She  was  so 
still,  she  seemed  not  even  to  breathe. 

14  As  for  me,"  Ann  continued,  44  I'd  rather  go 
without  than  work  like  this  to  have  them.     I " 

44  Lainey,"  Beckie  interrupted  suddenly,  44  open 
the  door !  "  Her  voice  was  without  expression, 
but  her  words  came  like  stones  hurled  from  a  sling. 

Lainey  obeyed  her. 

Beckie  lifted  the  big  kettle  from  the  stove,  stag- 
gered with  it  across  the  kitchen,  through  the  wood- 
shed to  the  yard.  The  two  girls  froze  where  they 
stood,  watching  her  in  a  growing  panic.  Beckie 
struck  the  cover  from  the  garbage-pail,  lifted  the 
kettle,  poured  the  contents  into  it.  44  When  you 
want  any  more  piccalilli,"  she  said,  returning,  "  make 
it  yourself."  She  marched  into  the  dining-room, 
seated  herself  by  the  fire,  took  up  the  morning  paper. 


52  Ann  Takes  Charge 


For  a  moment,  Lainey  and  Ann  stared  at  each 
other  terrified.  Then,  moving  on  tiptoe  and  han- 
dling pots  and  pans  as  though  they  were  muffled  in 
cotton-wool,  they  began  noiselessly  and  speechlessly 
to  prepare  breakfast.  They  halved  oranges,  cooked 
oatmeal,  fried  eggs  and  bacon ;  but  during  the  process 
they  did  not  speak  a  word. 

Ed  was  the  first  of  the  brothers  to  appear.  Hand- 
some, elegant,  immaculate,  he  might  have  come 
from  the  hands  of  a  valet.  "  I  wish  one  of  you  girls 
would  darn  my  stockings,"  he  began.  "  I  put  on 
the  only  whole  pair  I  had  left  last  night." 

"  Oh,  Ed,"  Lainey  said  remorsefully,  helping 
Ann  to  bring  in  the  breakfast.     "  That's  too  bad. 

We've  been  so  busy  lately  with  the  picca "     She 

cut  this  word  off  with  a  frightened  snap  of  her 
jaw  and  an  involuntary  glance  of  terror  in 
Beckie's  direction.  M  Ann  and  I  will  darn  them  all 
to-night." 

11  Also  I  wish  you'd  go  through  my  underwear," 
Ed  continued,  "  and  put  the  buttons  on.  As  a  but- 
ton-remover, that  laundry  is  a  wonder." 

The  four  Ollivants  drew  up  to  the  table.  Ed 
took  up  the  paper  that  Beckie  threw  down.  They 
ate  their  fruit  in  silence. 

"  Talk  about  crab-apples.  I  should  call  these 
crab-oranges,  from  the  size,"  Ed  remarked. 

Nobody  answered. 

11  Ah,  the  familiar  burnt  taste !  "  he  continued, 
tasting  the  oatmeal  to  which  Lainey  helped  him. 
"Why  do  you  girls  bother  to  cook  any  oatmeal  if 
you  can't  cook  it  right?  " 

Again  nobody  answered. 

"  Kindly  help  me  to  one  of  those  ossified  eggs." 


Ann  Takes  Charge  53 

Ed  seemed  to  enjoy  this  jocose  vein.  "  I  should 
think  they  had  been  cooked  in  a  fireless  cooker." 

Still  nobody  answered. 

"  Not  very  long  on  conversation  this  morning,  are 
you?  "  Ed  added  with  the  tact  of  brothers. 

For  the  fourth  time  nobody  answered. 

"  '  Then  silence  like  a  poultice  came/ "  Ed 
was  beginning,  when,  "  Hello,  Matt,  been  pulled 
lately?  "  he  interrupted  himself  to  greet  his  brother. 

"  No,"  Matt  answered  lightly,  "  Wednesday  is 
my  day  for  getting  pinched."  Matt  had  arisen  in 
his  customary  spirits.  The  thatch  of  his  red  hair 
glittered  like  a  sun  and  the  blue  of  his  eyes  shone 
like  a  sea;  he  whistled  as  he  helped  himself  to  the 
glazed  bacon  and  the  petrified  eggs.  He  took  up 
the  paper  when  Ed  rejected  it,  turned  at  once  to  the 
comic  section,  began  to  laugh  at  the  first  picture, 
nearly  rolled  out  of  his  seat  before  he  finished  the 
series. 

"  Matt,"  Ann  began  in  exasperation,  "  how  can 
you  laugh  like  that  so  early  in  the  morning " 

"  Oh,  say,  girls,"  Matt  exclaimed,  ignoring  Ann, 
"  I  met  Lory  Mack  on  the  street  yesterday.  He's 
in  town  from  Worcester.  Can  I  invite  him  here  to 
spend  Sunday  with  me  ?  " 

Beckie  came  suddenly  to  life.  "  No ! "  she  ex- 
ploded, "  you  can't.  I'm  tired  enough  working  all 
the  wefck  long  for  this  ungrateful  family  without 
slaving  all  day  Sunday  for  strangers." 

"All  right,"  said  Matt  equably.  "You  don't 
have  to  get  red-headed  about  it.  I  do  wish  I  had 
some  place  I  could  take  a  fellow  to,"  he  added  im- 
patiently. "  Well,  we'll  have  to  go  off  somewhere 
together."     He  returned  light-heartedly  to  his  pa- 


54  Ann  Takes  Charge 

per ;  in  another  instant  he  was  writhing  with  delight 
over  the  drawing  of  a  comic-section  dog. 

Presently  Beckie  arose,  jerked  on  her  little  square, 
squat,  unbecoming  jacket,  her  little  round,  flat,  unbe- 
coming hat,  said  nothing,  and  vanished.  Ed  arose, 
drew  leisurely  onto  his  tall,  muscular,  graceful  fig- 
ure his  smart  ulster  and  his  correct  hat,  dropped  a 
careless  "  Good-by,  sisters !  "  and  disappeared. 
Matt  arose,  telescoped  his  jaunty  body  with  a 
large-checked  raglan,  tossed  his  plush  Alpine  hat  into 
the  air,  caught  it  dexterously  on  his  head,  called, 
11  Or  revolver,  girls,"  and  departed,  whistling. 
Lainey  arose,  pulled  herself  into  her  baggy,  mangy 
fur  coat  and  her  stiff  felt  hat. 

14  I'll  be  back  from  that  meeting  just  as  soon  as 
I  can,  Ann/'  she  said,  her  voice  still  low  and  her 
eyes  still  frightened.  u  It  was  mean  of  them  to  put 
it  on  Saturday  morning — I  don't  care  if  Monday 
is  a  holiday."     She  shut  the  door  softly. 

For  a  long  time  Ann  sat  at  the  table.  She  did 
not  move.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  a  spot  in  the 
frosted  pane. 

"  Say,  Ann!  Ann!  What  time  is  it?  "  a  voice 
called  from  upstairs. 

Ann  started.  "  Nine  o'clock!"  she  answered, 
glancing  at  the  clock. 

"  If  I'd  known  it  was  early  as  that,  I'd  slept  two 
hours  more,"  the  voice  continued.  Roland  Ollivant 
lounged  down  the  stairs  and  came  into  the  dining- 
room.  His  eyes  were  swollen,  his  complexion 
mottled  from  too  much  sleep.  But  he  was  hand- 
some in  a  vivid  olive  way;  his  smile  was  dazzling; 
he  would  have  looked  a  Latin  if  he  had  not  been 
so  heavy  in  expression,  so  athletic  in  shape.     Ann 


Ann  Takes  Charge  55 

did  not  speak  or  move.  He  examined  the  table, 
walked  out  into  the  kitchen,  returned  to  the  dining- 
room.     Still  Ann  did  not  speak  or  move. 

"  Say,  Ann,"  Roland  asked  in  a  sulky  tone, 
"aren't  you  going  to  get  me  any  breakfast? 
[There's  only  two  eggs  left." 

"  No,"  declared  Ann  airily,  "  I'm  not.  Besides 
two  eggs  are  enough." 

"  Not  for  me,"  Roland  said. 

11  Then  you'll  go  hungry,"  Ann  announced  sweetly. 
"  I'm  not  the  cook  for  this  family." 

"  Who  said  you  were?  "  Roland  asked  in  a  furious 
voice. 

11  Nobody,"  Ann  answered.  She  added  with  a 
soft  nonchalance,  "  Nobody  would  dare,  I  guess. 
I'm  just  stating  my  position." 

"  Well,  lucky  for  us  you  aren't  the  cook,"  Roland 
remarked  with  the  heavy-handed  sarcasm  of  boy- 
hood, "  putting  most  a  bag  of  salt  in  the  picca- 
lilli." 

For  the  effect  of  this  remark,  Roland  might  have 
thrown  a  stick  of  dynamite  on  the  fire.  u  I  didn't 
do  any  such  thing,"  Ann  said,  "  and  you  know  it. 
If  you " 

"  Yes,  you  did  too,"  Roland  retorted,  seating  him- 
self at  the  table.  u  I  saw  you.  Last  night  while 
Beckie  was  out  here  in  the  dining-room." 

A  frightened  expression  ran  across  Ann's  face — 
the  look  of  consternation  with  which  one  suddenly 
remembers  a  compromising  fact.  For  an  instant, 
her  mouth  opened  wide.  Then,  "  If  ever  you  say 
the  words  salt  or  piccalilli  again  in  my  presence," 
she  burst  out,  "  I'll  run  away  from  this  family  and 
— and — and — go  on  the  stage  and  be  a  chorus-girl." 


56  Ann  Takes  Charge 

14  Humph,"  grunted  Roland,  u  swell  chance  you'd 
have  on  the  stage!  You  with  ankles  like  bologna 
sausages!  " 

44  Roland  Ollivant,  you — liar!  "  Ann  whispered 
this  accusation.  Involuntarily  she  pulled  up  her 
skirt  and  surveyed  the  trim  ankle  it  revealed.  Re- 
assurance, however,  brought  only  a  more  violent 
rage.  44  I  shall  never  speak  to  you  again  as  long 
as  I  live." 

Ann  flashed  out  of  the  dining-room — slammed  the 
door,  flashed  into  the  kitchen — slammed  the  door. 
She  fell  on  the  dishes  heaped  in  the  sink  as  upon 
an  invading  army,  neither  paused  nor  stopped  until 
she  had  ranged  them,  clean  and  shining,  on  the 
kitchen  table.  From  the  sink,  she  transferred  her 
rage  to  the  pantry.  She  took  everything  off  the 
shelves,  washed  them,  rearranged  the  dishes  and 
groceries.  From  the  pantry,  she  moved  to  the 
stove;  she  shoveled  out  the  ashes,  blacked  it,  pol- 
ished it  until  it  made  the  dull  old  mirror  hanging 
over  the  sink  look  like  a  square  of  black  cambric. 

In  the  meantime,  Roland  had  set  himself  seriously 
to  the  business  of  breakfasting.  He  ate  an  orange, 
devoured  what  was  left  of  the  oatmeal,  finished  what 
remained  of  the  bacon  and  eggs,  rummaged  in  the 
black  walnut  sideboard,  found  and  devoured  two 
bananas,  split  and  blackened,  found  and  devoured  a 
bag  of  lady-fingers  broken  and  stale.  Perceptibly 
his  spirits  arose  during  this  toothsome  process.  He 
was  whistling  when  he  went  downstairs  to  the  cellar. 
He  attacked  the  wood-pile  with  an  alacrity  that  he 
rarely  brought  to  it.  Standing  between  a  mountain 
of  ashes  and  a  rapidly-growing  heap  of  kindling, 
he  chopped  and  chopped,  varying  his  shrill  whistling 


Ann  Takes  Charge  57 

with  bass  singing  and  his  bass  singing  with  tenor 
yodeling. 

"Will  you  kindly  permit  me  to  pass?"  an  icy 
voice  demanded  suddenly. 

Roland  turned.  Ann  stood  close,  an  empty  coal- 
hod  in  each  hand. 

11 1  thought  you  weren't  going  to  speak  to  me 
again  as  long  as  you  lived,"  Roland  gibed. 

This  was  a  fatal  reminder. 

The  sparks  that  all  the  morning  had  been  flashing 
intermittently  in  Ann's  eyes  burst  into  tiny  sheets 
of  flame.  A  deep  rose-colored  flush  hanging  behind 
her  white  skin  burst  through,  made  a  purple-red 
mask  of  her  face.  Her  lips  snapped  into  two  rigid 
lines.  Involuntarily  she  dropped  the  coal-hods. 
Her  shoulders  squared.  Her  arms  came  up  to  posi- 
tion. Above  the  elbow  they  began  to  bulge 
with  muscle;  below  the  elbow  they  merged  with 
hard,  strong-looking  fists.  She  glared  at  her 
brother. 

Roland  dropped  his  ax  and  squared  off.  His 
head  sank  between  his  hunched  shoulders.  His 
fists  began  to  make  preliminary  rotary  movements. 
His  feet  engaged  in  little  dancing-steps  forward 
and  back,  sideways  and  back.  He  glared  at  his 
sister. 

And  then  suddenly,  even  as  her  fist  shot  forward, 
Ann's  face  changed.  A  look  of  uncertainty  ex- 
tinguished the  tiny  sheets  of  flame  in  her  eyes.  A 
look  of  perplexity  loosened  the  rigid  vise  of  her 
lips.  Her  fists  fell  to  her  sides,  unclasped.  An  in- 
stant, she  swayed  irresolutely;  then  she  turned  on 
her  heel,  made  in  the  direction  of  the  stairway. 

Roland  watched  her,  stupefied. 


I 


58  Ann  Takes  Charge 

On  her  way  out,  Ann  passed  the  preserve-closet. 
She  paused  in  front  of  the  door,  an  amateur  affair 
of  thin  boards,  hanging  from  leather  hinges.  Here, 
it  was  as  though  another  frenzy  seized  her,  almost 
whirled  her  about.  But  she  did  not  turn.  Instead 
— suddenly  her  right  arm  swung  with  a  powerful 
lunge  straight  from  her  shoulder  to  the  door.  It 
smashed  the  middle  plank  to  splintery  ruin.  When 
she  withdrew  her  hand,  her  knuckles  ran  blood 

But  something  had  gone  out  of  Ann. 

She  walked  with  her  customary  decision  acros 
the  floor  and  up  the  stairs,  but  she  moved  in  quiet 
and  with  dignity.  She  shut  the  cellar  door  noise- 
lessly. 

For  an  interval,  Roland  stared  after  his  sister. 
His  fists  still  held  themselves  up,  but  after  a  while 
they  fell  of  their  own  weight.     He  walked  over 
to  the  preserve-closet,  examined  the  smashed  door 
with  a  look  mingled  of  rage,  surprise,  pride,  and 
admiration.     Then  he  returned  to  his  ax  and  wen 
at  the  wood-pile  again.     He  did  not  stop  until  th 
last  log  had  been  chopped.     He  whistled;  but 
"whistled  low,  through  his  teeth.     And  after  he  ha 
finished  with  the  wood,  he  attacked  the  mountain  o 
ashes,  transferred  it  by  means  of  the  coal-hod 
the  row  of  empty  ash-barrels  in  the  yard.     Wh< 
the  last  load  had  been  removed,  he  filled  the  ho< 
with  coal,  took  them  up  to  the  kitchen.     By  tl 
time  he  was  whistling  in  his  highest  voice  and 
his  greatest  speed.     He  walked  jauntily  out  of  th 
house. 

Ann  went   straight  to   her   room,   lay  down   o 
the  still  unmade  bed.     She  sat  there  for  a  Ion 


Ann  Takes  Charge  59 

time,  her  hands  clasped  under  her  head,  her  eyes 
staring  at  the  ceiling. 

Ann's  father  had  been  dead  for  ten  years,  her 
mother  for  three  months.  For  the  five  years  pre- 
vious to  her  death,  Mrs.  Ollivant  had  been  bedrid- 
den. The  period  of  Mrs.  Ollivant's  sickness  had 
not  made  for  smooth  sailing,  as  far  as  the  house- 
keeping was  concerned;  but  because  the  children 
were  devoted  to  their  mother,  it  had  a  heavenly 
calm,  compared  with  the  troubled  period  that  fol- 
lowed her  death.  Before,  all  roughness  had  been 
smoothed  away  by  Mrs.  Ollivant's  gentle  firmness; 
now  everything  seemed  topsy-turvy,  helter-skelter, 
hit-or-miss.  Beckie  arose  at  six  and  prepared  break- 
fast. Lainey  and  Ann  did  the  dishes.  Immediately 
the  entire  family  scattered  for  the  day,  Ed,  Matt, 
and  Beckie  to  their  work,  Ann  and  Roland  to  High 
School,  Lainey  to  her  teaching.  Ann  and  Lainey 
cooked  the  dinner,  did  the  dishes  again.  The  boys 
of  course  performed  household  chores.  All  day 
Sunday,  the  girls  cleaned  house,  mended,  and 
cooked;  Beckie  planned  the  program  of  the  week's 
eating. 

This  was  the  way  things  went  when  the  schedule 
worked  perfectly. 

But  often  the  schedule  did  not  work  well  and 
sometimes  it  did  not  work  at  all;  for  the  Ollivants 
were  young  and  had  other  interests.  Beckie  was 
constantly  going  out  of  town  for  a  night.  Lainey 
accepted  occasional  week-end  invitations.  Ann  was 
subject  to  all  the  temptations  that  out-of-doors  of- 
fered her  eighteen  years  and  her  tireless  activity. 
Moreover,  with  nobody  at  home  during  the  day- 
time, it  was  hard  to  keep  the  furnace  going.     Often, 


: 


6o  Ann  Takes  Charge 

in  spite  of  their  care,  they  came  back  at  night  to 
freezing  house. 

All  this  was  the  more  depressing  because  the 
were     traditions     in     the     Ollivant     family.     M 
Ollivant    was    able    and    magnetic,    an    extraor 
nary    combination    of    character    and    personali 
Mrs.  Ollivant  was  beautiful,  original,  high-spirited, 
vivacious.     They  were  dowered  almost  equally  with 
the  social  gift.     In  the  early  years  of  their  married 
life,  the  Ollivants  entertained  constantly  and  la 
ishly,  but  with  intelligence  and  originality.     Pictu 
esque  masquerades,  gay  sleighing  parties,  wonder- 
fully cooked  dinners,  delicious,  late  suppers,  read- 
ings,  theatricals,   tableaux — their   first  decade   was 
charged  with  a  vivid  social  conspicuosity.     It  was  a 
proud  family  exercise  to  name  over  the  famous  pe 
pie  who  had  slept  under  their  roof.     But  Mr.  Oil 
vant's  fortune  declined  in  middle  life;  he  died  sue 
denly  and  before  he  was  old.     Mrs.  Ollivant,  phy 
ically  never  the  same  woman  after  her  husband 
death,  developed  unexpected  powers  of  self-reliance 
She  manipulated  the  family  funds  like  a  Napoleon 
but  they  dwindled  steadily;  she  came  to  know  th 
gray  obscurity  of  genteel  poverty.     Through  it  al 
however,  she  was  a  companion  to  her  children;  th 
family  life  was  happy.     Her.  sickness  struck  a  mor 
tal  blow  at  that  happiness.    Her  death  destroyed 
utterly.      With  all   their   remarkable    health,    theii 
splendid  spirit,  their  notable  comeliness,  the  Ollivant 
still  lived  as  under  a  cloud. 

Perhaps  visions  of  the  family  splendor — she  mus 
often  have  heard  it  discussed — passed  througl 
Ann's  mind.  Sometimes  she  smiled,  but  oftener  he 
lips  quivered.     Once   two  big  round  tears   rolle< 


Ann  Takes  Charge  61 

down  her  velvety  cheek,  splashed  unchecked  onto 
the  pillow. 

After  a  long  while,  Ann  arose.  Moving  slowly, 
and  stopping  to  study  every  room,  she  made  a  tour 
of  the  house,  starting  at  the  top.  The  attic  was  a 
mere  lumber-room,  lying  obscured  under  the  dust 
and  cobwebs  of  years.  What  there  was  in  it — be- 
cause of  its  crowded  condition — it  was  almost  im- 
possible to  see.  On  the  third  floor  were  two  big 
bedrooms,  formerly  the  nurseries.  Ed  and  Matt 
shared  one,  Roland  occupied  the  other.  All  the 
run-down,  broken,  lamed  household  furniture  had  ac- 
cumulated in  the  boys'  rooms  as  if  in  protest  against 
their  wrongs.  Here,  in  addition,  was  every  evi- 
dence of  the  careless  housekeeping  inevitable  to  the 
Ollivants'  present  haphazard  system.  The  walls 
clamored  to  be  repapered,  the  ceilings  to  be  replas- 
tered,  the  wood  to  be  repainted.  Everything  was 
dusty,  the  rugs  needed  shaking.  Torn  carpets  of- 
fered stumbling  traps.  The  mirrors  in  the  bureaus 
were  covered  with  water-spots  where  the  boys  had 
slapped  with  brushes  at  their  wet  hair. 

On  the  next  floor  were  four  rooms:  Beckie's  big 
chamber,  a  hall  bedroom,  the  one  that  Lainey 
shared  with  Ann,  an  unfinished  garret  running  over 
the  kitchen.  On  the  lower  floor  were  parlor,  dining- 
room,  kitchen.  As  Ann  descended  the  aspect  be- 
came more  fair.  The  girls'  rooms  showed  the  in- 
evitable feminine  effort  towards  decoration.  The 
living-room  was  at  least  comfortable,  though  shabby, 
the  kitchen  invitingly  warm  and  neat.  The  dining- 
room  alone  seemed  shabby  and  stark;  it  had 
something  of  the  bare  coldness  of  an  institution 
hall. 


62  Ann  Takes  Charge 

Her  leisurely  tour  of  inspection  finished,  Ann  fe 
to  work  with  the  suddenness  of  a  cyclone.  She  we 
over  all  the  floors  with  a  carpet-sweeper,  duste 
made  the  beds,  rearranged  much  of  the  furnitur 
Until  she  reached  the  dining-room,  her  efforts  we 
mainly  in  the  line  of  conservation;  there  it  amounte 
almost  to  revolution.  She  removed  all  the  tabl 
utilities  from  the  black  walnut  sideboard,  covered  i 
mortuary  marble  slab  with  an  embroidered  gues 
towel,  stood  up  some  bright-colored  plates  and  pla 
ters  against  its  back,  polished  the  silver  cake-bask 
and  the  silver  water-pitcher. 

Then  she  attacked  the  table. 

First,  she  took  off  the  cloth  and  threw  it  into  th 
laundry-basket.     Then  she  stood  off  and  surveyed 
it  critically.     Finally,  she  removed  one  leaf,  placed 
a  blue  Wedgwood  pitcher  in  the  center  on  a  darne 
and  faded  embroidered  doily.     Followed  a  period  i 
which   she   obviously  cast  about  her — baffled.     F 
nally,  she  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out.    Some- 
thing she   saw  there  brightened   her   eyes.     Bare- 
headed, she  ran  out  of  doors,  swept  away  the  sno 
from  the  Japanese  barberry,  picked  a  few  branche 
to  which  some  brilliant  red  berries  still  clung,  spe 
five    minutes    arranging    them    droopingly    in    th' 
Wedgwood  pitcher. 

Halfway  through  the  process  of  setting  the  tabl 
another  series  of  iconoclastic  ideas  struck  her.     Sh 
took  all  the  silver  into  the  kitchen,  polished  it.     She 
gathered  all  the   drinking-glasses,   washed  them  a 
second  time,  rubbing  them  until  they  were  almost 
as  clear  as  the  air  itself. 

By  this  time  it  was  one  o'clock. 

Immediately  after  lunch — she  ate  it  with  a  lool 


d 

i 


Ann  Takes  Charge  63 

of  resolution  crystallizing  slowly  on  her  face — she 
went  upstairs,  a  silver  table-knife  in  her  hand.  She 
reached  up  to  the  top  shelf  of  her  closet,  brought 
down  a  little  iron  bank,  shaped  like  an  apple  and 
painted  red.  Half  an  hour's  work  with  the  knife, 
and  she  had  removed  the  last  coin  from  its  interior; 
eighty-nine  pennies,  one  fifty-cent  piece,  two  quar- 
ters, three  dimes,  a  nickel,  and  a  Canadian  piece. 
With  this  money  clutched  in  her  hand,  she  visited 
the  corner  grocery.  She  returned  in  a  few  moments 
followed  by  a  grocery-boy  loaded  with  cans  of  to- 
matoes. 

Two  hours  later,  she  was  hauling  down  from  the 
top  shelf  of  the  closet  the  tall  green  glass  jars  which 
five  hours  before  she  had  so  neatly  piled  there. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  look  sweet!"  Lainey  exclaimed 
when  she  got  home  at  halfpast  five  that  night.  "  I'm 
going  right  upstairs  and  dress  up  too." 

Ann  wore  one  of  her  summer  muslins,  exquisitely 
laundered,  a  broad  rose-colored  velvet  ribbon  tied 
about  her  hair.  The  big  curls  which  lay  flat  to  her 
skin  just  above  her  ears  shone  like  satin;  her  eyes, 
like  golden  crescent  moons,  rocked  with  suppressed 
excitement.  Her  fatigue  showed  itself  only  in  the 
increased  bloom  of  her  velvety  cheeks. 

"  I  want  you  to  dress  up,  Lainey,"  Ann  said,  "  for 
a  particular  reason.  I've  been  fixing  up  the  house 
to-day  and  everything  looks  so  nice." 

"What's  the  matter  with  your  hand?"  Lainey 
asked. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  Ann  answered  carelessly,  "  I 
bruised  it  in  the  cellar.  I've  been  working  like  a 
Trojan  all  day  long." 


64  Ann  Takes  Charge 

"  I  should  say  you  had  been  working,"  Laine 
said  a  half  an  hour  later.  "  Doesn't  our  room  loo 
clean — and  a  fire  in  the  parlor.  And,  oh,  Ann,  thi 
dining-room  is  simply  swell  with  the  bare  table  an 
the  sideboard  fixed  up.  And  I  love  it  with  the  fol 
ing-doors  open  that  way.  Let's  always  eat  wi 
them  open — it  seems  so  sort  of  spacious  and  opulen 
It  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  was  being  entertained  b 
royalty." 

"  Well,  we  will — when  we  have  a  fire,"  Ann  con 
ceded. 

Lainey  stopped  transfixed  at  the  kitchen  door 
11  Who  made  that  chili  sauce?"  she  demanded 
"  Ann  Ollivant,  you  didn't  do  it  all  alone  by  your 
self?" 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  Ann  said,  her  eyes  dancing.     " 
looked  up  the  recipe  in  Mrs.  Farmer's  and  I  bough 
the  tomatoes  with  my  own  money.     It's  a  surpris 
for  Beck.     We'll  have  some  of  it  with  the  beans 
I've  got  a  salad  and  I  made  a  floating  island  for 
dessert — Roly  is  so  crazy  about  it.    And,  Lainey,  I'm 
going  to   serve  the  things  in  courses  to-night, 
want  you  to  help  me." 

11  Here,  Ann,"  Beckie  said  a  few  moments  later 
u  I  bought  you  some  silk  stockings  to-day.  I  hear 
you  say  the  other  day  that  you  wanted  a  pair."  Sh 
tossed  the  little  white-tissue  bundle  into  her  sister" 
lap  without  looking  at  her. 

"Oh,  Beck!"  Ann  bubbled  ecstatically,  "  gree 
ones!  You  angel!  I've  been  simply  crazy  for  a 
pair.  I  was  saving  up  for  a  maline  ruff  or  I'd  have 
bought  them  myself.  And,  Beckie,  I  did  put  the  salt 
in  the  piccalilli  and  I'm  awfully  sorry  I  was  so  hor 


nor- 


Ann  Takes  Charge  65 

rid  this  morning.     I  didn't  remember  it  until  Roly 

told  me  just  when But  let  me  show  you  what 

I've  been  doing  all  day." 

"  My  undying  gratitude  to  whoever  washed  my 
brush  and  comb,"  said  Ed,  when  they  sat  down  to 
dinner,  and  "  Say,  who's  been  sprucing  up  our 
room?  " 

"  I  did."  Ann's  tone  was  meek,  but  her  eyes 
were  more  than  ever  like  rocking  crescent  moons. 

"  For  the  love  of  Mike,"  Matt  exclaimed,  seizing 
the  dish  that  Lainey  placed  on  the  table,  "  chili 
sauce!     I'm  for  that!  " 

"  I  would  like  to  ask,  Matt,"  Ed  remarked  sar- 
donically, watching  his  brother,  "  whether  you  con- 
sider you  eat  chili  sauce  on  your  beans  or  beans  in 
your  chili  sauce?"  But  Ed's  disgust  was  palpably 
forced  to  cover  pleasure — as  forced  as  his  choler 
later  when  over  the  floating  island  pudding  he  re- 
marked to  Roland,  "  Why  don't  you  put  all  four 
paws  in  the  trough?  You  can  get  it  quicker  that 
way." 

"  Roly  is  going  to  have  what's  left  in  the  dish," 
said  Ann  sweetly.  "  Here  it  is,  Roly.  And 
now,"  she  went  on  in  a  stately  tone,  "  when  you  have 
finished,  I  want  you  all  to  gather  in  the  parlor.  I 
have  something  very  important  to  say  to  you." 

"  Now,  Ann,"  Ed  asked  later,  clipping  the  end  of 
his  cigar,  "  what's  that  proposition  you  were  go- 
ing to  put  to  us?  We're  ready  to  hear  it.  Fire 
away!  " 

Ann  had  apparently  prepared  her  address.  It 
flowed  from  her  without  hesitation,  the  instant  her 
lips  parted. 


66  Ann  Takes  Charge 

"Well,"  she  said,  "it's  this.  After  you'd  all 
gone  this  morning,  I  went  through  this  house  from 
top  to  bottom  into  every  nook  and  cranny  and  hole 
and  corner  and  closet,  from  the  attic  to  the 
cellar.  I  tried  to  look  at  it  as  if  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  it  was  the  dustiest, 
coldest,  bleakest,  most  unhome-like  place  I  ever  saw 
in  my  life." 

"  Right  so  far,"  agreed  Ed,  lighting  his  cigar. 
"Go  on!" 

"  Then  I  laid  down — lay  down,  I  mean — on  my 
bed  and  tried  to  think  why  it  was  so  and  if  it  had 
to  be  so  and  if  there  wasn't  some  way  that  it  could 
be  different.  I  thought  for  a  long  time  before  the 
answer  came  to  me.  But  when  it  did  come  to  me,  I 
knew  I  was  right."    Ann  paused. 

II  What's  the  answer,  Ann?  "  Ed  asked.  % 

"  It's  for  me  to  leave  school  and  run  the  house,' 
Ann  threw  at  them. 

Every  Ollivant  started  and  all  of  them,  excep 
Roland,  protested  by  word  or  look  or  gesture. 

"  Can't  be  done,"  decided  Ed. 

"Why,  Ann,"  added  Beckie,  "I  couldn't  hea 
of  such  a  thing.  You'll  graduate  next  year  and  I 
want  you  to  finish  your  High  School  course.  We've 
all  had  High  School  educations  at  least,  although  it 
would  break  poor  father's  heart  if  he  had  thought 
that  was  all  we  were  going  to  get." 

II I  knew  this  was  what  you'd  say,"  Ann  went  on 
cheerfully.  "  But  it  doesn't  change  me,"  she  con- 
tinued inflexibly.  "  I  know  I'm  right  and  I'm  going 
to  prove  it  to  you.  In  the  first  place,  I  hate  school. 
I  never  did  enjoy  studying  and  I  loathe  all  my 
teachers.     They  are  the  kind  of  people  I  simply 


Ann  Takes  Charge  67 

can't  stand — so  old  and  frumpy  and  behind  the 
times.     And  Mr.  Osborne " 

"Well,  Ann,"  Ed  interposed  mildly,  "if  you 
think  a  man's  qualifications  for  teaching  de- 
pend  " 

"  I  know  what  you're  going  to  say,  Ed  Ollivant," 
Ann  interrupted,  "  and  you  needn't  say  it.  I've 
heard  it  all  and  it  never  has  convinced  me  and  never 
will.  '  Clothes  do  not  make  the  man,'  '  It's  not 
what  people  do  but  what  they  are,'  '  A  man's  a  man 
for  a'  that,'  '  Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets,' 
and  all  that  old  stuff.  People  make  a  hit  with  me  by 
the  way  they  look  and  dress  and  how  up-to-date  they 
are.  Take  Mr.  Osborne :  if  you  think  a  man  with 
red  eyelids  and  an  Adam's  apple  and  a  mustache  like 
a  walrus,  who  wears  an  old  frock-coat  when  cutaways 
are  the  thing,  could  ever  teach  me  anything,  you 
are  entirely  mistaken.  I  simply  wouldn't  learn  from 
him  because  he  never  could  put  it  over  with  me  that 
he  knew  anything." 

"  Why,  Ann,  I  never  listened  to  such  a "     But 

it  was  obvious  that  Ed  was  out  of  breath,  words, 
argument. 

"  What's  more  to  the  point,  my  reports  are  get- 
ting worse  and  worse,"  Ann  went  on  still  cheerfully. 
"  And  I  don't  care.  I  hate  that  school,  I  hate  the 
studies  and  I  hate  the  teachers.  Miss  Merrick 
warned  me  the  other  day  that  if  I  didn't  improve,  I 
would  not  pass  into  the  Senior  Class.  I  won't  im- 
prove, I  can  tell  you  that,  for  I  don't  want  to  get 
into  the  Senior  Class;  nobody  can  open  my  skull  and 
put  things  in  it,  so  you  might  just  as  well  let  me  leave 
school  now.  One  reason  why  I  had  such  a  fierce 
grouch  this  morning  at  breakfast  was  because  I  had 


68  Ann  Takes  Charge 


I 


a  row  with  that  old  cat  of  a  Miss  Norton  yesterday. 
Gee,  if  I  could  only  go  up  to  school  Monday  and 
tell  her  I'm  leaving  for  good,  she'd  get  a  fierce  sour- 
ball  herself,  just  to  think  she  wouldn't  have  me  to 
blame  for  everything." 

14  Cut  out  the  muckraking,  Ann,  and  get  down  to 
cases,"  Ed  commanded.     "  What's  your  plan?  " 

44  Well,"  Ann  went  on  eagerly,  quieting  at  once. 
41 1  plan  to  run  the  house  and  to  do  all  the  cooking. 
It's  too  much  for  Beckie  to  get  up  at  six  o'clock  every 
morning  and  then  work  all  day.  She's  tired  out  now 
and  I  don't  know  what  she'll  be  before  spring. 
And  then  there's  a  lot  of  waste,  this  way.  I  think  I 
can  save  enough  out  of  the  household  money  for 
you  to  pay  me  what  you'd  pay  a  maid." 

"  Is  that  all?"  Ed  asked  sardonically. 

44  No.  I  thought  out  a  whole  lot  more.  And 
I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  this  house  ought  to 
be  fixed  up.  It  looks  like  the  very  old  scratch  and 
I'm  ashamed  every  time  a  stranger  comes  in.  Of 
course  what  I'd  like  to  do  is  to  make  it  swell  and 
high-brow  like  Mrs.  Damon's  place — gold  paper, 
Japanese  prints,  and  Japanese  bric-a-brac.  I 
know  we  can't  afford  anything  like  that.  But  we 
can  do  loads  of  things  to  it  that  won't  cost  so  very 
much,  especially  if  we  do  them  gradually.  I'd  like 
to  get  some  new  furniture  in  green  wicker,  some 
Navajo  rugs,  and  loads  of  copper  and  brass.  For 
instance,  the  dining-room  ought  to  be  repapered  in 
something  new  and  light  and  modern.  I  want  to 
get  rid  of  that  fierce  old  ark  of  a  black  walnut  side- 
board and  have  shelves  painted  white  put  up  in  its 
place.  Then  gradually,  taking  the  rooms  one  at  a 
time,  I  want  to  fix  them  up  in  colors — a  pink  room 


Ann  Takes  Charge  69 

for  me,  a  blue  room  for  Lainey,  a  red  room  for 
Beckie,  and  blue  and  green  rooms  for  the  boys.  I 
think  you  boys  ought  to  pay  for  any  changes  in  your 
own  rooms,  all  except  Roly,  of  course.  He  isn't 
earning  money." 

"Well,"  Beckie  broke  in,  "I  agree  with  all 
you're  saying  now,  Ann.  I  was  thinking,  after  I  got 
to  work  to-day,  how  Matt  couldn't  bring  Lory  Mack 
here  over  Sunday  because  we  had  no  place  to  enter- 
tain him.  And  I've  decided  that  it's  a  pity  to  use 
that  great  elegant  room  of  mine  for  a  bedroom — 
just  think,  it's  as  big  as  the  parlor.  I'm  going  to 
fix  it  all  over  for  a  sort  of  a  den  where  the  boys 
can  take  their  company  and  wThen  they  don't  want 
us  girls  around.  Then  I  thought  I'd  go  into  the 
little  garret  over  the  kitchen." 

"  No,  Beckie,  you  shan't,"  Lainey  burst  in,  her 
eyes  flaming  blue  with  excitement,  "  I  tell  you  what 
you  do.  You  take  our  room  and  Ann  and  I  will 
go  into  the   attic.     I'd  love  it,  Ann,  wouldn't  you?  " 

"  Lainey,  it  would  be  great! "  exclaimed  Ann. 
For  an  instant  she  lost  interest  in  her  major  thesis. 
"  We  can  make  it  sort  of  bohemian  or  like  a  studio 
— unframed  things  tacked  up  on  the  wall.  And 
really,  being  over  the  kitchen,  it's  the  warmest  room 
in  the  house." 

"  Then,"  Beckie  went  on,  "  I'm  going  to  give 
Matt  Roly's  room,  so  that  Ed  can  have  a  room  to 
himself.  And  Roly  can  come  down  into  the  little 
hall  bedroom  next  to  my  room.  You'd  like  that, 
wouldn't  you?  " 

"  Sure  Mike !  "  answered  Roly.  "  I'd  rather  be 
downstairs.    It's  warmer." 

"  Only,"  Beckie  said,  "  I'm  afraid,  boys,  that  den 


70  Ann  Takes  Charge 

won't  be  so  very  pretty,  because  we  haven't  any  nice 
furniture." 

"  Well,"  remarked  Ann,  "  one  thing  I'm  going  to 
do  some  day  is  to  go  through  the  attic  and  see  i 
there  isn't  something  up  there  that  we  can  use." 

"  Ann,"  exclaimed  Lainey,  still  shiny-eyed,  "  won' 
we  have  fun  fixing  up  our  garret?     Right  away 
can  think  of  a  whole  lot  of  things  we  can  do." 

11  We'll  call  it  the  Studio,"  Ann  said.  uAnd  re 
member  all  of  you  to  call  the  *  parlor  '  the  *  living- 
room  ' — nobody  says  parlor  nowadays.  After 
this,  you'll  come  home  to  a  warm  house  every  nigh 
— I  don't  intend  to  let  the  furnace  fire  go  out 
There'll  be  a  fire  in  the  parlor  too — I  mean  living 
room.  And  also  we're  going  to  have  a  course  din 
ner  every  night — Lainey  and  I  are  going  to  manag 
that.  But,  listen,  I  don't  care  what  you  say,  I'm  no 
going  back  to  school  Monday.     I've  quit  for  good.' 

Beckie's  brow  wrinkled  and  Ed's  brow  creased, 
but  beyond  Ed's  evasive,  "  Well,  we'll  see  about 
that!  "  nobody  offered  remonstrance. 

But  undoubtedly  Ann  felt  her  triumph  surging  in 
the    atmosphere.     Her    eyes    widened    until    they 
seemed  like  patches  of  gold  inlaid  on  her  white  skin 
Her  teeth  made  silver  glitter  in  her  wide  red  mouth 

"  Well,"  she  said  briskly  to  her  sisters,  later  when 
they  trooped  upstairs  together,  "  there's  one  thing 
I've  made  up  my  mind  to.  If  there's  anything  in 
this  world  I  love,  it's  housework.  I  adore  to  sweep 
and  I'm  wild  about  dusting,  I'm  crazy  about  arrang- 
ing things  and  I'm  mad  about  setting  a  table.  Some 
people  haven't  the  slightest  knack  that  way — but  it 
seems  as  if  it  was  just  born  in  me.  I'm  domestic 
by  nature,  I  guess." 


CHAPTER  IV 

LAINEY'S  GIFT 

u  TT'S  the  very  first  day  of  December,"  said  Lainey 
X.  Ollivant.  M  It's  not  so  very  cold  yet;  there's 
quite  a  little  Indian  summer  left.  And  yet,  already, 
I  can  taste  Christmas  and  smell  it.  The  air  always 
gets  so  crispy  in  the  holiday  season.  It  feels  differ- 
ent too.  I  guess  it's  because  the  spirit  of  Christmas 
is  about." 

Lainey  had  been  walking  restlessly  about  the 
room,  darting  now  and  then  to  the  window  and  once 
secretly  opening  it  to  sniff  the  air.  She  was  very 
different  from  the  every-day,  go-to-school,  school- 
teacher Lainey;  she  was  more  like  some  small  inno- 
cent forest  creature  who  feels  within  himself  the 
first  troubled  stir  of  the  spring  running.  White- 
complexioned,  dull-eyed,  uncharacterized  normally; 
at  times  Lainey  was  "  fey."  Which  is  to  say,  exalta- 
tions of  the  spirit  swooped  on  her,  lifted  her  high. 
Even  physically,  these  seizures  made  her  a  different 
person.  The  hair  which  ordinarily  floated  about 
her  brow  now  bristled  like  wire ;  her  slim  drooping 
figure  had  turned  tense ;  it  quivered  and  jerked  elec- 
trically. 

None  of  the  Ollivants  shared  her  excitement. 
iThe  Sunday  calm  lay  over  the  household.  They 
sat  about  the  big,  fire-warmed  living-room  engaged 
in  their  weekly  struggle  with  the   Sunday  paper. 

71 


72  Lainey's  Gift 

That  sprawling  octopus  had  been  subjected  to  the 
usual  indignities.  Falling  upon  it  first — the  proud 
privilege  of  his  seniority — Ed  had  torn  the  sporting 
page  from  its  vitals.  Matt — heir-apparent  to  this 
alluring  sheet,  one  impatient  eye  nailed  to  Ed's  dal 
lyings — managed  somehow  to  read  the  comic  supple- 
ment. Roland — heir-presumptive  and  visibly  lan- 
guishing under  the  strain  of  waiting  for  two  brother 
— had  sought  Lethe  in  the  magazine  section.  Beckie 
studied  recipes  on  the  woman's  page ;  Ann,  gowns  in 
the  pictorial  section. 

"  Oh,  that  reminds  me,"  said  Ed.  He  dropped 
the  sporting  page.  Immediately  with  the  lithe, 
clean  pounce  of  a  panther  Matt  was  on  it.  "  How 
about  Christmas?  I  shan't  be  at  home  this  year. 
I've  accepted  an  invitation  to  go  with  a  house-party 
down  on  the  Cape." 

14  Same  here !  "  At  the  sound  of  Matt's  voice, 
Roland  leaped  out  of  his  serial;  but  Matt  still 
gripped  the  sporting  page.  "  Lory  Mack  asked  me 
up  to  Worcester  to  spend  Christmas  with  him. 
We're  going  tramping.  I  thought  as  long  as 
mother " 

11  Well,  isn't  it  queer  that  we  all  got  invitations?  " 
commented  Beckie.  "  Aunt  Margaret  is  having 
some  of  Uncle  Hi's  relatives  down  from  Fitchburg. 
And  she  wrote  if  I  hadn't  anything  else  to  do,  I 
might  as  well  come  out  there.  And  I  thought  as 
long  as  it  was  the  first  Christmas  after  mother's 
death — perhaps  it  wouldn't  seem  quite  so  hard — if 
we  took  no  notice  of  it." 

"  I  hate  Christmas,"  Ann  said  in  a  sulky  tone. 
Discontent  always  brought  out  a  sulphurous  element 
in  Ann's  beauty.    Now  the  rose-red  underlip  dragged 


Lainey's  Gift  73 

sullenly  away  from  the  flashing  teeth;  the  leaf-brown 
lashes  pulled  the  thick  lids  half  over  the  golden 
eyes.  "  Talk  about  the  joyous  Yuletide.  I  don't 
see  that  it  differs  so  much  from  Thanksgiving  and 
that's  .the  most  God-forsaken  holiday  of  the  whole 
calendar." 

M  Well,  Christmas  will  be  much  better  this  year," 
remarked  Roland,  "  if  you  have  hard  sauce  for 
the  pudding  instead  of  that  sweetened  glue  you 
sprung  on  us  last  year.  And  don't  forget  to  order 
the  raisins — the  way  you  did  at  Thanksgiving." 

M  Roly,"  said  Ann  in  an  intense  voice,  and  the 
lightning  in  her  eyes  almost  set  her  lashes  afire, 
"  sometimes  I  think  you'll  die  young — you're  so 
spiritual-minded." 

"  And  I  don't  want  stockings  for  a  Christmas 
present,"  Roly  growled  further,  ignoring  his  sister's 
gibe. 

" 1  agree  with  you  there,"  Ann  said  with  convic- 
tion, "  unless  they're  silk  ones.  If  there's  anything 
I  hate,  it's  a  useful  present.  Handkerchiefs !  Un- 
derwear !  Gloves !  My  idea  of  a  present  is  some- 
thing you  never  could  afford  to  buy  yourself.  But 
if  any  one's  determined  to  give  me  a  useful  gift, 
please  slip  me  the  money  and  let  me  select  it  myself. 
I  always  know  exactly  what  I  want.  When  other 
people  pick  things  out  for  me,  they  get  them  wrong 
in  some  important  detail;  and  I  always  think  of  it 
when  I  wear  it." 

Lainey  contemplated  her  sister  in  admiration. 
Lainey  was  one  of  those  who  stare  dumbly  when 
asked  what  they  want  for  Christmas.  Lainey  could 
never  think  of  anything  she  wanted.  Lainey  liked 
everything  that  had  ever  been  given  to  her. 


74  Lainey's  Gift 

"  Lainey,  l^t's  you  and  I  go  to  the  theater  Christ 
mas  Eve,"  Ann  went  on.  "  I  think  that's  the  bes 
way  to  spend  holiday  nights." 

But  before  she  answered  this,  "  What  sort  of  a 
Christmas  did  father  and  mother  have?"  Lainey 
asked.     She  addressed  the  three   older  Ollivants 
u  I  mean  when  you  were  children." 

14  Oh,  it  was  wonderful,"  answered  Beckie.  A 
far-away  look  put  out  the  light  that  continually  scin 
tillated  in  her  eyes  and  then  it  was  to  be  seen  tha 
they  were  a  soft,  greeny-brown  hazel.  "  I  can  re 
member  it  perfectly.  Mother  loved  Christmas  jus 
the  way  you  do,  Lainey.  She  worked  fo 
weeks  and  weeks  beforehand,  getting  every 
thing  ready.  There  was  always  a  tree- 
tremendous  big  one,  it  seemed  to  me — but  per 
haps  that  was  because  I  was  so  small — just  ablaz 
with  candles.  Father  was  Santa  Claus  and,  oh 
how  handsome  he  looked  and  how  witty  he  was,  dis 
tributing  the  presents.  People  were  in  gales  o 
laughter  all  the  time.  That  was  Christmas  mornin 
and  only  the  family  and  the  old,  old  friends  wer 
there — like  Auntie  Jennison  and  Uncle  Larry  anc 
Lila — and  Aunt  Lottie  and  Cousin  Emlen  and  th 
Murrays.  But  the  rest  of  the  day  they  kept  ope 
house ;  people  were  coming  all  day  long.  Wheneve 
I  hear  the  sound  of  sleigh-bells,  I  always  think  o 
those  times  because  so  many  people  drove  up  ir 
cutters.  Father  always  mixed  a  punch  and  mothei 
made  a  huge  Christmas  cake.  Christmas  dinnei 
was  simply  gorgeous.  How  beautiful  the  tablt 
looked!     Do  you  remember  it,  Ed? " 

"  Yes,"  Ed  answered,  "  the  whole  house,  for  tha 
matter — the  parlor  was " 


Lainey's  Gift  75 

11  The  thing  I  remember,"  Matt's  coppery  crest 
— glittering — raised  suddenly  above  the  sporting 
page  and  his  sea-blue  gaze — gleaming — went  straight 
into  the  past,  "  is  the  Christmas  pudding.  Old  Joe 
used  to  bring  it  into  the  room,  all  blazing  up,  and 
father  made  a  point  of  helping  everybody  while  it 
was  still  burning.  I  used  to  think  that  was  the  most 
wonderful  sight — when  I  was  too  little  to  have 
pudding — to  see  people  eating  food  that  was  on 
Sre." 

Lainey's  eyes  suddenly  changed.  Lainey's  eyes 
were  strange;  you  did  not  look  deep  down  into 
them;  you  looked  a  long  way  through  them;  not 
wells  but  tunnels.  Now  they  seemed  to  snap  from 
their  far-away  recesses  forward  to  the  surface  of  her 
face;  or  was  it  that  they  filled  suddenly  with  blue 
light?  "How  beautiful  that  must  have  been," 
she  breathed  dreamily,  "  like  living  in  a  story- 
book!" 

11  Just  think,"  Ann  said  sulkily,  "  we  never  had  a 
Christmas  tree — Lainey  and  Roly  and  me — we 
never  had  a  real  Christmas.  I  wish  I  could  remem- 
ber some  of  the  nice  part  of  the  family  history.  It 
seems  like  something  unreal  when  I  hear  you  talk 
about  it.  Mother  was  sick  so  long  and  we  had  to 
be  so  quiet  that  I  can't  think  of  Christmas  as  a  holi- 
day— only  that  you  get  presents  that  you  don't  like 
and  want  to  throw  away  and  give  others  that  you'd 
like  yourself  but  can't  afford.  But  I  suppose  you 
had  such  a  good  time  because  we  were  a  real  family 
then  and  entertained  and  did  things  together.  Some- 
how I  never  feel  as  if  I  belonged  to  a  family  like 
Edwina  or  Dottie  or  Louise." 

"  I  don't  think  belonging  to  a  family  has  anything 


s 


76  Lainey's  Gift 

to    do    with    Christmas,"    Lainey    remarked, 
don't  know  that  I  believe  in  families  at  all.     Some 
times  I  think  they're  as  much  of  a  hindrance  as 
help." 

This  was  typical  of  Lainey;  she  was  always  mak- 
ing strange  vague  statements — not  only  vague  an< 
strange,  but  a  little  mad — which  the  Ollivants,  n< 
comprehending,  ignored  or  ridiculed.  And  Lainey, 
who  seemed  equally  deficient  in  humor  and  in  sen 
sitiveness,  accepted  their  valuation  of  herself;  ac 
cepted  it  with  a  submissiveness  so  gentle  and  so  un 
questioning  that  it  went  far  towards  making  fo 
those  important  qualities. 

11  And  I  don't  think  that  presents  have  anythin 
to  do  with  it,"  Lainey  went  on.  "  Anyway,  I  lov 
everything  about  Christmas — Christmas  trees  am 
Christmas  waits  and  Christmas  puddings.  I  lov 
Santa  Claus  and  his  sleigh  and  his  pack.  I  lov 
holly  and  mistletoe.  I  adore  stories  about  Chrisl 
mas.  To  this  day,  I  remember  one  that  I  rea 
years  ago  in  an  old,  old  Wide  Awake  called  '  Bj 
bouska,'  and  as  for  Louise's  Christmas  in  '  Eac 

and     All ' And     every     December     of     m 

life w     Lainey  had  the  air  of  one  who  look 

back  from  high  snowy  nonagenarian  peaks  to  son 
far-away  blossomy  valley  of  youth.      "  I've    rea 
Dickens's  '  Christmas  Carol,'  the  essays  about  Chris  - 
mas  in  Washington  Irving's  '  Sketch-Book,'  and  tl 
Christmas  chapters  in  '  Trilby.'     I  love  the  sto:  7 
of  the  shepherds  who  watched  their  flocks  by  nig 
and  the  wise  men  and  the  manger  and  the  chapte 
,about  it  in   '  Ben   Hur.'    I   love  to   read   Philli 
Brooks's  poem,  '  Oh,  Little  Town  of  Bethlehem.' 
gives  me  a  thrill  just  to  say,  Noel,  and  as  for  '  'T\* 


Lainey's  Gift  77 

the  night  before  Christmas  and  all  through  the 
house  ' — oh,  I  think  I  love  it  better  than  Gray's 
'Elegy.'" 

"  Well!"  Ed  exclaimed,  "  quite  a  little  oration!  " 
His  voice  held  its  finest  satiric  note,  but  his 
eyes  showed  the  puzzled  expression  that  always 
filled  them  when,  in  argument,  he  came  to  grips  with 
Lainey.  "  For  my  part,  I  hate  Christmas.  It's  a 
nuisance  and  a  bore.  It's  a  child's  holiday  anyway. 
Grown  people  should  cut  it  out." 

"  You're  wrong  there,  Ed,"  Lainey  said  pleas- 
antly. She  was  the  only  one  in  the  family  who 
argued  with  Ed;  the  others  stood  a  little  in  awe  of 
him.  Having  corrected  her  brother,  she'  imme- 
diately lost  herself  in  her  idea.  Her  lids  came 
down  over  her  eyes  so  that  the  lashes  made  soft 
blurred  stars  of  their  blue  light.  "  Christmas  is  a 
spiritual  ideal — I've  worked  it  all  out.  It's  the  only 
time  in  the  whole  year  that  we  really  give  ourselves 
up  to  thoughts  of  others.  If  it  weren't  for  Christ- 
mas, I  don't  believe  anybody  would  ever  make  a 
present  from  one  year's  end  to  the  other.  But 
Christmas  pulls  us  up  sharp  and  compels  us  to  be 
unselfish.  It's  a  bother  and  a  trouble — that's  why 
everybody  hates  it — especially  men.  But  we  ought 
to  be  bothered  and  troubled — especially  men.  The 
Christmas  ideal  is  to  give  and  receive.  The  chil- 
dren's Christmas  is  to  receive,  the  grown  people's — 
to  give.  Only  I  suppose  it  isn't  necessarily  giving 
things." 

Lainey  enunciated  this  philosophy  with  the  same 
dogmatic  succinctness  with  which  she  would  have 
demonstrated  a  theorem  in  geometry.  The  others 
paid  no  attention  to  her ;  Ed  alone  continued  to  listen 


78  Lainey's  Gift 

with  his  smile  of  satiric  amusement,  his  look  oi 
speculative  wonder. 

This  was  the  first  week  in  December.     Gradual! 
the  last  sip  of  the  Indian  summer  honey  went  out  o 
the  air;  and  millions  of  microscopic  ice-crystals  too 
its  place.     The  haze  melted  out  of  the  street  vistas 
a  sharp  clearness  filled  them.     The  wind  began  to 
draw  gray  cloud  curtains  over  the  blue  sky,  to  tie 
glistening   frost   gossamers   over  the   green   earth 
Every  day  now  the  tail  dropped  off  the  day  anc 
pieced  itself  onto  the  night. 

Some  time  during  the  second  week  in  December 
Lainey  remarked  casually  at  dinner,  "  By  the  way, 
I've  decided  that  I'm  going  to  have  a  Christmas 
tree  this  year — on  Christmas  Eve." 

"  A  Christmas  tree !  "  exclaimed  Ed.  u  A  Christ- 
mas tree!    Well,  of  all What  a  foolishness 

You're  not  a  child  any  longer,  Lainey.     Besides 
Beckie  and  Matt  and  I  are  going  away  for  Christ- 


mas." 


"  I  know,"  retorted  Lainey,  "but  Ann  and  Roly 
and  I  aren't.    And  we  never  had  a  tree." 

"  It  will  be  an  awful  lot  of  trouble,   Lainey,' 
Beckie  warned  her  sister.    "  You  have  no  idea  how 
many  things  it  takes  to  cover  a  Christmas  tree  and 
make  it  look  well.     I  guess  you  don't  realize  how 
expensive  it  will  be." 

11 1  suppose  I  don't,"  Lainey  agreed  meekly. 
11  Still  I  intend  to  have  one." 

11 1  think  it's  perfect  nonsense,  Lainey,"  com- 
mented Ann.  "  Lots  of  the  things  that  you  can't 
buy  have  to  be  made  for  a  Christmas  tree.  You 
don't  know  how  much  work  there  is  in  it." 


Lainey's  Gift  79 

11  Probably  I  don't,' '  said  Lainey,  "  but  as  I  intend 
to  do  it  all  myself,  what  difference  does  it  make?  " 

"  Anyway,"  Ann  asserted  wilfully,  "  I'm  going 
to  the  theater  Christmas  Eve,  if  I  go  alone." 

"  Don't  let  it  leak  out,  Lainey,"  Matt  cautioned 
his  sister,  "  that  you're  going  to  have  a  tree  all  by 
yourself  or  people  will  think  you're  nutty." 

"  Well,"  Lainey  continued  with  her  soft-voiced, 
inflexible  obstinacy,  "  if  there's  one  thing  I  never 
bother  my  head  about — it's  what  people  think." 

"  Well,  don't  ask  me  to  help  you  with  it,"  Roly 
warned  her,  taking  his  cue  from  the  others.  "  I 
never  heard  of  such  a  footless  thing  in  my  life. 
Anyway,  I'm  going  to  a  show  with  Dink  Hardy  that 
night." 

By  this  time,  there  were  two  round  pink  disks  in 
the  center  of  Lainey's  white  cheeks.  M  No,  Roly," 
she  promised,  "  I  won't  ask  you-  to  help  me — or 
anybody.  And  you  needn't  feel  obliged — one  of 
you — to  come  to  it.  But  I'm  twenty-two  years  old 
and  this  is  the  first  time  I've  earned  money  of  my 
own.  I've  always  wanted  a  Christmas  tree  ever 
since  I  can  remember.  I'm  going  to  have  it  this 
year  if  I  have  it  all  alone  by  myself,  and  it  takes  two 
months'  salary."  Her  emotion  melted  slowly.  u  I 
do  hope,"  she  ended  dreamily,  "  that  it's  a  nice  cold 
Christmas." 

This  was  the  second  week  in  December.  It  was 
a  dying  world  now.  The  wind  had  sealed  up  sun 
and  sky,  it  had  riveted  down  earth  and  water. 
Above  was  a  gray  hardness;  below  a  brown  dead- 
ness.  Between,  in  a  space  hollow  as  a  drum,  the 
air  lay  rigid  and  frigid. 


80  Lainey's  Gift 

One  night  during  the  third  week,  coming  in  late, 
Lainey  sat  down  at  dinner  to  a  plate  piled  with  let- 
ters. 

"  What  is  all  that  mail  about,  Lainey?  "  Ann  de- 
manded. "  I've  been  almust  crazy  with  curiosity. 
Once  or  twice,  I  nearly  opened  them.,, 

Lainey  was  slitting  the  envelope  flaps  with  her 
knife.  Without  answering,  she  plunged  from  one 
letter  to  the  other  until  she  had  read  them  all. 
11  Oh,  everybody's  accepted,"  she  said  at  last, 
happy  lilt  in  her  voice. 

"Who's  everybody?"  came  from  Beckie.  **  Ac- 
cepted for  what? "  shot  simultaneously  from 
Ann. 

"  I  guess  I  didn't  tell  you,"  Lainey  went  on  gaily. 
"  I  thought  it  was  going  to  be  a  pretty  lonesom 
business  having  a  Christmas  tree  all  by  myself.     So 

I  invited  Auntie  Jennison  and  Uncle  Larry  and  Lila 
— the  three  Murrays  and  Cousin  Emlen.  And 
they're  all  coming." 

"  Good  Lord!"  exclaimed  Ed,  "  did  you  really 
mean  that  noise  about  the  Christmas  tree?  I 
thought  it  was  just  one  of  your  spells.  I  haven't 
thought  of  it  from  that  day  to  this." 

"  They've  written  such  lovely  letters,"  Lainey 
went  on,  not  even  noticing  this  splash  of  cold  water, 

II  all  about  how  well  they  remember  when  they  used 
to  come  here  every  year.  Lila  says  she  can  see  the 
Christmas  pudding  coming  in  all  blazing  up  and  old 
Joe's  black  face  grinning  above  it.  Betsy  says  she 
recalls  particularly  how  full  of  green  the  house  was. 
Yesterday  I  stopped  in  and  invited  Aunt  Lottie — i 
she  was  so  delighted  that  she  cried." 

"  I  never  heard  anything  so  absurd  in  my  life." 


Lainey's  Gift  81 

Beckie's  tone  was  deep  with  disapproval.  "  You'll 
have  to  give  them  something  to  eat  and  you  can't  any 
more  afford  it,  Lainey." 

But  Lainey  was  not  listening.  "  Oh,  I  do  so  hope 
we'll  have  a  snowstorm,"  she  bubbled  happily. 
"  Christmas  won't  seem  like  Christmas  unless  every- 
thing is  white  and  sparkly." 

This  was  the  third  week  of  December.  The  sky 
was  iron  now,  the  earth  lead,  the  air  ice.  But 
somewhere  in  that  frozen  void,  unseen  but  felt, 
hung  a  stirring — an  unease — a  brooding — a  striving 
— a  discontent. 

The  night  of  the  twenty-first  the  door-bell  rang 
just  as  the  Ollivants  sat  down  to  dinner.  u  Oh, 
there  it  is !  "  Lainey  exclaimed  and  jumped,  as 
though  the  bell  had  pulled  her  with  wires  from  her 
chair. 

"What  is?  "  Ed  questioned. 

"  The  Christmas  tree,"  Lainey — now  halfway 
to  the  door — threw  over  her  shoulder.  She  disap- 
peared. 

The  Ollivants  dropped  knives  and  forks,  stared 
at  each  other.  Then,  with  one  impulse,  they  stam- 
peded to  the  hall.  The  door  was  wide  open. 
Lainey  was  standing  in  the  opening.  For  an  in- 
stant, the  clear,  cold  wind  of  December  roared  in. 
Then  an  amorphous  mass  of  green  filled  the 
opening.  Lainey  moved  back.  "  I  guess  you'll 
have  to  open  the  other  half  of  the  door,"  she 
said  to  somebody  outside,  "  it's  a  pretty  wide 
tree." 

"  All  right !  "  a  man's  voice  answered.  A  hairy 
hand  reached  down  between  the  branches,  unlatched 


82  Lainey's  Gift 

the  other  half  of  the  door,  swung  it  back.  The 
hand  withdrew;  the  amorphous  mass  of  green,  as 
though  impelled  by  an  invisible  force,  advanced 
slowly  into  the  house,  slanting  the  pictures,  upset- 
ting the  hat-rack.  A  crisp  pungent  smell  mounted 
the  breeze,  flowed  in  great  waves  down  the  hallway. 

"  Right  in "  Lainey  began,  turning.     "  You  all 

go  straight  back  to  the  table,"  she  ordered  her  fam- 
ily sternly,  "  this  is  my  tree." 

The  Ollivants  slunk  to  their  places.    But  ripplinj 
on  ahead  of  them,  filling  the  hall,  filling  the  dininj 
room,  filling  the  whole  house  invisible,  impalpable, 
but  odorous,   like  a  tidal  wave   from  the   forest, 
surged 

"Lord,    how   that   takes   me   back!"    Ed   com 
mented  in  a  low  tone.   He   drew  a   deep  lungfi 
of  air.     "  Fifteen  years,  all  right." 

"  I  used  to  catch  the  smell  of  the  tree,"  Ma 
said  excitedly,  "  the  instant  mother  opened  the  nurs 
ery  door  and  said  we  could  go  down.  Do  you 
remember  how  wild  we  used  to  get  that  last  fifteen 
minutes?" 

"  I  guess  I  do!  "  exclaimed  Beckie.  "  And  when 
I  first  looked  at  the  tree — one  blaze  of  candles 
from  top  to  bottom — I  used  to  feel — as  if — I  used 

to  think  that — as  though "     She  stopped  short. 

Beckie  possessed  her  kind  of  articulateness ;  crisp, 
terse,  forthright  it  was  shot  and  illuminated  with  a 
brilliant  mother-wit.  But  now,  apparently,  her  self- 
analysis  required  terms  too  deft  and  subtle  for  her 
vocabulary.  "  I  felt  as  if  the  house  was  under  a 
magic  spell — as  if  there  was  a  ghost  here — or  an 
angel — or  a  fairy." 

"  Oh,  I  do  wish  I  could  go  in  there !  "  exclaimec 


Lainey's  Gift  83 

5\nn,  and  she  almost  whimpered.  "  I  think  it's 
mean  of  Lainey.  I  wonder  where  they're  put- 
ting it.     Can  you  guess,  Roly?" 

"  In  the  big  window,  I  think,"  Roland  said,  listen- 
ing attentively. 

Involuntarily  all  the  Ollivants  listened.  Sound 
came  from  the  other  room,  many  sounds,  different 
sounds — but  muted,  but  muffled — smothered  shuf- 
flings as  of  branches  brushing  carpets,  crackly 
scratchings  as  of  twig-tips  clutching  walls,  musical 
tinklings  as  of  fir-needles  tapping  glass — a  man's 
hoarse  voice,  lowered,  "  Yes,  there's  the  place,  lady. 
But  you'll  have  to  make  a  stand  for  it — just  whittle 

a  hole  in  a  soap-box "    Lainey's  voice,  breathy, 

eager,  "  Yes,  it's  lovely  there.  I  spent  two  hours 
looking  at  Christmas  trees  this  afternoon  and  this 
was  the  most  beautiful  one  I  could  find.  I  wanted 
one  that  was — — " 

After  a  while,  the  front  door  closed;  Lainey  re- 
turned ;  the  Ollivants  fell,  with  convulsive  unanimity, 
on  their  food.  Lainey  said  nothing  and,  after  a 
while,  they  conversed  of  other  things. 

"  Say,  Lainey,"  Roland  offered  after  the  others 
had  gone,  "  if  you  want  me  to  make  a  stand  for  your 
tree  I  can  do  it  easily.  I've  got  some  old  boards 
in  the  cellar.  And  say,  Lainey,  I'm  coming  to  your 
tree.  Dink  Hardy  says  his  mother  wants  him  to 
stay  at  home  Christmas  Eve." 

11  I'm  awfully  glad,  Roly,"  Lainey  replied.  "  Yes, 
it  would  be  a  great  help  if  you  would  make  the 
stand." 

This  was  the  twenty-first.  On  the  afternoon  of 
the    twenty-second,    when    Lainey    returned    from 


84  Lainey's  Gift 

teaching,  Ann,  who  had  obviously  been  waiting  for 
her,  opened  the  door  before  Lainey  could  get  her 
key  out.  "  Come  right  out  into  the  kitchen,"  she 
commanded.  "  I've  got  a  surprise  for  you."  Her 
cheeks  flaming  with  what  was  undue  bloom  even  for 
them,  Ann  marched  straight  ahead.  "  There !  "  she 
exclaimed  triumphantly,  pointing. 

"  Oh,  Ann !  "  exclaimed  Lainey.  "  You  ducky 
darling!  That's  the  greatest  help.  I  did  so  want 
them,  and  yet  I  couldn't  see  where  I  was  going 
to  find  the  time.  I  did  think  of  hiring  somebody. 
Wasn't  it  awfully  hot  work?  " 

11  Well,"  said  Ann,  "  the  cranberries  strung  up 
fast  enough.  But  I  bet  my  right  arm  will  be  out 
of  commission  to-morrow  from  shaking  that  corn- 
popper,  and  I  think  I  actually  got  sunburned  from 
bending  over  the  fire.  But  somehow — it's  the 
queerest  thing — you  don't  mind  hard  work  when 
it's  for  Christmas.  And  Lainey  dear,  of  course  I'm 
coming  to  your  tree.  That  was  all  nonsense  about 
my  going  to  the  theater.  I  wouldn't  leave  you  for 
anything.  And  besides  I  think  it  will  be  great  fun 
having  a  party  of  our  very  own.  Just  think,  we've 
never  had  one." 

That  night,  after  the  others  had  dispersed  to 
their  various  engagements,  Matt  came  pussy-foot- 
ing into  Lainey's  room.  He  was  carrying  a  big, 
white  paper  bundle;  he  placed  it  on  the  bed. 
"  Lainey,"  he  began  eagerly,  after  he  had  closed 
and  locked  the  door,  "  I  got  something  for  your 
Christmas  tree  to-day.  It's  the  one  thing  I  par- 
ticularly remember  about — Mother  always  used  to 
have  one  hanging  from  the  top  of  the  tree.  I 
guess  I  went  to  a  dozen  places,  and  where  do  you 


Lainey's  Gift  85 

suppose  I  finally  found  it?  In  a  little  dago  joint 
at  the  North  End." 

Lainey  was  doing  her  hair;  she  dropped  her 
brush,  came  over  to  the  bed.  Matt  carefully  untied 
the  bundle.  It  was  wrapped  first  in  brown  paper, 
then  in  tissue,  then  in  excelsior;  but  there  finally 
plumped  out — 

"  Isn't  that  a  dandy?"  demanded  Matt. 

"  Matt,"  Lainey  said  ecstatically,  and  with  an 
unaccustomed  use  of  slang,  "  it's  a  corker !  And 
isn't  it  darling-looking?    It's  a  brunette." 

"  I  suppose  that's  because  it's  a  ginney,"  ex- 
plained Matt. 

A  little  silence  fell.  Lainey  resumed  her  place  at 
the  glass;  her  brush  swished  back  and  forth  over 
her  hair,  mowing  it  flat.  As  fast  as  it  passed  from 
her  brow,  however,  her  filmy  halo  immediately  flut- 
tered up,  dropped  its  golden  shadow  onto  her  little 
face.  Matt  watched  her,  shuffled,  wet  his  lips, 
swallowed,  turned  towards  the  door,  said: 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  Lainey,  I'm  awfully  sorry  I 
can't  be  home  for  the  Christmas  tree.  If  I'd  have 
known  in  time,  I  wouldn't  have  made  that  engage- 
ment." 

"  I'm  sorry  too,  Matt,"  said  Lainey. 

This  was  the  twenty-second.  The  morning  of  the 
twenty-third,  Beckie  came  into  Lainey's  room.  She 
held  a  pasteboard  box  in  her  hand.  It  was  early; 
Lainey  was  still  in  bed;  Beckie  still  wore  nightgown 
and  bed  shoes.  Downstairs,  Ann  wrestled  with  the 
stove.  "  Say,  Lainey,"  Beckie  began  in  a  low 
voice,  slipping  into  bed  beside  her  sister,  "  I've  got 
something   to   say    to   you   I    don't   want   Ann    to 


86  Lainey's  Gift 

hear.  To-day  I  bought  something  for  your  tree. 
Mother  used  to  have  them  on  hers.  Where  she 
got  them  I  don't  know.  IVe  never  seen  them  any- 
where else.  I  remember  them  perfectly  well  be- 
cause when  I  was  a  teeny-weeny  tot,  I  was  always 
trying  to,  get  at  them.  I  did  manage  to  pull  one 
off  once  and  they  yanked  it  away  from  me  just 
as  I  was  starting  to  bite  it.  Well,  I  got  the  idea 
into  my  head  to-day  that  I  wanted  to  get  some  for 
your  tree.  I  traipsed  way  downtown  and  spent 
my  entire  noon-hour  hunting  for  them.  And  where 
do  you  suppose  I  finally  found  them — in  that  little 
queer  toy-shop  kept  by  the  German  round  the 
corner  from  Dr.  Pierson's  office — you  remember, 
I  took  you  in  there  one  day."  She  lifted  the  cover 
from  the  box. 

"  Oh,  Beckie!  "  said  Lainey,  "  aren't  they  lovely  f 
I  never  saw  anything  so  beautiful !  " 

11  You  hang  them,"  Beckie's  enthusiasm  still 
flowed  fluently,  "  from  the  very  tips  of  the 
branches.  "  You  can't  imagine  how  they  glisten 
and  glitter — they  look  exactly  like  ice.  And,  Lainey, 
I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  that  I  can't  be  at 
your  tree — but  you  see — I  sort  of  feel  obliged — 
I  accepted  Aunt  Margaret's  invitation — and  she's 

such  a  queer  lonely  old  thing "     Beckie  finally 

got  to  the  end  of  her  stumbles. 

"  I'm  sorry  too,  Beckie,"  Lainey  said. 

When  Lainey  came  down  into  the  dining-room 
that  morning,  she  found  Ed,  unwontedly  early,  ex- 
amining his  paper.  Ann  was  still  staving  vigor- 
ously about  the  kitchen. 

"Why,  Ed!"  she  exclaimed.  "  How'd  you 
happen " 


Lainey's  Gift  87 

Ed's  finger  went  to  his  lips.  "  I  just  wanted  to 
tell  you,  Lainey,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  that  I 

left  an   order  yesterday "     The   kitchen   door 

opened;  Ed's  voice  lowered  automatically — "I'll 
tell  you  what  mother  used  to  do  with  it.     She  put 

bunches "     The  kitchen  door  shut;  Ed's  voice 

automatically  rose.  " — I  left  word  that  it  was  to 
be  delivered  to-day  sometime  between  four  and 
five,  when  I  knew  you  would  be  here  and  could  take 
care  of  it." 

"  Oh,  Ed!  Thank  you  so  much,"  exclaimed 
Lainey. 

"  I'm  sorry  that  I  made  that  week-end  en- 
gagement," Ed  went  on,  and  for  the  instant  Ed  stag- 
gered verbally — suave,  controlled,  self-possessed 
Ed — "  or  else  I'd  sure  come  to  your  tree." 

"  I'm  sorry  too,"  Lainey  said. 

"  It  looks  as  if  you  were  going  to  have  the  snow 
you  wanted,"  Ed  proceeded,  smoothly  changing  the 
subject  as  Ann  entered.  "  Old  Prob  prophesies 
falling  temperature  and  heavy  storms." 

This  was  the  twenty-second.  That  night  the  un- 
ease in  the  air  exploded.  The  twenty-third  broke  in 
a  whirl  of  white.  "  This  will  be  a  one-session  day 
all  right,"  exclaimed  Lainey  joyously,  as  she  looked 
out  the  window.  "  I'm  so  glad.  That  will  give  me 
the  whole  afternoon  to  work  on  the  tree." 

It  snowed  all  that  night.  It  continued  to  snow  all 
the  next  day.  At  noon  the  storm  ceased.  When 
Lainey  returned,  it  was  to  a  house  swathed  in  white, 
the  roof  smoothly  piled,  the  sides  symmetrically 
beveled,  to  a  yard  filled  with  cotton-wool  bushes  and 
trees.    The  sharp  hard  wind  had  silvered  and  crys- 


88  Lainey's  Gift 

tailed  and  diamonded  the  snow;  it  had  changed  the 
iron  sky  to  a  sheet  of  polished  steel;  it  had  filled 
the  air  with  frozen  flame. 

"Can't    I    help   trim    the    tree,    Lainey?"    Ann 
entreated. 

"No,"   said  Lainey  inexorably;   "  until  it's   fin- 
ished, nobody's  going  to  see  that  tree  but  me." 

And  so,  boxes  and  bundles  in  her  arms,  boxes  an< 
bundles  dangling  from  her  fingers,  boxes  and  bundh 
hanging  from  all  over  her,  Lainey  shut  herself  int( 
the  living-room  and,  though  Ann  sulked  and  R0I3 
languished,  spent  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  solitary 
her  task. 

At  eight  o'clock  that  night,  Ann  and  Lainey,  ai 
rayed  in  their  makeshift  evening-dresses,  Ann  wil 
a  coronet  of  holly  in  her  brown  hair,  Lainey  with 
spray  of  mistletoe  at  her  white  neck,  awaited  theii 
guests.  Roland — even  now  his  boy's  taste  balance< 
delicately  between  Ed's  correct  elegance  and  Matt' 
flamboyant  picturesqueness — wore  his  best  suit,  hi 
freshest  tie.  Lainey  sat  still  as  a  statue ;  at  interval* 
her  little  rocker  gave  a  convulsive  quiver;  but  Ai 
and  Roland  almost  rattled  with  restlessness. 

"  I  don't  think  anybody's  coming,"  Ann  burst  01 
at  last,  striking  the  lowest  note  of  pessimism. 

"  Well,  Ann,"  Lainey  answered,  a  hysteric  ril 
in  her  voice  betraying  frazzled  nerves,  "  gr 
them  time.  I  told  them  the  tree  would  be  a 
nine." 

"  One  hour  more,"  Ann  groaned.  "  This  is  th 
worst  about  having  company — waiting  for  them  t 
come." 

"  What  time  do  you  want  the  ice-cream  served? 
Rolarfd  asked. 


Lainey's  Gift  89 

"About  eleven,"  answered  Lainey.  "There, 
there's  the  bell." 

"  I  bet  it's  Aunt  Lot,"  said  Ann,  brightening. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  answered  Lainey.  "  It's  too 
early."    She  ran  to  the  door. 

14  An  unexpected  guest,"  she  announced,  return- 
ing, stars  forming  in  the  depths  of  her  eyes.  She 
stood  aside  to  usher  in — 

44  Beckie  Ollivant!  "  Ann  exclaimed. 

14 1  got  as  far  as  Watertown,"  Beckie  explained 
volubly.  u  And  there — All  the  week,  I've  been 
feeling  that  I  didn't  want  to  go  to  Aunt  Margaret's 
and  leave  you  children  all  alone  here.  Still,  I  didn't 
want  to  disappoint  Aunt  Margaret.  But  when  I 
got  into  the  Watertown  car,  it  all  came  over  me. 
Here  was  Aunt  Margaret  with  plenty  of  money 
and  entertaining  a  half-dozen  of  Uncle  Hi's  rela- 
tions. What  did  they  care  about  me  or  me  about 
them?  So  I  just  hopped  out  of  the  car  at  the 
transfer-station,  called  Aunt  Margaret  up  on  the 
'phone,  and  explained  how  you  three  would  be  all 
alone  and — She  said,  of  course,  to  go  right  home 
and  here  I   am.     You  needn't  do   anything  about 

those "     she     added    mysteriously,     addressing 

Ann.     "  I  mean  what's  in  my  closet.     I'll  attend  to 
them  myself." 

"Lainey  said  the  tree  would  be  at  nine,"  Ann 
greeted  Beckie's  gift-laden  return  from  upstairs. 
44 1  tell  her  that  was  too  late.  I  feel  as  though  I'd 
been  waiting  ever  since  noon." 

44  Well,  of  course  Vm  glad  she  put  it  late," 
Beckie  said  with  emphasis,  handing  her  bundles  to 
Lainey.  "There,  there's  the  bell!  They've  come, 
I  guess." 


90  Lainey's  Gift 

Again  Lainey  flew  to  the  door. 

"  Another  unexpected  guest,"  she  announced,  tf 
turning.      The    stars    in    her    eyes    were    pricking 
through  their  irises.    She  stood  aside  to  usher  in 

"  Matt!  M  the  others  called  in  chorus. 

11  Where  did  you  come  from?  "  Beckie  exclaime 
"  When  I  cajled  you  up  at  six,  you  were  starting  f 
Worcester.     Didn't  you  go?" 

11  Part  way,"  Matt  confessed.  "  But  at  the  last 
moment,  Lory  decided  to  give  up  that  walking-tri 
— and — I  didn't  want  to  sit  round  for  two  da 
with  Lory's  folks.  Still,  I  suppose  I'd  have  ke 
the  engagement — but  just  beyond  Natick  we  got 
stalled  for  half  an  hour — snow  on  the  track.  I  got 
so  sick  of  waiting  that  I  just  got  out  and  cut  across 
to  the  trolley.  That  was  about  seven.  I've  been 
all  this  time  getting  here." 

"  Well,  I'm  so  glad  you're  here,  Matt,"  approvec 
Beckie.    "  Now,  if  only  Ed— What  time  is  it?  " 

11  Quarter   to   nine,"    said   Lainey.      "  Oh,    her 
comes  Auntie  Jennison.    I  can  hear  her  voice." 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  they  were  all  assembled 
Auntie    Jennison,    little,    silver-haired,    strung    or 
wires,  with  tiny,  clearly-shining  gray  eyes  set  in  « 
face  like  carved  ivory;  Uncle  Larry,  snowy-haired 
rosy-faced,  bluff,  hearty;  Lila — Beckie's  age — wit! 
some  of  her   father's  comfortable   comeliness   an< 
her  mother's   enduring  spirit;   the   Murrays — als> 
Beckie's    age — beautiful,    debonair,    golden-blond 
Betsy;  dark,  quiet,  strong-featured  Martha;  silen' 
unassertive,  pepper-and-salt  Bob;  slim-waisted,  slin 
wristed,   slim-ankled  Aunt  Lottie,  brisk  and  viv; 
cious;  tall,   grizzled  Cousin  Emlen,   soldierly  an  1 


LSt 

i 


Lainey's  Gift  91 

impassive.  They  sat  with  their  laps  heaped  high 
with  packages. 

"  Now,"  said  Lainey,  u  it's  just  nine  o'clock. 
We'll  go  into  the  living-room  at  once."  Her  hand 
went  to  the  seam  of  the  folding-door,  faltered  in- 
explicably there  an  instant. 

14  Why,  there's  the  bell  again !  "  exclaimed  Beckie. 
44  Who  can  that  be?" 

Lainey  flew  to  the  door.  She  returned,  the  stars 
set  in  dewdrops  hanging  from  the  tips  of  her 
lashes;  ushered  in — calm,  handsome,  immaculately- 
elegant  in  his  evening-clothes — 

44  Ed!  "  everybody  exclaimed. 

44 1  got  out  of  my  week-end  engagement  at  the 
last  moment,"  Ed  explained  from  the  midst  of  the 
women,  who  immediately  swarmed  about  him.  His 
words  came  in  spurts,  jounced  from  his  lips  by  vio- 
lent huggings.  44 — to  start  to-morrow — train — ex- 
pected taken  off — stayed  to  dinner — saw  them  off — 
North  Station — Did  you  bring  down — bottom — 
closet— Ann?    All  right." 

Now  the  doors,  moving  at  Lainey's  touch,  parted 
slowly,  slid  into  the  walls.  And  suddenly  they  were 
looking  into  the  heart  of  the  holiday.  Christmas 
green  garlanded  the  woodwork,  framed  the  pic- 
tures, looped  from  the  chandelier  to  the  ceiling. 
Directly  in  front,  the  tree  filled  the  big  window. 
Over  it,  like  a  spray  thrown  from  a  fountain,  hung 
the  Christmas  mist  of  silver  and  gold.  About  it 
wound  strings  of  cranberries  and  popcorn.  On 
every  spot  that  offered  coign  of  vantage  glistened 
and  glimmered,  or  glittered  and  gleamed,  or 
sparkled  and  shone,  or  shimmered  and  sheened,  a 


92  Lainey's  Gift 

rainbow  toy.     From  its  top,  very  pink-tinted  as  t( 
plump  plaster  body,  very  expansive  as  to  blue-and- 
gilt  wings,  very  brunette  as  to  black-painted  hair, 
swung   a   Christmas   angel.    At   its   foot,    bunche< 
masses  of  crimson-berried  holly  and  white-berriei 
mistletoe.   From  every  branch-tip  dropped  long,  thin, 
glass  icicles.  ♦ 

"Lainey!"  Beckie  exclaimed,  "  where  did  yoi 
get  that  angel?  Mother  always  had  one — only  hen 
was  blonde." 

And— 

"  Lainey!  "  Ed  exclaimed.    "  Are  those  the  same 
glass  icicles  that  mother  used  to  have  on  her  tree 
Where  have  they  been  all  these  years?     Remembei 
the  time  you  tried  to  bite  one,  Beckie?  " 

And— 

"  Lainey !  "  Matt  exclaimed.  "  How  did  yoi 
know  that  mother  always  put  holly  and  mistletoe 
round  the  bottom  of  her  tree?  " 

11  It's  time  to  begin,"  Lainey  said  importantly, 
answering  no  one  of  them.  "  Ed,  you  are  to  b< 
Santa  Claus." 

An  hour  later,  they  sat  in  separate  nests  of  con- 
fusion; heavy  brown  wrapping  paper,  thin  browi 
wrapping  paper,  thinner  white  wrapping  paper, 
thinnest  white  tissue  paper,  wooden  boxes,  cardboard 
boxes,  cotton-wool,  excelsior,  string,  cord,  ribbon, 
rope.  Everybody  was  saying,  M  Oh,  look  at  this ! 
Isn't  it  lovely?  "  And  nobody  was  looking  or  listen- 
ing. Everybody  was  trying  to  thank  everybody  else 
and  nobody  was  succeeding.  Everybody  was  play- 
ing with  the  grotesque  toys,  of  which  Matt  was  the 
donor,  or  adorning  himself  with  the  Brobdingnagiar 


Lainey's  Gift  93 

brummagem  jewelry,  of  which  Ed  had  apparently 
bought  a  job  lot. 

"Well,  Ed,"  Auntie  Jennison  said,  withdrawing 
with  Aunt  Lottie  from  the  racket,  "  I  can't  tell  you 
how  glad  I  am  that  you  children  decided  to  have 
this  tree.  For  years,  life  has  been  pretty  hard 
on  you.  But  you're  all  grown  up  now,  and  you're 
going  to  pull  out  of  it.  But  you'll  get  away  much 
quicker  by  pulling  together  than  pulling  separately. 
A  party  like  this  makes  you  feel  as  though  you 
were  a  family  again.     Don't  you  think  so,  Lottie?  " 

"  It's  exactly  what  I've  been  saying,"  Aunt  Lottie 
agreed  eagerly.  "  Nothing  would  delight  their 
mother  more.  It's  just  as  if  the  old  days  had  come 
back.  Why,  I  suppose  I've  been  to  a  dozen  Christ- 
mas trees  in  this  very  room.  Don't  you  remember 
how  Jennie  used  to  decorate  her  father's  and 
mother's  pictures?  How  little  she  thought  that 
some  day  these  children  would  be  decorating  hers!  " 

They  looked  in  silence  for  a  instant  at  Mrs. 
Ollivant's  portrait.  Robustly  slim,  richly  blonde, 
sweetness  and  ardor  dwelt  in  her  misty  blue  eyes, 
humor  and  firmness  in  her  curved  pink  lips.  She 
smiled  back  at  her  two  old  friends  from  the  frame 
of  evergreen  that  inclosed  her. 

"  Lord,  what  a  gay  creature  she  was !  "  Auntie 
Jennison  exclaimed. 

"  I've  never  seen  her  like,"  Aunt  Lottie  answered 
simply.  "  Ann's  most  like  her.  Sometimes  there'll 
be  tones  in  her  voice  or  a  sudden  motion — land, 
how  it  takes  me  back !  " 

"  Lainey's  most  like  her  father,"  Aunt  Jennison 
added.  "  Lainey  and  you,  Ed.  It's  queer,  too,  when 
you're  both  blondes." 


94  Lainey's  Gift 

They  looked  at  Mr.  Ollivant's  picture.     Olive 
skinned,    jet-haired,   gray-eyed,    he    surveyed   the 
with  his  keen,  amused  glance. 

"  Beckie  looks  like  him  too,"  Aunt  Jennison  con 
eluded. 

"  Oh  yes.  Beckie  favors  the  Ollivants  and 
Roly,"  Aunt  Lottie  added,  "  but  somehow  you  and 
Lainey,  Ed,  are  more  like  him.  My  land,  what 
a  host  he  was.  He  could  make  a  success  of  an 
party." 

"  Matt's  the  odd  one,"  Auntie  Jennison  com 
mented,  "  but  he's  more  like  Jen's  folks  than  you 
father's."  > 

Unconscious,  apparently,  of  the  excitement  swirl- 
ing about  her,  Lainey  had  spent  the  whole  hour 
hovering  about  the  tree,  attending  it  as  though  it 
were  a  bride.  Now  she  stood  still,  dreamily  look- 
ing up  at  the  plaster  angel. 

Ed  had  collected  her  presents  as  fast  as  he  came 
across  them.  Now  he  spread  them  out  in  a  big  box 
cover,  crossed  the  room  to  Lainey's  side. 

"  Your  gifts,  Mademoiselle  Noel,"  he  said. 

Lainey  looked  vaguely  down.  The  box-covei 
offered  every  high-colored  allurement  of  Christmas 
mystery;  boxes,  most  of  them,  and  obviously  jew- 
eler's some ;  all  wrapped  with  bright-colored  Christ- 
mas paper,  tied  with  lustrous  Christmas  ribbon,  fas- 
tened with  gay-hued  Christmas  seals,  decorated  with 
red-berried  Christmas  sprigs.  Then  she  looked  up 
again.  Twin  Christmas  trees — tiny — lay  reflected 
in  her  eyes. 

"  Ed,"  Lainey  said,  meeting  her  brother's  com- 
prehending look,  "  I  really  don't  deserve  any 
Christmas  gifts.     I've  had  mine." 


CHAPTER  V 

ROLAND'S  FRIEND 

"QAY,  Beck,"  said  Roland  Ollivant  with  an  al- 
lj  most  too  careful  display  of  carelessness,  "  can 
I  bring  a  friend  of  mine  here  to  Sunday  dinner — a 
girl?" 

Roland  watched  Beckie  as,  with  quick  dashing 
clutches,  she  picked  the  glasses  from  the  hot  dish- 
water. He  stood,  one  hand  on  the  door-knob, 
superficially  degage  but  visibly  poised  for  flight. 
He  wore  his  other  suit,  which  meant  that  he  was 
going  out;  and  he  wore  his  most  debonair  aspect, 
which  meant  that  the  affair  was  important.  Al- 
though he  was  the  youngest  of  the  family,  his 
swart  coloring  made  him  seem  older  than  Lainey, 
and  Lainey  was  older  than  Ann.  He  was  as  pic- 
turesque as  Ann,  but  there  was  an  alien  Latin  olive 
quality  to  his  coloring.  Ann  was  not  olive,  she  was 
brown;  and  she  looked  like  an  American. 

"What's  her  name?"  Beckie  inquired  before 
she  answered.  She  stopped  now,  the  dish-mop 
poised  in  one  hand,  the  soap-shaker  in  the  other, 
and  stared  through  the  rising  steam  at  her  brother. 
Beckie,  who  knew  that  Ann  had  a  fastidious  dis- 
taste to  putting  her  hands  in  hot  water,  had  insisted 
on  washing  the  dishes  herself.  She  had,  however, 
brought  the  pan  onto  the  bared  dining-room  table. 
She  wore  the  long  enveloping  apron  and  the  white 

95 


96  Roland's  Friend 

sweeping  cap  that  with  her  always  predicted  house- 
work. Ann  and  Lainey  stood  with  drying  towels 
in  their  hands,  Ann  trim,  erect,  yet  softly  curved 
under  her  crisply-starched  white  middy  suit;  Lainey 
in  a  muslin  that  hung  limp  and  crushed  over  the 
right  angles  of  her  little  figure.  They  stared  at 
Roland  too. 

11  Barton,"  Roland  answered  nonchalantly,  "Bird 
Barton." 

"  Bird!  "  Beckie  repeated.     "  What  a  name  !  " 

14  It's  a  nickname/'  Roland  interposed  quickly, 
"  her  real  name's  Gertrude." 

"  Where'd  you  meet  her?"  Beckie  went  on,  drop- 
ping the  soap-shaker  into  the  water  and  frothing 
up  a  whirlpool  of  suds. 

"  Oh — out  somewhere,"  Roland  answered 
vaguely. 

"  Where  does  she  live?  " 

"  In  Boston — but  she's  not  been  here  very  long. 
She's  a  New  York  girl." 

"  Yes — of  course  you  can,"  Beckie  answered  at 
last,  inserting  the  dish-mop  under  the  silver  and 
making  with  it  a  brisk  clatter. 

"New  York!"  Ann  repeated  simultaneously. 
"What  kind  of  a  looking  girl  is  she?"  she  de- 
manded with  interest. 

"  Oh,  she's  a  peach  looker  all  right — a  pippin," 
Roland  answered  promptly  and  enthusiastically. 

"  Blonde  or  brunette?"  Ann  continued  to  probe. 

11  Gee,  I  don't  know,  I  never  noticed." 

11  If  that  isn't  just  like  you,  Roly  Ollivant,"  Ann 
said  in  despair,  "  not  to  notice  whether  a  girl's  a 
blonde  or  a  brunette !  Are  her  eyes  blue  or  brown 
or  black?  " 


Roland's  Friend  97 

"  Search  me,"  Roland  answered  hopelessly,  after 
a  visible  plunge  into  memory.  "  Like  Lainey's,  I 
think.    What  color  are  yours,  Lainey?" 

"Pink!"  Ann  answered  scathingly.  "How  old 
is  she  ?  "  she  went  on  in  the  same  relentless  tone. 

Roland  shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other.  "  Oh, 
about  eighteen,  I  guess." 

"  That  means  she's  twenty-three  at  least,"  Ann 
decided. 

"What  does  she  do?"  Lainey,  soft-voiced,  pur- 
sued the  investigation. 

M  Don't  know,"  Roland  answered,  "  never  asked 
her.  She's  a  smart  girl  all  right.  Knows  an  awful 
lot.  Talks  high-brow  stuff  sometimes.  And  Lord, 
the  books  she's  read." 

"  I  think  she  must  be  very  interesting,"  Lainey 
said  with  conviction. 

u  I'm  going  to  see  her  to-night,"  Roland  went 
on.    "  I'll  invite  her." 

11  Well,  she's  a  queer  kind  of  a  girl,  Roly,  if  she'd 
come  on  your  invitation,"  Ann  remarked  in  a  supe- 
rior tone.     "Wait,  I'll  write  her  a  note." 

Ann  dropped  her  dish-towel,  ran  over  to  the 
big  old  desk  in  the  living-room.  She  drew  from 
one  pigeonhole  a  huge  sheet  of  yellow  paper,  peb- 
bled like  a  thin  layer  of  granite,  a  green  monogram 
in  the  lower  right-hand  corner;  drew  from  another 
a  massive  square  envelope  with  a  green  monogram 
in  the  upper  left-hand  corner,  plucked  from  one 
drawer  her  special  stub  pen,  from  another  her  green 
ink,  from  another  her  sealing-wax  paraphernalia. 
She  wrote  swiftly  in  a  big  broad-stroked  hand  which, 
with  a  superficial  effect  of  clearness,  was  almost 
illegible.     "There,"  she  said  at  last  in  a  tone  of 


98  Roland's  Friend 

satisfaction,  "  I'll  read  it.  *  My  dear  Miss  Barton 
My  sisters  and  I  will  be  delighted  if  you  will  dine 
informally  with  us  Sunday  the  eighteenth.  Dinner 
is  served  at  two  o'clock.  Very  sincerely  yours,  Ann 
Ollivant.'    How's  that?" 

"  Just  right,"  Lainey  approved. 

"  I  like  that  informally,"  Ann  said.  "  It  sounds 
so  swell — as  if  sometimes  we  gave  formal  dinners. 
Oh,  how  I  adore  anything  formal.  I'd  just  love  to 
give  a  formal  function  some  time,  wouldn't  you, 
Beck?" 

"  No,"  said  Beckie  with  instant  decision,  "  I'd 
hate  it;  I  wouldn't  have  a  good  time." 

11  Well,  you're  not  supposed  to  have  a  good  time 
at  a  formal  function,"  Ann  said  impatiently.  "  You'd 
like  to  give  formal  things,  wouldn't  you,  Lainey?" 
Ann  looked  pleadingly  at  her  sister  for  sympathy 
with  this  high  social  ideal. 

14  Well,  I'd  be  a  little  scared,  I  think,"  Lainey 
answered  weakly. 

"  Nothing  of  a  social  nature  would  ever  scare 
me,"  Ann  said  in  a  superior  tone.  "Where  does 
she  live,  Roly?"  She  folded  the  massive  sheet, 
slipped  it  into  the  massive  envelope,  rummaged  in 
the  desk  for  the  one-cent  stamps,  whose  green  went 
better  with  her  yellow  paper  than  the  two-cent  red, 
addressed  it  at  her  brother's  dictation,  scorning  ab- 
breviation even  to  Massachusetts,  sealed  it  with  a 
fat  green  seal  on  the  rectangular  envelope  flap. 
"  There,  now  I  guess  she'll  know  we're  nice  people," 
she  said  with  satisfaction,  handing  it  to  her  brother. 
11  Mail  it  at  once,  Roly.  Don't  wait  until  it  gets 
all  dirty  and  smells  of  cigarettes.  I'm  dying  to  see 
what   Roly   calls   a   pippin,"   she   announced  gaily 


Roland's  Friend  99 

when  the  front  door  closed.  "  I  bet  she's  a  scream. 
Men  have  such  funny  ideas  of  what's  a  pretty 
girl." 

"  Roly  has  very  good  taste,  though,  in  other 
things,"  Lainey  said.     "  I've  often  noticed  it." 

"  Yes,"  Ann  conceded,  "  I  really  like  his  ties  much 
better  than  Ed's  or  Matt's.  I  always  borrow  from 
Roly." 

On  Sunday  she  was  far  and  away  the  most  ex- 
cited of  the  three  girls.  She  dusted  the  living-room 
carefully,  rearranging  the  furniture  for  the  third 
time  since  she  had  taken  charge  of  the  house.  She 
brought  out  the  few  family  treasures  of  china  and 
silver  for  the  dining-room.  She  dressed  with  par- 
ticular care  as  to  green  silk  stockings  and  mani- 
cured nails.  She  did  her  hair  in  three  new  ways, 
but  reverted  finally  to  her  favorite  fashion;  a 
braided  knob,  glossy  as  a  bunch  of  grapes,  mound- 
ing behind  each  shell-pink  ear,  a  scalloping  claw, 
filmy  as  a  burnished  shadow,  clutching  each  peach- 
blow  cheek.  She  did  not  actually  station  herself  at 
the  window,  but  she  kept  casting  furtive  glances  up 
the  empty,  brightly-silent  Sunday  street.  When 
the  door-bell  finally  pealed  a  quick  vigorous  signal, 
she  held  Roland  back  for  a  proper  interval.  And, 
"  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Barton?"  she  said  in  a 
formal  tone  when  finally,  Roland  at  her  elbow,  she 
opened  the  door. 

u  How  do  you  do?  "  came  to  Beckie  and  Lainey  in 
a  voice  quite  as  formal  as  Ann's.  It  was  a  cool, 
clear,  silvery-white  voice.  Indeed,  in  contrast,  it 
gave  Ann's  notes  an  effect  of  a  deep  color,  of  a  rich 
duskiness,  of  a  soft  warmth.  "  Oh,  how  do  you  do, 
Roland,"  it  went  on,   "now  which  sister  is  this? 


ioo  Roland's  Friend 

Ann?  I  thought  so,  although  you  don't  look  the 
least  bit  the  way  I  expected  you  to.  You  never  told 
me  she  was  so  pretty,"  she  reproached  Roland. 

"  Well,  Roly  told  me  just  exactly  how  pretty  you 
were,"  Ann  replied  with  an  unexpected  touch  of 
gallantry. 

"Oh,  did  he?"  The  clear  voice  broke  into 
clearer  laughter.  "  I  bet  he  couldn't  tell  you  what 
color  my  eyes  were."  The  light  tones  continued  to 
weave  in  and  out  of  Ann's  fuller  ones:  "  Oh, 
Roly's  the  youngest!"  "He's  only  sixteen!" 
14  Good  heaven.  I  knew  he  was  young  but — isn't  he 
an  amusing  kid?  "  Both  voices  floated  out  of  hear- 
ing upstairs.  All  Beckie  and  Lainey  got  was  a 
glimpse  of  a  slim  black  pony-coat  and  a  little  black 
pony-cap. 

Roland  returned  to  the  living-room,  fidgeted,  sat 
down,  fidgeted,  got  up,  fidgeted,  lay  on  the  couch, 
fidgeted,  arose,  fidgeted.  After  a  long  interval, 
the  two  girls  descended  the  stairs.  Ann  introduced 
their  guest. 

"  It's  very  nice  of  you,"  Miss  Barton  said  with 
composure,  addressing  herself  to  Beckie,  "  to  invite 
me  over  here  to-day.  I  haven't  been  in  Boston  so 
very  long  and  this  is  the  first  real  meal  I've  had  in 
anybody's  house.  You  do  get  so  tired  of  boarding- 
houses  and  restaurants." 

"  I  should  think  you  would,"  Beckie  said  mechan- 
ically. 

And,  "  You  must  come  to  see  us  often,"  Lainey 
mechanically  reinforced  her. 

"  Thank  you."  Coolly  Miss  Barton  looked  about 
the  living-room.  "  Isn't  this  charming?  This  is 
exactly  my  idea  of  a  Boston  household.     It  looks 


Rolapcfs  Friiervd;  101 

like  an  illustration  for  a  magazine  story  of  New- 
England.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  jumped  into  '  Little 
Women.'  "  Her  eyes  flashed  from  detail  to  detail. 
"  Nice  old  furniture !  Dickens  and  Thackeray  and 
Scott  in  faded  old-fashioned  sets!  A  Landseer,  a 
picture  of  Scott,  a  picture  of  Washington !  And  old 
family  portraits!  "  She  stopped  in  front  of  one  of 
them. 

"  That's  my  great-uncle,  General  Milliken,"  Ann 
said  in  a  tone  which,  in  vain,  she  tried  to  render 
casual. 

u  Curious !  "  their  visitor  murmured,  as  if  to  her- 
self. "  Generals  and  admirals  all  look  alike — at 
least  they  always  have  that  same  air.  I  have  al- 
ways wondered  if  it's  the  expression  of  greatness 

or "     She  pulled  herself  up  and  went  on.     "  I 

can't  tell  you  how  I  have  enjoyed  the  thought  of 
seeing  a  real  Boston  household.  You  get  so  tired 
of  boarding-house  furniture." 

"  I  should  think  you  would,"  Beckie  echoed  her- 
self mechanically. 

And,  "  You  must  come  to  see  us  often,"  again 
Lainey  mechanically  reinforced  her. 

"  Thank  you.  Boston  is  an  awfully  dead  little 
town,  isn't  it?  Absolutely  nothing  doing  evenings,  is 
there?  Of  course,  there's  the  theatre,  but  I  saw  all 
the  shows  that  are  here  now  last  winter  in  New 
York.  What  do  you  do  evenings?  Go  to  Night 
School?  It's  really  a  very  lonely  city  for  a  stranger 
to  come  to." 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  it  would  be,"  Beckie  me- 
chanically repeated. 

And,  "  You  must  come  to  see  us  often,"  Lainey 
mechanically  reiterated. 


102  Round's  Friend 

It  was  quite  apparent,  though,  that  neither  of  the 
girls  knew  what  she  was  saying.  Ann  tried  to  cove] 
their  abstraction  by  rushing  in  with  many  contemptu- 
ous general  statements  about  the  New  York  thai 
she  had  never  seen  and  secretly  burned  to  know. 
And  while  she  talked,  the  others  looked  their  fill 
at  Miss  Bird  Barton. 

Miss   Barton   was   as  slenderly  figured  and   as 
daintily  featured  as  though  she  had  been  cut  from 
alabaster  with  a  penknife.     A  reposeful  classicism 
of  contour  was  shot  by  a  perturbing  piquancy  of  ex- 
pression.   In  repose,  she  might  have  been  a  face  01 
a  Greek  coin,  in  laughter  on  a  French  poster;  so 
perfect   was  her   combination   of  straight  incisive 
lines  and  soft  vanishing  dimples.    Her  hair  hung  like 
a  cloud  of  smoke  about  her  face.    Her  long  blacl 
lashes  curled  away  from  her  gray  eyes  in  such  man- 
ner as  to  push  her  starry  gaze  forward.    Her  flex- 
ible lips  curved  up  from  her  little  teeth  in  such  man- 
ner as  to  set  her  smile  deep.     Light  played  in  an< 
out  of  her  dimples,  ran  under  and  over  her  eye- 
lashes, flashed  back  and  forth  from  teeth  to  lips. 
With  this  combination  a  very  white  skin  and  vei 
red  lips  seemed  necessary;  Miss  Barton's  skin  was 
strangely  white,  her  lips  strikingly  red. 

After  some  preliminary  greetings  she  paid  no 
more  attention  to  Roland  than  as  though  he  had 
not  been  in  the  room.  But  she  continued  to  do  much 
of  the  talking.  First  she  discussed  New  York  and 
Boston  with  Ann,  laughing  at  Ann's  stringent  asper- 
sions of  the  metropolis  but  not  bothering  to  contra- 
dict them.  Then  she  discussed  books  with  Lainey. 
who  lived  mentally  in  a  misty  world  of  fiction  anc 
poetry.      Next    she    discussed    chafing-dish   recipe; 


Roland's  Friend  103 

with  Beckie,  who  had  the  born  cook's  interest  in 
food  combinations.  Just  before  dinner,  Matt  came 
in  and,  though  obviously  dumfounded  at  the  sight 
of  her,  managed  to  acknowledge  the  introduction. 
She  discussed  football,  baseball,  automobiles,  and 
flying-machines  with  Matt. 

But  all  through  this  impersonal  chatter  her  com- 
ment returned  again  and  again  to  the  house  and  its 
furnishings.  She  commented  on  the  Sheraton  desk, 
their  great  treasure,  the  roomy  shabby  old-fashioned 
davenport,  the  shelves  painted  white  which,  in  the 
dining-room,  had  taken  the  place  of  the  old  black 
walnut  sideboard,  the  blue  Canton  plates  which  were 
all  that  were  left  of  Mrs.  Ollivant's  wedding  china, 
the  beautiful  old  knives  and  forks  with  their  silver 
blades  and  pearl  handles  which  were  all  that  were 
left  of  her  silver.  And  again  and  again  her  look 
came  in  interested  question  to  the  severe  expres- 
sion of  General  Milliken. 

After  dinner,  she  continued  to  hold  the  conversa- 
tional reins,  but  her  talk  grew  a  little  more  auto- 
biographical. In  New  York,  she  had  done  many 
things.  She  had  been  manicure-girl  in  a  smart  Fifth 
Avenue  beauty-parlor  and  telephone-girl  in  a  smart 
Fifth  Avenue  hotel.  Then  she  had  given  up  both 
these  positions  because  she  did  not  like  them.  Then 
she  had  taken  the  maid's  part  in  a  Broadway  pro- 
duction; she  had  worked  as  a  reporter  on  a  news- 
paper. She  had  lost  both  these  jobs  because  she 
failed  to  make  good.     Then,  for  a  while,  she  had 

i   posed  for  a  group  of  illustrators.     She  had  aban- 
doned this  occupation,  for  reasons  she  did  not  state. 

i   She  had  come  to  Boston  on  impulse.    Here  her  con- 

!   fidences  ceased. 


104  Roland's  Friend 

Other  details  came  out.  Lainey  complimente< 
her  on  her  simple  black  gown  with  its  edging  oi 
fur — she  had  made  it,  dyeing  herself  an  old  white 
china  silk.  Ann  spoke  of  her  piquant  little  fur  ca] 
— she  had  made  that,  cutting  the  material  from  hei 
pony-coat  which  at  first  was  too  long.  Beckie  spok< 
of  a  little,  woven,  bead  watch-chain — she  had  mad( 
that  also,  crocheting  it  from  some  beads  her  mothei 
had  left  her. 

When  Beckie  asked  her  about  her  manicure  an< 
telephone  work,  she  said  it  was  often  interestinj 
but  not  always  pleasant.  When  Ann  asked  hei 
about  the  stage,  she  said  that  it  was  always  pleasant 
but  not  always  interesting.  When  Lainey  asked  hei 
about  newspaper-men,  she  said  that  they  were  gooc 
scouts,  but  all  drunks;  when  Matt  asked  her  about 
illustrators,  she  said  they  were  good  Indians,  but 
all  crazy. 

"  My  eye  !  "  she  exclaimed  suddenly.     "  You've 
given  me  such  a  good  time  that  I'd  almost  forgot- 
ten my  deadly  habit."     She  opened  the  little  bag 
that  hung  at  her  side,  fished  leisurely  in  the  bottom, 
brought  out  a   cigarette.     "A  light,   please,"   she 
said   to    the    astounded    Matt.     And   while    Matt 
searched  wildly  for  a  match,  she  fished  deeper  ir 
the  bag.    She  brought  out  first  a  tiny  mirror  whicl 
she  propped  up  on  the  table,  brought  out  next  : 
diminutive  powder-puff,  with  which  measurably  sh 
increased  that  white  tone  which  her  type  demanded 
brought  out  last  a  slender  lip-stick  with  which  mea? 
urably  she  increased  the  contrasting  red  which 
also  required. 

"  I   had  the  hardest  time   getting  the   right  li 
salve,"  she  said  casually,  still  staring  into  the  tir 


Roland's  Friend  105 

mirror.  "  Have  you  ever  noticed  that  most  of  them 
make  your  teeth  look  yellow?  I  guess  I  sampled 
fifty-seven  varieties  before  I  found  this."  She  lifted 
her  mouth  for  their  inspection,  flashed  a  smile  of 
pearl  from  its  lake  of  crimson.  But  before  either 
of  the  girls  could  speak,  Matt  rasped  a  match 
alight,  held  it  down  to  her;  she  drew  in  a  long 
breath,  blew  out  the  match  with  the  exhalation.  It 
was  on  this  picture  that  Ed  came  when  he  opened 
the  door — an  Ed  frock-coated,  silken-hatted, 
gloved  and  carrying  a  stick,  returning  from  a  round 
of  Sunday  afternoon  calls. 

When  Roland  returned  from  seeing  Miss  Barton 
home,  the  girls  had  gone  to  bed;  but  Ed  was  reading 
in  the  living-room. 

11  Come  in  here  a  moment,  Roly,"  Ed  called 
curtly.  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you.  Shut  the  door!  " 
he  added.  And  as  Roland,  obeying  him,  turned 
a  surprised  face  in  his  direction,  Ed  continued. 
"  For  Heaven's  sake  what  do  you  mean  by  bringing 
that  girl  home  ?  Where'd  you  pick  her  up  ?  Don't 
you  know  a  chip  when  you  see  one?  Don't  you 
realize  the  difference  between  the  girls  you  can  know 
on  the  outside  and  those  you  introduce  to  your 
sisters?" 

It  was  as  though  he  had  struck  Roland  successive 
blows  on  an  undefended  face;  the  look  of  resent- 
ment that  came  into  it  was  dark,  like  a  bruise. 
"What  do  you  mean — chip?"  he  demanded. 
"  She  isn't  a  chip.  She's  as  nice  a  girl  as  I  ever  met 
— and  a  damn  smart  one." 

M  Oh  yes,"  Ed  coincided  sarcastically,  "  painted 
and   powdered   and    smoking    cigarettes — actorine, 


io6  Roland's  Friend 

model,  hello-girl,  manicure — What  the  deuce  is  she 
doing  now  for  a  living?  You'll  tell  me  next  she's 
got  a  rich  uncle  somewhere  who  gives  her  an  allow- 
ance. Roland,  you  don't  know  enough  to  come  in 
when  it  rains.  Now,  until  you  cut  your  eye  teeth, 
don't  bring  any  more  girls  home !  Play  round  with 
them  as  much  as  you  want,  but  keep  them  where 
they  belong.  I'll  see  that  this  one  doesn't  come  here 
again.  But  she  won't  want  to.  She  knew  I  got  her 
number  when  I  asked  her  those  hundred-odd  ques- 
tions." 

All  Roly's  sixteen-year-old  pride  flared  in  his 
heavy  blush.  He  emitted  a  low  growl,  half  defi- 
ance, half  embarrassment,  all  perplexity.  "  Well, 
I  don't  care  what  you  say — she's  a  nice  girl  and  I 
like  her." 

"Were  you  introduced  to  her?"  Ed  demanded. 

"  No,"  Roly  admitted.  "  But  I  don't  believe  any- 
thing you  say  about  her  is  true.  And  I'm  going  to 
see  her  to-morrow  night." 

"  See  her  all  you  want,"  Ed  snapped  at  the 
height  of  his  exasperation,  "  and  as  long  as  you  want 
and  where  you  want  except  in  your  own  home — you 
damn  young  fool,  you.  You'll  pal  round  with  that 
kind  for  a  while;  then  you'll  cut  them  out."  He 
dropped  his  head  into  his  book. 

After  an  instant  of  rebellion,  silent  and  irresolute, 
Roland  went  upstairs  to  bed. 

"  Well,"  Lainey  said,  coming  in  late  the  next  night 
at  dinner,  "  I'm  so  glad  you  brought  that  Bird  Barton 
home,  Roly!  I  think  she's  an  intensely  interesting 
girl.  And  so  beautiful.  I  want  to  know  her  bet- 
ter.    I  took  a  great  fancy  to  her  and  she  seemed 


Roland's  Friend  107 

to  like  me.  I  got  a  special  delivery  letter  from  her 
at  the  school  to-day,  asking  me  if  I'd  come  to  din- 
ner with  her  to-night.  I  didn't  do  that — but  I 
met  her  after  work  and  walked  home  with  her — 
that's  why  I'm  so  late.  She's  invited  me  to  come 
and  spend  overnight  with  her  next  Friday,  and  I've 
invited  her  to  come  over  here  and  spend  Saturday 
night  with  us." 

Roland,  still  a  little  haggard  after  a  troubled 
night,  dropped  his  eyes  to  his  grapefruit.  But 
Ed — never  had  his  clean-cut  blondness  seemed 
more  pink  and  white — raised  his  look  from  his 
paper. 

u  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  Lainey,"  he  or- 
dered explicitly.  "  You're  not  to  have  anything  more 
to  do  with  that  girl." 

Lainey  stiffened.  She  turned  directly  to  her 
brother.  All  the  vagueness  went  out  of  her  eyes. 
They  seemed  to  shoot  forward  to  the  front  of  the 
deep  tunnels  in  which  they  were  set.  They  became 
clear,  hard,  polished  like  tiny  mirrors.  "  Why 
not?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  I  don't  consider  her  the  kind  of 
girl  you  ought  to  know,"  Ed  replied  in  a  rigid 
voice,  "  making  up  and  smoking  cigarettes  and 
drifting  round  from  place  to  place  the  way  she 
does." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  disagree  with  you,  Ed,"  Lainey 
said  with  composure,  M  but  I  do.  About  the  making- 
up  and  cigarette-smoking  I've  nothing  to  say.  I 
consider  that  nobody's  business  but  her  own.  As 
for  the  drifting  around,  as  you  call  it,  I  admire  her 
unspeakably  for  that.  She  told  me  that  as  long 
as  she  couldn't  afford  to  travel,  she  was  going  to 


108  Roland's  Friend 

work  her  way  gradually  from  city  to  city  until  she1 
been  all  over  the  United  States." 

"Well,  she'll  have  no  difficulty,"  Ed  prophesie 
grimly,  "  in  finding  work." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Ed?  "    There  w 
an  icy  edge  on  Lainey' s  soft  voice. 

"  I  mean,  I  think  she's  a  questionable  girl." 

"  You  lie !  "  exclaimed  Roland,  jumping  to  hi 
feet. 

"  Shut  up,  you !  "  Ed  shot  at  his  younger  brother 

"  I  think  you're  mistaken,  Ed,"  Lainey  said,  wit 
no  diminution  of  her  courage.  "  But  as  long  a 
you  made  this  charge,  I'll  ask  you  to  substantiat 
it  with  some  facts." 

But  before  Ed  could  speak,  "  I  do  not  wish  to 
hear  them,"  Ann  said  virtuously. 

Neither  Ed  nor  Lainey  paid  any  attention   t 
Ann.     But   Ed's    golden    eyelashes    fluttered, 
have  no   facts,"   he   admitted,   "  except   Roly  say 
that  he  was  never  introduced  to  her,  that  he  picked 
her  up." 

11 1  didn't,"   Roly  contradicted  miserably.     "  A 
least  it  wasn't  what  I  call  a  pick-up.     It  was  on  th 
Nantasket  boat  in  the  fall;  we  were  both  lookin 
over  the  rail,  and  when  we  passed  Nix's  Mate  she 
asked  me  what  it  was.     I  told  her  and  then  we 
began  to  talk  and " 

"  A  method  that  first  came  into  vogue  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden,"  Ed  interrupted  sarcastically. 

"  All  right,"  said  Lainey,  M  I'm  a  questionable 
girl  too.  Last  Saturday,  when  I  went  out  to  Cousir 
Edith's,  I  asked  the  young  man  next  to  me  when 
Echo  Bridge  was.  We  got  into  conversation  anc 
we  talked  all  the  time  I  was  in  the  car.     I  alway 


Roland's  Friend  109 

ask  men  questions  If  I  want  any  information.  If 
that's  picking  up,  I  must  have  picked  up  a  hundred 
men." 

The  look  of  exasperation  in  Ed's  face  changed  to 
the  bewilderment  that  so  often  came  into  it  when  he 
talked  with  Lainey.  "  It  isn't  a  practice  that  I  rec- 
ommend to  you,"  he  said  coldly.  "  Some  man  will 
misinterpret  it  some  day." 

11  All  right."  Lainey  compressed  her  lips.  "  Let 
him!    I'm  waiting  for  him/9 

Ed  smiled  in  spite  of  himself.  "  Any  man  would 
know  you  were  a  good  girl.  He's  only  got  to  look 
at  you." 

"  You  mean  that  I'm  not  pretty  and  that  I'm 
dowdy,"  Lainey  conjectured  shrewdly.  "  I  guess 
you're  not  paying  me  a  compliment  exactly." 

"  Lainey,"  Ed  said  impatiently,  "  you're  talking 
nonsense  and  you  know  you  are.  However,  I  don't 
want  that  girl  in  the  house  and  I  won't  have  her 
here." 

11  All  right,"  said  Lainey,  "  you  don't  have  to. 
I  don't  consider,  though,  that  you've  proved  any- 
thing against  her.  I'll  tell  you  right  here  that  it 
doesn't  make  any  difference  to  me  if  she's  what 
you  call  a  questionable  girl  or  not,  except " — she 
stopped  and  chose  her  words  carefully — u  if  she 
were  a  questionable  girl  and  she  really  wanted  my 
friendship  I'd  give  it  to  her.  I  don't  see  how  I 
could  do  anything  else  and  pretend  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian. I  consider  it  my  duty  as  a  woman  to  try  to 
make  up  to  those  women  for  the  injuries  that  you 
men  inflict  upon  them.  However,  I  know  this  girl 
is  what  you  call  a  '  nice  '  girl.  How  I  know  I  can't 
tell — but  I  do.     Now,  if  you  don't  want  her  here> 


no  Roland's  Friend 


you  don't  have  to  have  her,  but  I  shall  go  there 
next  Friday  night  just  the  same." 

"  Lainey."  Ed's  tone  was  slightly  baffled.  "  Show 
some  common  sense.  A  woman  can't  live  on  air. 
What  does  she  do  for  a  living?  " 

44  She's  a  shop-girl,"  Lainey  answered  directly. 
"  She  calls  it  store-girl.  She's  in  Morgan  Rector's 
book  department.  She  told  me  last  night  when  I 
was  helping  her  on  with  her  things." 

14  Well,"  Ed  demanded,  though  this  had  given 
him  palpable  pause,  u  do  you  want  to  associate  with 
store-girls?  " 

14 1  want  to  associate  with  any  girl  who's  as  in- 
teresting as  Bird,"  Lainey  said  without  an  instant's 
hesitation.  "  She's  the  most  lovely  creature  I've 
seen  in  a  long  time." 

44  What  do  you  think  about  it?  "  Ed  turned  to  his 
other  sisters,  his  tone  definitely  nonplused. 

Beckie  and  Ann  had  been  following  this  contest 
with  interest.  At  the  beginning  unmistakably  thei 
took  Ed's  side.  Later  unmistakably  they  veere< 
to  Lainey's.  Now,  unmistakable  again,  they  pivote< 
back  to  Ed. 

Ann  spoke.  "  I  don't  think  I  care  to  associate  witl 
shop-girls.  People  judge  you  by  the  kind  ol 
people  you  go  with.  And  we've  always  been  nice 
people." 

14  What  do  you  mean  by  nice  people?"  Lainey 
clemanded.  It  was  strange  to  hear  Lainey  use  that 
steely  tone  to  Ann. 

"Why,"  Ann  exclaimed  in  a  surprised  tone, 
44  what  a  question !  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  what 
nice  people  are — people  who  have  always  owned 
their  own  house  and  had  a  carriage — the  way  father 


Roland's  Friend  m 

and  mother  used  to.     And  entertained  other  nice 
people  and  did  things  in  style." 

II  Oh."  Lainey's  inflection  made  Ann  stare.  "  I 
must  be  very  different  from  you,  Ann.  I  can't  see 
why  we're  any  nicer  than  anybody  else — Bird,  for 
instance." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,  Lainey,"  Ann  said  confi- 
dentially, "  we're  nicer  than  the  Ralstons,  for  in- 
stance, but  we  aren't  so  nice  as  the  Meridens.  You 
see,  although  the  Ralstons  have  always  owned  their 
house,  they've  never  kept  a  carriage — and  we  have 
— years  ago,  of  course.  But  the  Meridens  not  only 
own  their  house  and  keep  a  carriage,  but  they've 
always  had  a  man-servant.  And  the  children  were 
never  allowed  to  go  to  public  school.  They  always 
had  governesses.  Oh,  how  I  wish  we'd  had  gov- 
ernesses !  And  I  do  think  a  man-servant  is  awfully 
classy.     But  that's  the  difference." 

II I  see.  Perfectly  clear."  Lainey  laughed.  It 
was  a  strange  laugh — dry,  harsh,  short.  "  Do  you 
also  think  we're  nice  people,  Beckie  ?  " 

11  Why,  of  course  I  do,"  Beckie  said  roundly. 
11  Our  ancestors  fought  in  the  Revolution.  There's 
always  been  somebody  or  other  in  the  Legislature. 
And  we've  had  a  general  in  the  family." 

"  Of  course,"  Lainey  remarked  in  a  voice  acidly 
interrogative,  "  you  don't  mention  Uncle  Sam  Talbot 
who  did  time — he  was  a  noble  article.  And  then 
there  was  mother's  cousin,  Sally  Rand — she  was  a 
sweet  thing." 

"  Lainey,"  Ed  remonstrated  with  a  shocked  air, 
"  don't  refer  to  family  affairs  that  you  don't  know 
anything  about." 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  Sally  Rand,"  Lainey  de- 


H2  Roland's  Friend 

clared,  "  I  always  have.  Mary  Tully  told  me  all 
about  her  years  ago.  And  then  you  must  remember 
that  some  of  our  Legislature  relatives  have  been  the 
best  little  grafters  the  State  has  ever  produced.  I'm 
wondering  whether  Bird  Barton  can  afford  to  asso- 
ciate with  us" 

44  I  didn't  know  Uncle  Sam  ever  went  to  the  pen," 
said  Roly  with  great  interest.  "  What  was  he  in 
for?" 

"  Embezzlement,"  Lainey  answered  immediately 
— "  a  peculiarly  unpleasant  case." 

"  I  think  it's  perfectly  awful  to  refer  to  such 
things,"  Ann  asserted.  "  I  believe  in  forgetting 
them." 

u  We  all  believe  in  forgetting  them  when  it's  our 
own  family,"  Lainey  retorted. 

"  Still,  Lainey,"  Beckie  took  it  up,  "  it's  perfectly 
useless  for  you  to  deny  that  we  are  nice  people. 
Our  ancestors  fought  at  Concord  and  Bunker  Hill 
and  some  of  them  signed  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. Why,  we're  eligible  to  join  the  D.  A.  R. 
All  my  life  I've  felt  the  equal  of  everybody.  I  con- 
sider I'm  as  good  as  anybody  in  the  United  States." 

"  Perhaps  Bird  does,"  Lainey  suggested  drily. 

44  Well,"  Ann  said  with  great  conviction,  "  I 
doubt  that  very  much.  Of  course,  she's  a  beauty. 
Arid  she  knows  how  to  dress.  But  somehow  I  don't 
think  she  has  that  air  that  nice  people  have.  You 
can  always  tell  it — it's  as  if  you  didn't  care  a  darn 
for  anybody." 

14  Well,  Ann,"  Lainey  said  thoughtfully,  and  she 
surveyed  her  sister  as  from  a  new  point  of  view,  ,4 1 
don't  think  you  have  that  air — and  I'm  glad  of  it 
And,  of  course,  neither  Beckie  nor  I  have  it — what 


Roland's  Friend  113 

ever  it  is.  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about, 
anyway." 

"  Why,  we've  all  three  got  it,"  Ann  insisted. 
"  Anybody  could  tell  we  were  different  from  shop- 
girls, just  to  look  at  us." 

"  Another  thing."  Ed  flashed  into  the  conversa- 
tion again.  "  Perhaps  there's  nothing  wrong  mor- 
ally with  Miss  Barton.  We'll  drop  that  side  of  the 
discussion.  Apparently  she  has  no  real  ambition  or 
stick-to-itiveness.  And  she's  a  drifter.  Why  does 
she  prefer  to  work  in  a  shop?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  Lainey  said  unexpectedly.  She 
rose  from  the  table  with  the  air  of  one  who  has 
made  a  decision.  "  She  told  me  herself  to-day. 
She  said  that  in  every  other  thing  that  she  got  into 
— on  the  stage,  posing,  manicuring — she  was  both- 
ered to  death  by  men  wanting  to  take  her  out  to 
lunch  or  to  dinner  or  to  the  theater.  Of  course,  with 
her  beauty — I  gathered  often  that  they  were  not 
gentlemen  and  their  attitude  towards  her  was  very 
unpleasant.  She  said  she  wants  to  find  a  job  where 
her  position  does  not  depend  on  her  having  to  be 
cordial  to  the  kind  of  men  that  she  would  naturally 
hate  and  abhor."  Lainey  took  her  fur  coat  from 
the  chair,  pulled  it  on  with  two  vigorous  movements. 
44  She  said  to-day  that  nothing  so  lovely  had  ever 
happened  to  her  in  her  life  as  the  way  we  took  her 
right  into  the,  family  without  any  question.  Because — 
she  said — it  isn't  any  fun  really  working  in  a  depart- 
ment store  when  you  feel  you  could  do  something 
more  intellectual  if  you  could  only  find  out  what  it 
was."  Lainey,  without  looking  in  the  glass,  pulled 
on  her  little  shabby  hat. 

For  a  long  instant  nobody  spoke.    Then,  M  Where 


ii4  Roland's  Friend 

are  you  going?  "  Ed  asked.     His  tone  was  surl 
and  there  was  a  little  panic  in  it. 

The  mirror-like  clearness  of  Lainey's  little,  deep- 
set,  blue-gray  eyes  broke  into  flame.  "  I'm  going 
in  to  Boston  to  join  the  Socialist  Party.  I  don't 
know  anything  about  Socialism,  but  I  want  to  insure 
myself  one  place  where  I  can  be  certain  I  shall  never 
have  to  listen  to  such  talk  as  I've  just  heard."  She 
departed  in  a  dead  silence. 

"  God!  "  Ed  said  as  the  door  slammed.  "  A  So- 
cialist in  the  family.  There's  nothing  left  for  the 
Ollivants  to  do  now  but  murder." 

"  Well,"  said  Lainey  a  month  later,  "  Bird 
joined  the  party  last  night.  She's  been  going  regu- 
larly with  me  to  my  local.  She  says  Socialism  is  the 
only  thing  that  answers  all  the  questions  she's  been 
asking  herself  all  these  years.  We've  decided  to 
read  Karl  Marx  together  and  a  whole  lot  of  things. 
We're  going  to  all  the  meetings  that  we  can  get  in 
this  winter,  and  if  we  can  possibly  manage  it  we're 
going  on  to  New  York  the  first  of  May  and  parade. 
Oh,  I  do  so  enjoy  Bird !  She's  got  such  a  fine  mind. 
And  she  reads  so  much.  And  she's  so  beautiful. 
She  said  last  night  that  she  wasn't  going  to  paint  and 
powder  any  more.  She  said  the  only  reason  she 
ever  did  it  was  because  an  artist  told  her  once  that, 
with  her  type,  she  ought  to  make  her  skin  as  white 
as  possible  and  her  lips  as  red.  Besides,  Bird  says 
everybody  does  it  in  New  York.  You  don't  notice 
it  there.  But  she  feels  awfully  conspicuous  in  Bos- 
ton. I  think  she's  much  lovelier  without  make-up  and 
I  told  her  so.  Anyway,  we've  both  decided  that 
in  the  past  women  have  given  too  much  thought  to 


Roland's  Friend  115 

dress  and  we're  going  to  see  if  we  can't  simplify 
the  problem  for  ourselves.  Bird  and  I  are  going  to 
try  to  design  some  sort  of  working  uniform." 

Ann  arose  to  this.  "  I  suppose  you've  got  to  be 
a  Socialist,  Lainey  Ollivant,  if  you  want  to,  and  go 
about  with  queer  people,  though  how  you  stand  it 
is  more  than  I  can  see.  But  if  you  have  any  idea 
you  are  going  to  wear  queer  clothes  you  might  as 
well  pass  it  up.    I  will  never  submit  to  it." 

"  Oh,  Ann,"  Lainey  exclaimed  in  a  placating  tone, 
"  Bird  and  I  agreed  that  we  wouldn't  actually  do 
anything  without  consulting  you  first." 

"  Well,  I  guess  you'd  better,"  Ann  remarked.  <c  I 
can  see  what  you'd  look  like  if  I  let  you  alone,  now 
that  you've  got  that  equality  bug.  There!  there's 
the  bell.    I  guess  that's  Bird." 

It  was  Bird. 

They  heard  Lainey  and  Bird  start  the  ceaseless 
chatter  which  inevitably  accompanied  their  associa- 
tion. Bird's  hat  and  coat  came  off.  Then,  their 
arms  around  each  other,  the  two  girls  appeared  in 
the  doorway,  sauntered  through  the  living-room 
towards  the  dining-room.  The  firelight  poured  over 
Lainey's  filmy  halo,  struck  through  the  bridge  of 
her  little  nose;  it  found  the  stars  in  Bird's  gray 
eyes,  the  pearls  in  her  deep-set  smile.  They  stopped 
halfway;  Bird's  look  arrested  itself  on  the  portrait 
of  old  General  Milliken. 

11  Ah,"  she  said  suddenly  in  a  swelling  voice,  "  I 
have  it!  Socialism  has  translated  it  to  me.  It's 
not  the  expression  of  character,  nor  of  a  great 
mental  force.  That  look  in  his  face  was  in  my 
uncle's  face — Admiral  Murdock.  My  uncle's  por- 
trait hung  in  our  living-room — until  the  bad  times 


n6  Roland's  Friend 

came  and  all  our  things  were  sold.  I  used  to  think 
that  he  was  probably  the  greatest  man  that  ever 
lived.  But  I  see  now  that  it  was  not  the  look  of  a 
great  man.     It's  pride-in-power — it's  militarism." 

"  You're  right,  Bird,"  Lainey  agreed  in  a  tone 
equally  thrilled.  "  It's  the  expression  of  oppression 
— the  look  of  paid  dominance."  The  two  girls 
gazed  for  a  disillusioned  second  on  General  Milli- 
ken's  beefy,  watery-eyed,  iron-jawed  face. 

11  Admiral  Murdock,"  asked  Ed,  "  the  commander 
of  the  Oklahoma — the  one  who  said " 

"  Yes,"  Bird  answered  in  a  resigned  tone.  "  The 
same!  Only  he  didn't  say  it.  A  clever  reporter 
said  it  for  him." 

11  Oh,  Bird !  "  Lainey  exclaimed.  "  That  reminds 
me.  I  bought  two  volumes  of  Karl  Marx  to-day. 
Come  up  to  my  room.    I  want  to  show  them  to  you." 

Still  arm  and  arm,  still  chattering,  they  drifted 
up  the  stairs. 

11  Admiral  Murdock,"  Ed  repeated  in  a  surprised 
tone.  "  Why,  they're  awful  swells.  I've  heard  Mrs. 
MacVeagh  tell  about  them.  Bird  must  belong  to 
a  very  good  old  family.  I  suppose  he  was  her 
mother's  brother." 

"  Well,"  Ann  said,  "  it's  no  surprise  to  me.  You 
can  always  tell  nice  people  when  you  see  them. 
They  always  have  an  air.  I  knew  from  the  start 
that  there  was  something  different  about  Bird.  She 
has  what  I  call  a  really  swell  manner,  sort  of  indif- 
ferent to  people." 

11  Well,  for  Heaven's  sake  don't  let  Lainey  hear 
you  say  that,"  Ed  remarked  sardonically,  "  or  she'll 
go  over  to-night  and  join  the  anarchists." 


CHAPTER  VI 
BECKIE'S  JOB 

*  T  CALCULATE  I've  earned  a  rest,"  Dr.  Pier- 

X  son  was  saying.  "  I  was  seventy-five  my  last 
birthday — and  Henry  wants  that  I  should  join  him 
in  Los  Angeles.  I'd  like  to  see  something  of 
the  world  before  I  die.  These  long  cold  winters  do 
take  it  out  of  me  so  nowadays  and  Henry  writes 
about  nothing  but  sunshine  and  roses." 

Dr.  Pierson  had  to  scream  to  make  himself  heard; 
for  the  canaries  were  shrilling  so  loud  that  their 
breast  feathers  vibrated.  The  squirrel  was  revolv- 
ing with  a  metallic  clatter  on  his  tiny  treadmill;  his 
body  had,  indeed,  lengthened  to  a  gray  streak  in 
which  two  points  of  light,  his  little  black  shoe-button 
eyes,  gleamed. 

"You're  quite  right, Dr.  Pierson," Beckie  screamed 
in  answer.  "  And  I'm  glad  for  you — just  as  glad 
as  I  can  be.  California  seems  such  a  story-book 
place.  I  shall  love  to  think  of  you  out  there  just 
surrounded  by  geraniums  and  calla  lilies  and  palms 
and  all  those  old  Missions — and  everything." 

Beckie  was  standing  before  the  mirror  in  Dr. 
Pierson's  office.  Mechanically  she  stood  there  and 
mechanically  she  looked  into  it.  She  tugged  her  hat 
— in  shape  and  color  it  could  not  possibly  have  been 
more  unbecoming — down  over  her  ears.  She  did 
not  see  the  harsh  line  that  the  crown  made,  coalescing 

117 


ii8  Beckie's  Job 

perfectly  with  the  seam  of  forehead  and  hair;  for 
Beckie  never  saw  herself  when  she  looked  into  the 
glass.  And  now,  in  addition,  a  blurr  dimmed  the 
brightness  of  her  gaze;  she  was  desperately  afraid 
that  that  blurr  might  grow,  might  run  down  her 
cheek. 

"  YouVe  been  a  good  faithful  girl,  Beckie, "  Dr. 
Pierson  went  on  in  his  fatherly  tones,  "  and  so  quick 
and  smart.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done 
without  you.  YouVe  always  taken  such  an  interest 
in  my  work  and  it's  been  such  a  help — your  remem- 
bering everybody's  telephone  number  the  way  you 
do."  His  long  withered  fingers  fumbled  for  a  mo- 
ment in  the  pocket  of  his  formal  black  waistcoat. 
14 1  want  that  you  should  accept  this  as  a  sort  of 
little  present  from  me ;  for  I  haven't  really  given  you 
any  chance  to  look  around." 

"This"  was  three  ten-dollar  gold  pieces,  only 
one  of  which  comprised  her  week's  pay.  To 
Beckie's  moist  vision,  they  shone  from  little  nests  of 
rainbow  ruffles;  she  accepted  the  gift  with  the  sim- 
plicity with  which  she  would  have  offered  it.  "  Oh, 
thank  you  ever  so  much,  Dr.  Pierson.  It's  awfully 
good  of  you.     I  do  appreciate  it." 

"  And  if  there's  ever  anything  I  can  do,"  Dr. 
Pierson  concluded,  "  you  write  to  me  at  once  at 
Henry's  address — 2354  Acacia  Avenue.  Now  I 
must  be  getting  over  to  see  Cousin  Martha." 

Beckie  waited  until  the  outer  door  shut.  She 
watched  the  thin,  tall,  old  figure  pass  the  window. 
It  was  so  frail  that  it  looked  like  an  empty  suit  of 
clothes  with  a  head  at  the  top.  And  the  face  was 
like  a  glassblower's  product;  the  skin  had  the  wa: 
transparency,  the  eyes  the  soft  luminousness  of  age. 


Beckie's  Job  119 

Only  his  teeth,  still  professionally  white  and  regu- 
lar, made  him  human.  Through  her  sense  of  a 
material  loss,  a  sharp  pang  suddenly  tore  Beckie. 
Would  he  live  to  get  to  Los  Angeles?  she  wondered. 

Then  she  put  on  her  new  spring  coat — the  shape- 
less, hueless  garment,  so  scorned  of  Ann.  Now  the 
blurr  in  her  eyes  had  precipitated  and  crystallized. 
Her  eyes  swam  as  she  gazed  about  the  little  office. 
How  often  had  she  dusted  and  arranged  the  back- 
number  magazines,  how  often  changed  the  water  in 
the  aquarium,  refoddered  the  birds,  scrubbed  the 
squirrel  cage,  pruned  the  geraniums  and  trained  the 
ivy  which,  starting  at  the  mantel,  had  crept  halfway 
round  the  room !  Dr.  Pierson,  who  subsisted  spirit- 
ually on  a  gentle  philosophy  of  home  manufacture, 
believed  that  these  growing  organisms  in  some  mys- 
terious way  helped  his  patients  to  bear  their  agonies. 
The  little  cabinet  of  dental  instruments  and  supplies 
had  been  Beckie's  particular  pride;  it  sparkled  with 
a  neatness  and  a  system  that  was  all  her  own.  She 
was  even  indulgent  of  the  shabby,  wine-velvet  chair 
from  which  had  emerged  so  many  groans  of  pain  or 
sighs  of  relief.  As  for  the  old  dentist  himself — 
part  of  Beckie's  pride  in  her  work  was  that  he  leaned 
so  hard  on  her. 

She  did  not  tell  the  family  about  the  change  in  her 
fortunes  that  night;  for  they  were  particularly  gay. 
Ann  was  sending  out  cards  for  the  modest  tea  which 
she  and  Lainey  had  decided  to  give  the  following 
Saturday;  she  brimmed  and  bristled  with  excitement. 

"Beckie,  what's  Jane  Forester's  address?  Oh 
yes,  of  course,  59  Linden  Place " — "  Do  you 
think  two  kinds  of  sandwiches  will  be  enough, 
Lainey?  " — "  Ed,  what  does  Mrs.  MacVeagh  serve 


120  Beckie's  Job 

at  her  teas?" — "  Oh,  of  course,  you  men  never 
notice  anything  important." — ■  What's  Isabelle 
Fay's  address,  Beck?" — M  Oh,  of  course,  98  Lee. 
Aren't  you  a  wonder  about  remembering  numbers!  " 
— "  I  wish  I  could  make  up  my  mind  about  the  cake, 
Lainey.  I  don't  want  it  frosted  or  gooey.  If 
there's  anything  I  hate  it's  to  handle  mushy  stuff 
when  I've  got  gloves  on." — "What's  Joe  Jordan's 
address,  Beckie?  " — u  I  know  what  I'm  going  to  do, 
Lainey.  I'm  going  to  ask  Aunt  Lottie  if  she'll  lend 
us  her  ferns.  They're  awfully  thick  now  and  they'll 
look  pretty  swell  massed  in  the  bay-window." — "  Oh, 
Beck,  what  is  Elizabeth  John's  address?  This  is 
the  last  I'll  ask.  It's  such  a  bore  looking  it  up  in 
the  address-book." — "That's  right.  Thanks.  You 
certainly  are  a  wizard." 

"  I'll  tell  them  to-morrow  at  breakfast,"  Beckie 
said  to  herself.  But  when  to-morrow  came,  some 
unanalyzable  instinct  kept  her  silent.  She  left  the 
house,  however,  at  the  usual  hour  and  she  carried 
with  her  the  morning  paper.  Perhaps  she  carried 
with  her  also  the  echo  of  Ann's  last  words;  for 
breakfast  closed  in  a  spirited  debate  between  them 

"  I  do  wish,  Beckie,"  Ann  said,  "  that  you'd 
rid  of  that  hat.     When  I  think  that  you  paid 
dollars  for  it,  I  could  bite  the  banisters!     Do  y( 
want  to  know  what  it  looks  like?  "     Beckie  did 
want  to  know  but  Ann  told  her.     "  It  looks  like 
bean-pot  trimmed  with  an  egg-beater.     And  as  fc 
that  coat  and  dress — well,  I  haven't  the  words  1  > 
describe  them." 

"  Well,  Ann,"  Beckie  answered  in  her  usual  bri;  c 
way,  "  it  doesn't  make  any  difference  what  a  home  y 
girl  wears.     She's  bound  to  look  like  the  dicker  ;, 


Beckie's  Job  121 

no  matter  what  she  puts  on.  If  there's  anything 
makes  me  tired,  it's  to  see  a  woman  with  a  face  like 
a  meat-ax  all  dolled  up.  What  do  you  want  me  to 
wear — a  poke-bonnet  trimmed  with  pink  roses  and  a 
chin-strap?  " 

"  No,  Beckie,"  Ann  said  with  her  succinct  sar- 
casm, "  you're  not  old  enough  yet  to  try  to  look  as 
young  as  that.  Only  old  hens  of  about  fifty  go 
in  for  poke-bonnets  and  chin-straps.  And  you're  all 
wrong  about  it's  not  making  any  difference  what  a 
homely  girl  wears.  It  doesn't  make  any  difference 
what  a  pretty  girl  wears." 

"  I  suppose  half  what  you  say  is  right,"  Beckie 
admitted,  surveying  appreciatively  her  sister's 
golden-brown  beauty.  "  You  could  wear  a  meal-sack 
for  a  dress  and  a  waste-basket  for  a  hat  and  all  any- 
body'd  say  would  be  how  cute  you  looked." 

11  And,"  Ann  went  on,  ignoring  this  placating  trib- 
ute, "  you  make  a  great  mistake  in  taking  it  for 
granted  that  you're  homely.  You're  not  a  beauty, 
of  course,  but  there's  something  about  you " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know,"  Beckie  thrust  in  scornfully, 
11  4  while  not  exactly  pretty,  the  bride  has  an  ex- 
pression of  great  intelligence  and  good  nature '  " 

"  What  I  mean  is,"  Ann  went  on  without  pause, 
14  is  that  you  grow  better-looking  the  longer  people 
know  you.  You're  the  kind  of  person  that  every- 
thing depends  on  what  they  wear.  And  you  always 
look  like  the  old  scratch.  You  could  be  so  much 
more  attractive  if  you  only  wore  the  right  colors 
and  the  right  lines.  That  terrible  brown  that  you've 
got  on  now — it's  so  hard  and  so  hot  at  the  same  time 
— it's  the  only  brown  you  can't  wear.  And,  of 
course,  being  short-waisted,  you  had  it  made  with 


122  Beckie's  Job 

a  belt  a  yard  wide.  If  you'd  only  let  me  design 
your  things.  You  see  what  Bird  Barton  and  I  have 
done  for  Lainey.  She  looks  like  a  Poiret  manikin 
nowadays.  Then,  the  way  you  do  your  hair  would 
make  Billy  Burke  look  a  sight — strained  back  from 
your  forehead  into  that  queer  knob  on  the  top  of 
your  head.  But  the  first  thing  you've  got  to  get  out 
of  your  head  is  the  idea  that  you're  so  homely." 

"I  suppose  I  could  forget  it,"  Beckie  admitted 
without  rancor,  "  if  I  could  smash  all  the  mirrors  in 
the  world." 

Beckie  Ollivant  was  certainly  not  a  pretty  girl, 
but  she  was  certainly  not  a  homely  one.  She  was 
a  marked  physical  contrast  to  Ann  who  had  the  lush 
golden-brown  beauty  of  a  girl-odalisk  plus  a  dash 
of  American  piquancy,  or  of  Lainey  who,  though 
vaguely  colored,  had  the  nervous  chiseling  of  a 
Tanagra  figurine.  Beckie  was  almost  an  Indian 
type.  Her  features  were  so  pronounced  in  their  ir- 
regularity that  the  first  effect  of  her  appearance  was 
of  strength.  Later,  you  discovered  that  hers  was  a 
comely  ugliness,  latest  that  it  developed  a  kind  of 
splendor.  Her  eyes,  quite  as  deep-set  as  Lainey's 
and  much  more  brilliant  than  Ann's,  sparkled  with 
a  temperamental  optimism.  Her  skin,  a  clean 
brown  dappled  with  freckles,  glowed  with  health. 
Her  hair,  a  real  mahogany  crisped  with  copper, 
would  have  broken  into  waves  if  her  relentless  hair- 
dressing  had  permitted  it.  Her  figure  was  more 
strong  than  shapely,  but  in  action  it  had  a  certain 
compelling  vigor;  she  moved  with  the  quickness,  not 
of  a  deer  but  an  elk. 

Beckie's  face  grew  grave,  as  she  ran  over  th< 
want  advertisements,  sitting  on  a  bench  that  ovei 


Beckie's  Job  123 

looked  the  Frog  Pond  on  the  Common.  But  she  fell 
to  work  at  once,  marking  promising-looking  ads  in 
pencil  and  cutting  them  out  with  the  little  manicure- 
scissors  which  she  carried  in  her  bag. 

11  Say,  Matt,  who's  the  new  skirt  in  your  office?  " 
Ed  demanded  with  interest  that  night. 

"  Which  one?  "  Matt  asked  languidly. 

"  The  strawberry  blonde  over  in  the  corner," 
Ed  answered.  "  Pippin !  I  didn't  notice  her  until 
I  came  out." 

u  Oh,  her  name's  Riley — Theresa  Riley — she's 
been  there  a  week,"  Matt  said.  u  Flivver  tool 
The  old  man  engaged  her.  The  old  man's  a  mark 
for  any  pretty  girl.  And  I  must  say  he's  never  made 
a  mistake  yet — they're  all  lookers.  But  they're  go- 
ing and  coming  all  the  time.  More  than  half  of 
them  haven't  got  nut  enough  to  fill  the  eye  of  a 
needle,  but  he  won't  have  a  homely  girl  round.  No 
use  for  anything  but  a  peach  applying  for  a  job  in 
our  joint." 

M  It's  my  experience  that  it  isn't  much  use  for  a 
homely  girl  to  apply  anywhere,"  Ed  said  cynically. 
"  There's  nothing  for  a  homely  girl  to  do,  anyway, 
but  make  way  with  herself — far  as  I  can  see.  Well, 
I'm  for  old  Johnson's  system  myself.  If  I  was 
running  a  business,  I'd  have  lookers.  Nothing 
but!  Oh,  say,  Beck,  what's  Cliff  Conroy's  tele- 
phone number?     I  want  to  call  him  up." 

"  Lord,  what  would  we  do  without  Beckie  to  re- 
member all  the  numbers  of  things  for  us?"  Lainey 
said.  "  That  reminds  me.  When  does  Bessie 
Week's  birthday  come,  Beck?  It's  somewhere  along 
here,  I  know,  and  I  want  to  send  her  a  card." 


124  Beckie's  Job 

Three  weeks  went  by.  That  day  was  the  first 
of  many  days  equally  fatiguing  and  disheartening. 
The  impulse  not  to  tell  her  bad  news  hardened  to  a 
resolution.  Beckie  bore  her  burden  and  her  anxiety 
alone.  The  only  change  in  her  routine  from  the 
family  point  of  view  was  that,  on  the  pretext  that 
she  was  tired  of  restaurant  food,  she  took  a  lunch. 
She  left  the  house  every  morning  at  halfpast  eight; 
she  returned  every  night  at  halfpast  five.  She 
went  in  good  weather  immediately  to  her  favorite 
seat  on  the  Common  overlooking  the  Frog  Pond  and 
in  bad  weather  she  stayed  in  the  Subway  until  nine. 
There  she  studied  the  advertisements,  cut  out  those 
that  seemed  promising.  At  nine  she  went  to  the 
rest-room  of  one  of  the  department  stores  and  re- 
plied by  letter  to  those  ads  which  demanded  cor- 
respondence. The  rest  of  her  collection  of  ads  she 
answered  in  person. 

Beckie  had  had  no  previous  experience  job-hunt- 
ing. Her  position  with  Dr.  Pierson  had  been  her 
first;  it  had  come  to  her  through  a  friend.  There 
were  one  or  two  traps  of  the  advertising  game  into 
which  she  immediately  fell.  The  work  at  one  place 
was  delightfully  easy — merely  to  fold  circulars. 
Here  her  strength  and  quickness  stood  her  in  good 
stead;  it  promised  a  fair  salary.  The  first  day 
she  folded  twice  as  many  circulars  as  the  speed 
champion  of  the  establishment.  But  when  she  dis- 
covered that  she  was  expected  to  contribute  two 
weeks  of  work  before  she  drew  any  pay,  she  balked. 
She  did  not  return  the  next  morning.  In  another 
place  the  work  was  almost  equally  simple  and 
mechanical — coloring  photographs.  But  when  she 
learned  that  she  must  first  buy  the  tools  of  the  tra( 


trade 


Beckie's  Job  125 

at  the  price  of  three  weeks'  salary,  she  balked  again. 
She  did  not  return  that  afternoon.  She  spent  three 
days  learning  to  set  type  in  a  dimly-lighted,  foully- 
dirty  establishment,  presided  over  by  a  proprietor 
from  whose  every  look  and  word  she  shrank.  The 
fourth  day,  appearing  on  the  scene  too  drunk  to 
work,  he  swore  scurrilously  at  her.  Beckie  left  at 
once. 

After  a  while,  her  native  shrewdness  taught  her 
what  advertisements  to  answer  and  what  to  ignore. 
Unconsciously,  she  began  to  sift  and  classify  them. 
But  although  she  applied  at  "  the  above  address  " 
wherever  it  seemed  promising,  her  application  was 
invariably  unsuccessful.  There  were  always"plenty 
of  pretty  girls  in  the  group  of  applicants ;  girls  who, 
because  of  their  beauty,  wore  their  clothes  with  grace 
and  their  manners  with  authority.  Beckie  used  to 
study  them  furtively  but  closely;  there  was  no  envy 
in  her  look,  only  a  wistful  appreciativeness. 

After  two  weeks,  Beckie  instituted  a  system  of 
her  own.  She  ransacked  the  neighborhood  into 
which  her  first  application  took  her,  shop  after  shop, 
office  after  office,  floor  after  floor,  just  as  they  hap- 
pened to  come.  This  process  brought  her  all  kinds 
of  experiences.  She  was  refused  politely,  refused 
brutally,  refused  with  excuses  or  without  them, 
ignored  utterly.  Men  received  her  with  their  hats 
on,  their  coats  off,  their  cigars  in  their  mouth,  their 
feet  on  the  desk.  Some  of  them  did  not  look  up  at  her 
when  they  talked  to  her;  others  looked  too  hard. 
One  gentleman,  exercising  what  promised  to  be 
genuine  courtesy  of  his  sort,  delayed  speaking  while 
he  spat  into  a  cuspidor.  But  when  he  did  speak  it 
was  only  to  inform  her  that  she  was  too  damned 


126  Beckie's  Job 

homely  for  his  business.  After  this  last  encounter, 
Beckie  retreated  to  the  Common  and  sat  looking 
dully  over  the  Frog  Pond  until  it  was  time  to  go 
home. 

But  although  Beckie's  experiences  continued  to 
pile  up  an  increasing  load  of  discouragement,  always 
in  the  morning,  she  left  the  house  with  the  quick, 
strong  step  and  the  straight,  bright  glance  of 
her  unconquerable  optimism.  And  if  occasionally 
Lainey  said  at  dinner,  "  Beckie  dear,  it  does  seem 
to  me  that  you  look  awfully  tired  when  you  get 
home  nights.  Are  you  working  especially  hard?" 
Ann  was  quite  as  likely  to  cap  it  the  next  morning 
with,  "  Beckie,  I  never  saw  anything  like  how  cheer- 
fully you  go  to  that  old  office.  I  can't  imagine  any- 
thing that  I'd  hate  more.  Listening  to  people  yowl- 
ing all  the  time.  And  as  for  Dr.  Pierson — oh,  of 
course,  I  realize  he's  a  fine  man  and  all  that,  but 
he  looks  so  like  a  dentist.  He  has  what  I  call 
dental  smile.  And  just  the  fact  that  he  wears 
Prince  Albert — it  certainly  must  be  ten  years  since 
people  have  been  wearing  Prince  Alberts.  And  his 
collars,  turned  down  with  those  long  points  and  that 
funny  old.  narrow,  black  tie  with  the  pointed  ends 
Then,  I  hate  goldfish  and  squirrels,  and,  oh,  ho^ 
those  canaries  would  get  on  my  nerves  screeching 
so!" 

And  even  the  fox-minded  Ann  never  realized  thai 
Beckie  no  longer  offered  any  ripost  to  these  thrusts. 

Beckie  was  appreciating  now  some  of  the  incoi 
veniences  of  the  double  life.  She  had  to  avoid  the 
vicinity  of  Tremont  and  Washington  Streets  during 
the  lunch-hours  for  fear  of  running  into  Ed  01 
Matt.     And  she  was  always  turning  abruptly  intc 


Beckie's  Job  127 

side-streets  to  avoid  friends  whom  she  saw  bearing 
down  upon  her.  Saturday  was  always  a  nerve-rack- 
ing day;  for  the  school-teacher  Lainey  spent  much  of 
her  holiday  in  town  shopping  with  Ann.  Beckie's 
Sundays  had  become  days  in  which  she  studied  the 
Sunday  papers  with  a  desperate  but  secret  avidity. 

11  Isn't  there  something  I  can  do?  Beckie  asked 
herself  again  and  again  in  those  early  hours  of  the 
night  when  her  tired  memory  marshaled  and  re- 
viewed the  day's  experiences.  "  Let  alone  having 
an  art  or  a  profession  or  a  business,  if  I  only  had  a 
trade  like  a  boy!  If  there  was  only  something  I 
could  tell  them  I  could  do!  " 

Regularly  every  Saturday  evening,  she  turned 
over  to  Ann  the  five  dollars,  half  her  salary,  which 
was  her  share  of  the  family  expenses.  Beckie  never 
saved  money;  car-fares  and  the  occasional  hot 
chocolate,  to  which  she  resorted  as  a  means  of  cheer, 
had  eaten  into  her  reserve  fund.  Of  Dr.  Pierson's 
thirty  dollars,  she  had  left  a  little  over  ten.  When 
that  was  gone — Not  that  Beckie's  situation  was  des- 
perate, although  to  a  girl  of  her  sturdy  independence 
it  had  its  desperate  side.  They  lived — the  six  orphan 
Ollivants — on  the  cooperative  system.  Ed,  the  old- 
est, gave,  as  fitted  his  larger  salary,  the  biggest 
weekly  sum  to  Ann,  the  family  housekeeper  and 
treasurer.  Matt,  Lainey,  and  Beckie  paid  equal 
amounts,  but  Beckie  looked  after  sixteen-year-old 
Roland,  who  was  still  in  High  School,  and  Lainey 
took  care  of  eighteen-year-old  Ann,  who  ran  the 
house.  They  were  all  pleasure-loving  and  extrava- 
gant; Ed  often  borrowed  from  Beckie  and  Matt 
from  Lainey.  Somebody  was  always  in  debt  to 
somebody  else.     Of  course,  Beckie  would  always 


128  Beckie's  Job 

have  a  home — a  roof  over  her  head  and  her  three 
meals  a  day — but  she  did  not  want  to  be  an  object 
of  chanty  in  it. 

And  so  in  spite  of  herself — and  Beckie's  soul  was 
compact  of  courage  and  steadfastness — the  grind  of 
continual  refusal  was  beginning  to  corrode.  Often 
now  she  had  to  walk  up  and  down  the  sidewalk 
before  she  could  pump  up  the  courage  to  go  into 
the  office  and  emit  her  stereotyped  "  I've  come  here 
to  apply  for  work,"  to  meet  that  stereotyped  "  What 
can  you  do?  "  And  now  some  of  the  sturdiness  had 
gone  out  of  her  bearing.  She  drooped  a  little, 
sometimes  from  fatigue,  sometimes  from  hunger, 
but  more  often  from  disheartenment.  She  looked 
at  the  uninterested  and  impassive  gentleman  to 
whom  she  put  her  plea  with  altogether  too  much 
entreaty  in  her  deep  eyes — the  first  qualification  for 
getting  a  job  being,  as  everybody  knows,  not  to 
seem  to  need  it.  And  though  she  took  as  much 
care  of  her  personal  appearance  as  formerly,  three 
weeks  of  tramping  in  all  kinds  of  weather  had  not 
improved  her  clothes.  The  bean-pot  hat  had  gone 
the  roughened  way  of  all  cheap  velvet;  the  baggy 
coat  had  proved  to  be  of  a  cloth  that  faded  and 
pulled.  But  her  face  always  shone  from  the  soap 
with  which  she  polished  it,  her  shoes  were  always 
freshly  shined,  her  shabby  gloves  carefully  mended. 

One  Saturday,  coming  in  town  from  Roxbury,  a 
shred  of  conversation  caught  her  ear. 

"And  so  I  just  told  him  that  he  could  have  his 
old  job.  I  wasn't  gonna  stand  for  anything  like 
that.     I  don't  have  to." 

"Well,  what  do  you  know  about  that!  "  anoth< 


Beckie's  Job  129 

voice  commented  admiringly,  M  what  did  he  say, 
May?  " 

Beckie  looked  round.  Two  girls  were  talking: 
one  little  dark,  coarsely  plain;  the  other — out  of 
the  lethargy  of  her  despair,  Beckie  stared  admir- 
ingly. May  was  a  slim,  pale-gold  blonde,  all 
pearly  colorings,  all  curving  contours.  Her  hair 
wound  about  her  head  like  a  helmet  of  thin  metal, 
faintly  polished.  Under  it  came  a  three-cornered 
expanse  of  brow;  eyes  deeply  blue,  softly  shadowed, 
blackly  fringed;  a  profile  frail  as  a  flower;  tiny  fea- 
tures, tiny  teeth,  tiny  dimples;  lips  curved,  scarlet, 
voluptuous. 

11  Oh,  he  spilled  a  lot  of  talk!  He  said  I  didn't 
have  to  take  it  that  way — that  he  didn't  mean 
to  be  gay.  But  I  says  to  him,  I  says,  *  I  don't 
care  what  you  meant,'  I  says,  *  you've  gotta  find 
another  fall-guy  for  this  job.'  " 

11  Well,  what  do  you  know "  her  friend  put 

in  admiringly.  u  Still,  May,  don't  you  think  you 
was  foolish?  It  isn't  so  easy  getting  a  job  these 
days."  * 

"  I  never  have  any  trouble,"  May  replied,  with 
the  languor  of  conscious  power.  She  removed 
from  her  hand-bag  a  little  mirror  and  a  tiny  powder- 
puff;  with  the  latter  she  filmed  her  face  with  an 
impalpable  gauze.  "  I  never  am  out  of  work  more 
than  two  days.  I  can  always  get  a  job  somewhere. 
Besides,  you  know  I  can  go  on  the  stage  any  time. 
Morris  Freidenstein  says  he  can  get  me  a  place  in 
the  chorus.  I've  only  gotta  say  the  word.  My 
mother  don't  want  me  to  go  on  the  stage,  though — 
and  I  don't  wanna — and  I  won't  unless  I  get  so  sick 
of  waiting  on  customers  that  I  can't  stand  it  any 


130  Beckie's  Job 

more.  My  feet  ache  me  something  fierce  when  I  get 
home  nights.  But  I'm  not  trying  for  anything  to- 
day; I'm  going  to  lay  off  for  a  while.     Sometimes 

I  wish  I  didn't  get  work  so  easy." 

Beckie  left  the  car,  retreated  to  her  familiar 
roost  on  the  Common.  She  stayed  there  all  the 
afternoon.  "  I  guess  I'm  about  at  the  end  of  my 
rope,"  she  said  once.  And  she  said  it  aloud. 
Nobody  heard  her,  however.  A  squirrel  studied 
her  for  a  disapproving  instant  before  he  turned  his 
plumed  tail  on  her  and  dove  into  oblivion. 

The  keynote  of  that  conversation  was  struck 
again  in  her  own  home  Sunday  night. 

"  Oh  say,  Bird,"  Ann  asked,  "  I've  always  meant 
to  ask  you  how  did  you  come  to  leave  Morgan 
Rector's  to  get  that  swell  job  you're  holding  down." 

41  It  came  about  in  the  queerest  way,"  Bird  an- 
swered. "  A  man  named  Lewis  used  to  come  in 
to  Morgan  Rector's  occasionally,  and  one  day  we 
got  to  talking  about  the  books.  He  seemed  very 
much  surprised — at  least  he  said  he  was — that  I'd 
read  so  much.  And  one  day  he  told  me  that  if  I'< 
like  a  position  with  the  book  firm,  Robertsoi 
Reynolds,  he  thought  he  could  get  me  one.  Oi 
course  I  was  delighted,  said  so,  and  in  a  week 
got  a  note  from  him  telling  me  they  would  like  t< 
see  me." 

"Just  handed  you  on  a  gold  platter,"  Ann  sai< 

II  Well,  that's  the  advantage  of  looking  like  a  gi] 
on  a  magazine  cover." 

"Well,  you  needn't  talk,"  Lainey  said,  "even 
body's  always  offering  you  a  job.  It  began,  Bin 
when  we  were  children,  when  a  man  stopped  us  01 
the  street  to  ask  Ann  if  she'd  like  to  take  the  litth 


Beckie's  Job  131 

boy's  part  in  a  revival  of  *  Rosedale.'  And  I  don't 
wonder!  Oh,  Bird,  Ann  was  such  a  wonderful- 
looking  little  girl — with  her  thick  long  mop  of  goldy- 
brown  curls,  her  great,  big  goldy-brown  eyes  and 
cheeks  like  Baldwin  apples.  Well,  it's  kept  up  ever 
since.  Before  old  Mr.  Snell  got  that  new  secretary 
he  asked  her  if  she  didn't  want  the  job.  Of 
course,  Ann  is  awfully  able  and  efficient,  just  as  you 
are,  Bird,  but  I'm  sure  neither  of  you  would  get  work 
so  easy  if  it  weren't  for  your  looks." 

"Oh  slush!"  Bird  said. 

"  Oh  pickles !  "  Ann  said. 

Beckie  said  nothing. 

"  Oh  say,  Beck,"  Bird  asked  lazily,  "  what's  Allie 
Dean's  street  number?  I've  got  to  write  her  a  letter 
to-night." 

But  early  Monday  morning  she  was  back  again  in- 
vading the  business  section  with  a  kind  of  desperate 
fury.  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  she  opened 
the  door  of  the  Renaissance  Art  Company — opened 
the  door  and  stood  for  an  amazed  and  an  abashed 
second  on  the  threshold. 

It  was  a  big  vague  room  into  which  Beckie  looked 
— and  it  was  filled  with  shadows.  Heavy  curtains  of 
a  dull  reseda-green  velvet,  hanging  in  stately  folds, 
shrouded  the  windows.  Gray  monk's  cloth,  divided 
into  squares  by  a  dull  wood,  covered  the  walls. 
Here  and  there  a  red  print  framed  in  an  old  green- 
gold,  or  a  bust  carved  and  colored  as  from  old 
wood,  gleamed  from  these  squares.  The  furniture 
emitted  a  muted  copper  glow.  Slim  vases  of  bubbly 
and  iridescent  glass,  or  broad  bowls  of  an  opaque 
and  lusterless  porcelain,  held  foliage  of  a  subdued 


132  Beckie's  Job 

bronze.  There  were  three  presiding  genii  in  the 
place.  One  was  a  coppery,  heroic-size  classic 
blonde  who  exactly  matched  the  furniture.  A  sec- 
ond was  a  lithe,  smoky-olive  pre-Raphaelite  bru- 
nette who  exactly  matched  the  hangings.  The  third 
was  a  short  piquant  post-impressionist  nondescript 
who  contrasted  with  everything.  The  art  atmos- 
phere was  so  thick  and  their  loose  draperies  so  thin 
that  when  they  moved  they  seemed  to  float.  And 
when  they  came  to  rest,  it  was  in  a  sinuous,  curved 
attitude  which  displayed,  by  means  of  a  flexed  knee, 
a  heelless  leather  shoe  or,  by  a  hand  lifted  to  the 
breast,  a  curveless  Burne-Jones  wrist. 

Three  pairs  of  frigid  eyes  turned  to  survey  the 
short,  squat  figure  suspended  in  the  midst  of  the 
meal-sack  coat  in  the  doorway.  Three  pairs  of  deli- 
cate eyebrows  flew  to  their  highest  altitude. 

"  Will  you  tell  me,  please,"  Beckie  asked  timidly, 
"  where  I  go  to  apply  for  a  place  here?  " 

The  smoky-olive  brunette  answered.  "Well,  I 
don't  know  as  they  want  any  girl  here.  I  haven't 
heard  anything  about  it.  There's  the  office,  though." 
An  exquisite  pre-Raphaelite  gesture  indicated  a 
flight  of  stairs  leading  to  a  mezzanine  balcony. 

Beckie  timidly  attacked  the  stairs.     She  walked 
around  three  sides  of  the  balcony  until  she  came  to 
an  office,  glassed-in  part  way,  to  the  ceiling,  which 
bore  the  name  Willard  Pray.    She  knocked  on  the 
door.    There  was  no  answer.    She  turned  the  knob ; 
the  door  opened ;  she  went  in.    Inside  two  men  wer< 
talking.     One,  his  back  towards  her,  Beckie  coul< 
not  see.     The  other  was  sitting  in  a  swivel-chan 
before  a  business-like-looking  roll-top  desk,  the  vul- 
garly-utilitarian appurtenances  of  which  contrastet 


Beckie's  Job  133 

strikingly  with  the  exquisite  aestheticism  below.  He 
first  blotted  out  the  roar  of  the  street  by  shutting  the 
window,  then  turned  on  Beckie  a  thunderous  brow 
and  a  sudden  barked,  "  Well,  what  do  you  want?  " 

"  I've  come  to  apply  for  a  position  here,"  Beckie 
said. 

The  thunderous  aspect  of  his  face,  instead  of  in- 
creasing, melted  a  little.  Beckie's  heart  gave  a  leap. 
"  What  can  you  do?  "  he  demanded. 

11  Anything,"  Beckie  lied  desperately. 

"What,  for  instance?"  the  man  demanded. 

11  Everything,"  Beckie  lied  recklessly. 

The  man  bellowed.  "  Stenographer,  typewriter, 
cashier,  bookkeeper — quick!    What  can  you  do?  " 

"Nothing!"  Beckie  told  the  truth  despairingly. 

The  man  surveyed  her  for  a  disgusted  instant. 
And  Beckie  surveyed  him  for  an  entreating  one. 
He  was  short,  stocky,  strong-looking,  with  an  ir- 
regular pugnacious  face,  healthily  colored.  His  eye- 
lashes were  surprisingly  long  and  curly  and  his 
square  chin  was  divided  by  a  clean  cleft.  "  We 
don't  need  any  help,"  he  snapped.  He  jerked  about 
in  his  chair  in  a  manner  that  unmistakably  closed 
the  interview. 

Beckie  shut  the  door  quietly.  She  made  auto- 
matically in  the  direction  of  the  stairway.  But  for 
the  first  time  her  courage  threatened  to  break. 
She  knew  that  she  must  not  cry;  she  held  her  jaw 
tight  with  one  hand,  the  other  hung  clenched  at  her 
side.  It  seemed  a  long  time  before  she  got  to  the 
stairs.  Finally  she  stopped  and  peered  about.  She 
had  walked  past  the  stairway,  made  the  square  of 
the  balcony,  and  came  to  the  office  again.  Evidently 
the    window    had    not    again    been    raised.      The 


134  Beckie's  Job 

two  men  were  talking;  their  words  came  clear  to 
Beckie. 

11 — looked  kinder  pathetic  to  me,"  the  other 
man  said. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mr.  Pray,  "  but  I  see  a  dozen 
like  her  every  day.  I  have  to  have  good-lookers, 
Chet.    And,  Lord,  wasn't  she  homely?  " 

u  Yes,  she  was  homely,"  Chet  answered,  "  aching 
homely.    And  yet " 

Again  Beckie  made  in  the  direction  of  the  stair- 
way— blindly  this  time.  And  now  her  courage  had 
definitely  broken;  it  poured  in  streams  over  her 
cheeks.  She  could  not  descend  to  face  the  three 
successful  houris  below.  She  waited,  struggling 
with  gasps  that  tried  to  turn  into  sobs.  Presently 
she  became  conscious  that  "  Chet  "  had  come  out 
of  the  office  and,  gazing  leisurely  at  the  pictures  on 
the  walls,  had  passed  on  the  other  side  of  the 
balcony,  was  disappearing  down  the  stairs.  Beckie 
watched  him  out  of  sight.  Suddenly  her  tears 
stopped.  She  lifted  her  head  and  threw  hei 
shoulders  back.  With  a  decisive  hardening  of  hei 
expression,  she  turned,  not  in  the  direction  of  th< 
stairs  but  of  the  office.  Mr.  Pray  looked  up  froi 
his  work  when  she  opened  the  door,  but  obvioush 
he  was  too  surprised  to  speak. 

"  I've  come  back  to  ask  your  advice,  Mr.  Pray," 
Beckie  said.  M I  suppose  you're  too  busy  to  tal 
with  me.  But  you've  got  to.  I  don't  care  whal 
happens  to  me.  The  worst  you  can  do  is  to  senc 
for  the  police  and  have  me  thrown  out  of  your  office 
and  I  shan't  care  much  if  you  do.  But  if  you  wil 
listen  to  me,  I  would  like  you  to  advise  me  jus 


Beckie's  Job  135" 

as  you  would  your  sister  or  any  girl  you  know;,  for 
I  don't  know  where  to  turn  next.  I'm  desperate. 
I've  been  nearly  a  month  trying  to  get  a  job  and 
I  haven't  landed  one  yet,  although  I've  answered 
dozens  and  dozens  of  ads  and  applied  at  hundreds 
of  places  on  the  chance  that  they  might  need  some- 
body. When  I  came  out  of  your  office  a  little  while 
ago,  I  got  mixed  up  so  on  that  balcony  that  I  came 
back  here  by  accident.  I  heard  you  and  that  gentle- 
man that's  just  gone  out  discussing  me.  I  heard 
you  tell  him  that  you  couldn't  give  me  a  job  because 
I  was  so  homely.  That  didn't  surprise  me  or  hurt 
me — so  very  much.  For  nobody  knows  that  I'm 
homely  better  than  I  do.  I've  always  known  it. 
I've  got  accustomed  to  it.  But  what  I  want  to  ask 
you  is,  what  is  a  homely  girl  going  to  do?  It  isn't 
my  fault  that  I'm  not  pretty.  I'd  do  anything  in 
this  world  if  I  could  make  myself  over.  Nobody 
enjoys  beauty  more  than  I.  I  adore  it.  I  can 
watch  a  pretty  girl  for  hours.  And  yet,  ever  since 
I  can  remember,  I've  had  to  stand  aside  and  see 
pretty  girls  take  with  the  utmost  ease  all  the  things 
that  I  have  to  half  kill  myself  to  get.  I  don't  be- 
grudge them  their  good  luck,  but  I  do  think  it's 
unfair.  And  then  there's  another  side  to  it.  Some- 
times I  wonder  that  men  never  think  that  a  homely 
girl  might  work  harder  and  prove  more  faithful 
than  a  pretty  girl  simply  because  she's  got  to — to 
hold  down  her  job.  I'd  work  my  hands  to  the 
bone  if  somebody  would  only  give  me  a  chance — 
I'd  be  so  grateful — oh,  all  the  rest  of  my  life  I'd — 
But  nobody  will.  What  am  I  going  to  do?  All 
my  life  I've  read  stories — and  heard  them  too — 
about  beautiful  girls  alone  in  large   cities  having 


136  Beckie's  Job 

finally  to  do  dreadful  things  in  order  to  live — I've 
always  thought  that  was  so  terrible.  But  in  the 
last  month  I've  got  a  different  view  on  that  For 
I  can't  do  anything  through  beauty.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  if  you  haven't  that  chance?  You've  got 
to  eat  just  the  same." 

Mr.  Pray's  choleric  blue  eyes  had  gone  from 
Beckie's  face  to  the  brisk  scene  outside  his  window. 
But  there  his  gaze  had  set;  his  face  had  turned  to 
a  mask.  Now  he  spoke.  "  Well,  can't  you  really 
do  anything?  "  he  asked;  and  though  perceptibly  he 
tried  to  make  his  voice  violent,  perceptibly  it  had 
become  gentle.  "  Isn't  there  something  you've  got 
on  you  that's  different  from  other  people?" 

"  I  can  remember  numbers,"  Beckie  answered 
with  the  mental  limpidity  of  despair.  "  It  seems 
to  me  that  I  can  remember  every  number  that's 
ever  been  said  in  my  presence  from  the  day  I  was 
born  until  this  moment.  In  school  I  could  rattle 
off  dates  like  a  phonograph.  And  nobody  in  my 
family  ever  has  to  look  in  the  telephone-book  or 
the  directory  when  I'm  round.  When  I  go  out  here, 
I  shan't  remember  about  what  kind  of  furniture 
there  is  in  this  office  or  what  color  your  eyes  are 
or  what  the  window  looks  out  on,  but  I  shall  know 
that  your  telephone  is  3456  Back  Bay,  that  that 
picture  has  a  tag  with  23743  on  it,  and  that  the 
address  of  this  office  is  673  Boylston." 

Mr.  Pray  swung  about  hard.  "Numbers! " 
said.  "Numbers!  Can  you  remember  numbers 
If  you  can  remember  numbers,  you're  the  girl  Pi 
been  looking  for  for  ten  years.  See  here.  Tl 
pictures  in  our  catalogue  run  from  one  to  thirty-si 
thousand.     Now,  all  those  girls  downstairs  can  re 


Beckie's  Job  137 

member  the  names  of  the  pictures,  the  artist,  who 
painted  them,  the  gallery  where  they  are  hung,  and 
the  city  where  the  gallery  is,  but  there  isn't  one  of 
them  can  get  the  numbers,  except  the  big  sellers, 
without  looking  them  up  in  the  catalogue.  I  can't 
myself.  And  sometimes  a  bunch  of  a  thousand  pic- 
tures will  come  in  from  the  factory  that  have  all 
got  to  be  numbered  and  numbered  quick." 

11  Mr.  Pray,"  Beckie  said  eagerly,  "  at  the  end 
of  six  months  I  should  know  the  number  of  every 
picture  in  this  place." 

"All  right,"  Mr.  Pray  said  shortly.  "You're 
engaged.    I'll  start  you  on  twelve  dollars  a  week." 

"  Oh,"  Beckie  remarked  casually  that  night  just 
before  dinner,  u  Dr.  Pierson  is  going  to  sell  out 
his  practice  and  go  to  Los  Angeles.  He  gave  me 
notice  the  other  day,  and  to-day,  if  you  please,  I 
walked  right  into  the  Renaissance  Art  Company  and 
got  a  job  at  twelve  dollars  a  week." 

M  The  Renaissance  Art  Company,"  Ed  echoed. 
"  That's  on  Boylston  Street.  You  were  awfully 
lucky  to  get  in  there,  Beckie.  I've  met  Pray.  They 
say  he's  an  awfully  hard  man  to  please  but  he's 
mighty  good  to  his  help.  Swell  joint,  isn't  it? 
When  I  go  in  there,  I'm  always  hoping  those  skirts 
will  tear  off  some  cabaret  stuff." 

"  Looks  like  an  aquarium  to  me,"  Matt  said. 
"  I'm  always  expecting  one  of  those  dolls  to  pull 
out  a  banana  and  eat  it  to  prove  she  can  live  under 
water." 

"  I  think  it's  perfectly  charming,"  Lainey  de- 
clared. M  Those  girls  always  look  to  me  like  cap- 
tive princesses  in  Maeterlinck." 


138  Beckie's  Job 


"  Well,  I'm  glad  you're  out  of  that  dentist  office,' 
said  Ann  with  satisfaction.     "  I'd  just  as  soon  have 
a  job  with  the  morgue." 

"Ann,"  Beckie  said  privately  that  night,  "you 
know  you  said  once  that  you'd  like  to  design  some 
clothes  for  me  and  that  you'd  like  to  show  me  how 
to  do  my  hair  a  different  way.  Well,  I  want  you 
to  do  that.  You  see  those  girls  in  Pray's  dress  like 
pictures.  Now  I  know  I  can't  look  like  a  picture, 
but  I  don't  want  to  look  like  a  comic  valentine.  I've 
just  borrowed  twenty  dollars  from  Ed,  and  I  want 
you  to  go  in  town  to-morrow  and  buy  some  stuff 
for  a  dress  that  will  go  with  walls  about  the  color 
of  a  dirty  duster  and  curtains  the  color  of  those 
olives  that  look  as  though  they  were  rotten." 

The  war-horse  scented  battle.  Ann's  slumberous 
eyes  exploded  with  anticipation.  u  I  know  exactly 
what  I'm  going  to  get,"  she  announced  after 
a  brief  interval  of  silent  concentration.  "  I  shall 
buy  it  in  Chinatown.  It  will  be  a  sage-green,  some- 
thing with  a  lustrous  surface  and  very  dull,  shadowy 
figure  in  it  of  the  same  color.  It's  going  to  be 
made  very  high-waisted,  with  a  long  skirt  that  just 
escapes  the  ground — that'll  make  you  look  tall. 
The  girdle  is  going  to  be  of  tomato-red,  combined 
with  gray.  The  sleeves,"  Ann  went  on  meditatively, 
"  will  be  loose  and  come  just  to  your  elbow — your 
arms  are  so  pretty." 

"  I  shall  hate  flowing  sleeves,"  Beckie  faltered. 
"  But  I'll  wear  them,"  she  added  hastily. 

"  You  ought  to  wear  a  string  of  dull  red  beads," 
Ann  went  on. 

uOh  my  grief!"  Beckie  quavered.     "Necklaces 


ices 


Beckie's  Job  139 

always  make  me  feel  as  if  I  was  being  hung.  But 
I'll  wear  it,"  she  added  hastily. 

"Then  I  shall  teach  you  how  to  do  your  hair." 
One  of  Ann's  eyes  was  fixed,  half  closed,  on  her 
sister,  as  though  Beckie  were  a  picture  she  was 
painting.  "  I  shall  part  it  in  the  middle  and  pull  it 
out  soft  about  your  face,  and  coil  it  low  in  your 
neck.  You  must  wear  a  hair-net  so's  to  keep  it  in 
all  day  long." 

"  It  will  make  me  nervous  as  a  witch,  fiddling 
with  a  hair-net,"  Beckie  groaned.  "  But  I'll  wear 
one,"  she  added  hastily. 

"  Miss  Ollivant,"  Mr.  Pray  called  down  from 
the  mezzanine  balcony  six  months  later  (he  was 
reading  from  a  list  of  figures  that  he  held  in  his 
hand),  "what's  987?" 

11  Cimabue  Madonna,  the  Uffizzi,  Florence," 
Beckie  answered. 

"13426?  "  pursued  Mr.  Pray,  making  a  note. 

"  Vermeer  Interior,  The  Hermitage,  St.  Peters- 
burg." 

"29567?" 

"  Rosa  Bonheur's  *  Horse  Fair,'  Metropolitan 
Gallery,  New  York." 

"6578?" 

"  St.  Agnes  Outside  the  Walls,  Rome." 

After  a  while,  Mr.  Pray  returned  to  his  office. 
Downstairs,  Beckie  moved  from  point  to  point,  re- 
placing pictures  in  portfolios.  The  meager  light 
slipped  like  water  down  her  sage-green  dress;  but 
it  caught  in  the  ripples  of  her  hair  and  trembled 
there  in  a  tawny  luster.  It  could  not  penetrate  to  her 
deep  eyes;. they  were  already  lighted  from  within. 


140 


Beckie's  Job 


■    in 


A  man  came  into  the  shop,  glanced  keenly  in 
passing  at  her  preoccupied  face,  ascended  to  the 
mezzanine. 

Beckie,  still  preoccupied,  arose,  photograph  in 
hand,  and  followed  him  up  the  stairs.  She  stopped 
at  the  cabinet  outside  Mr.  Pray's  office.  The  con- 
versation of  the  two  men  penetrated  her  absorption. 

"  Hullo,  Chet,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pray  jovially. 
"How's  the  boy?" 

14  Fine  and  dandy,"  answered  Chet.  "  Say,  I  see 
you  engaged  that  homely  little  thing  that  applied 
for  a  job  the  last  time  I  was  here." 

41  Whaddye  mean — homely?"  roared  Mr.  Pray. 
14  How  in  thunder  can  ever  you  call  her  homely. 
That  girl's  got  a  bean  on  her  that's  the  most  useful 
thing  in  this  establishment.  Let  me  tell  you  her  face 
grows  on  you.  It's  got  more  character  in  it  than 
all  those  wax  dolls  down  there  put  together." 


CHAPTER  VII 

ANN'S  NEW  SET 

"VTOU  don't  like  Mrs.  Peabody,do  you,  Lainey?" 
X    Ann  asked,  scooping  dabs  of  face  cream  from 
the  jar  and  slapping  one  on  each  cheek. 

"  No,"  Lainey  answered  decisively,  a  I  don't. 
At  least  I  shouldn't  quite  say  that.  I  don't  dislike 
her.  She  interests  me  and  fascinates  me.  She's  as 
quiet — and  yet  I  can't  take  my  eyes  off  of  her.  I 
always  feel  as  if  there  was  a  bomb  in  the  room 
and  somebody  had  just  lighted  the  fuse." 

The  two  girls  were  alone  in  their  big  attic  room. 
They  were  alone  in  the  house,  for  that  matter.  Ed 
was  in  Panama.  Beckie  was  staying  with  Aunt  Mar- 
garet, Matt  commuting  with  Lory  Mack.  In  this 
Adamless  community,  Roly  had  become  a  negligible 
quantity.  Ann  sat  before  the  big,  tall,  black  walnut 
bureau,  which,  in  spite  of  the  premeditated  coquetry 
of  chintz  draperies,  still  looked  like  a  mausoleum. 
Lainey  sat  curled  up  on  the  bed,  watching  Ann. 
Lainey's  dressing  was  always  careless,  preoccupied, 
uninspired,  lacking  in  scenic  effect  and  in  dramatic 
quality.  Ann's  dressing,  on  the  other  hand,  devel- 
oped suspense,  climax,  color,  charm;  it  was  a  tech- 
nical marvel.  Now  she  rubbed  the  cream  off  her 
face  with  a  towel.  The  color  flooded  under  her 
white  skin;  it  seemed  to  raise  a  nap  on  it,  to  turn 
it  to  velvet,  shot  with  light.    Ann  passed  a  powder- 

141 


142  Ann's  New  Set 

pad  over  it;  the  rose  light  glowed  through  a  silver 
gossamer. 

"  I  think  she's  a  wonder,"  Ann  disagreed  serenely, 
11  and  I  like  her."  Perhaps  there  was  a  shade  to 
much  of  emphasis  on  Ann's  like.  She  let  down  her 
hair.  It  fell  heavily  like  a  mantle  of  fur,  short 
at  the  ears  and  ending  in  a  point  at  her  waist. 
She  brushed  it  with  swift,  smashing  strokes, 
coiled  it. 

"  But  then  I  like  all  of  those  people,"  she  con- 
cluded. "  What  is  there  about  them  that  you  don't 
like?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  Lainey  confessed  frankly. 
"  And  it  isn't  that  I  dislike  them  exactly.  It's  more 
that  I  disapprove  of  them,  and  yet  I  hate  to  say 
disapprove  because  it  sounds  priggish.  But  people 
always  appal  me  who  work  so  hard  to  have  a  goo 


I 


time." 


"  Well,  you  don't  think  having  a  good  time 
easy,  do  you?  "  Ann  demanded,  smearing  her  cheeks 
with  bandoline.     "  It  certainly  takes  an  awful  lot 
of  money." 

"  That's  the  only  thing  it  doesn't  take — accord 
ing  to  my  idea,"  asserted  Lainey.  uAnd  as  for 
the  way  they  work  at  it — No,  it  doesn't  seem  to  me 
that  a  good  time  comes  that  way." 

"  I  should  think,"  Ann  said,  "  being  a  Socialist 
and  a  militant,  and  all  those  queer  things,  that  you'd 
like  Bohemians."  She  pulled  forward  from  the 
main  mass  two  highly-burnished  scrolls  of  hair, 
patted  them  gently  onto  the  bandolined  surfaces, 
thrust  above  them  the  huge  curved  pins  that  rein- 
forced their  position. 

"  I    wouldn't    call    them    bohemians     exactly," 


Ann's  New  Set  143 

Lainey  said,  more  analytic.  "  I'd  call  them  bo- 
hemiacs.  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  of  course, 
but  it  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  real  bohemians 
would  be  simpler." 

"  Well,"  said  Ann  with  emphasis,  u  I  like  them 
all.  The  only  way  I  can  judge  people  is  by  their 
clothes;  and  they  all  wear  perfectly  stunning 
things."  She  drew  on  a  little  lace  chemisette,  which 
she  had  made  with  the  assistance  of  Bird.  She  ad- 
justed it  with  quick  deft  movements  of  her  big 
shapely  hands.  She  passed  the  powder-pad  over 
the  triangle  of  neck  that  this  exposed;  again  the 
flesh  turned  to  velvet — the  color  of  milk  this  time. 
"  And,  Lainey,  I'm  tired  of  knowing  shabby  peo- 
ple. I've  known  them  all  my  life.  I  want  to  know 
some  smart  people  for  a  change — people  who  do 
all  kinds  of  things  without  asking  what  it  costs. 
And  then  I  do  love  a  spender,  and  both  Commodore 
Carleton  and  Mr.  Talbot  are  spenders."  She 
walked  over  to  the  bed  and  picked  up  the  gown  of 
the  blue  serge  suit  which  she  had  made  with  the 
assistance  of  a  seamstress.  Bending  and  curving 
so  that  the  hooks  would  not  catch  in  her  hair,  she 
pulled  it  on  over  her  head,  coaxed  it  to  slim  smooth- 
ness and  trimness.  She  plucked  from  the  bureau 
the  little,  round,  amusing,  extraordinary  hat  which 
she  had  trimmed  with  no  assistance  whatever.  It 
looked  like  an  aeroplane  of  black  satin  with  wings 
of  black  maline.  "  Of  course,  we  know  nice  people ; 
but  although  they've  got  plenty  of  class,  they  cer- 
tainly are  dull.  It  seems  to  me  the  most  wonderful 
thing  in  the  world  that  Mrs.  Peabody  has  taken 
such  a  fancy  to  me."  She  drew  on  the  chamois 
gloves  which  were  so  exquisitely  clean  because  she 


144  Ann's  New  Set 

had  cleaned  them  herself.     "  It  seems  to  me  that 
I'm  living  for  the  first  time  in  my  life." 

"Well,  don't  think  for  a  moment  that  I'm  not 
glad  for  you,  Ann,"  Lainey  said.  Her  tone  was 
full  of  fervor.  But  as  she  watched  her  sister  leave 
the  house  and  walk  briskly  up  the  street,  the  enthu- 
siasm went  out  of  her  eyes ;  they  became  all  doubt. 

11  First  you  pull  it  free  from  the  shell  with  your 
fork,"  said  Jimmie  Talbot.  "  Then  you  salt  it. 
I  never  add  anything  but  lemon-juice.  But  seeing 
you're  a  beginner,  I  guess  we'll  do  the  regular 
stunts.  Now  just  a  drop  of  tabasco.  Here  !  Here! 
That's  too  much.  You'll  burn  the  roof  of  your 
mouth  off.  Now  a  little  horseradish.  That's 
right.  Squeeze  the  lemon  over  all  of  them.  Re- 
member to  swallow  it  whole.     Now  you're  off." 

"  Isn't  it  delicious,"  commented  Ann.    The  men- 
tal glow  that,  with  her,  always  turned  to  a  physical 
glow  now  ran  through  her  entire  system.     She  ha< 
just  encompassed  her  first  little-neck  clam  and  she 
had  a  conviction  that  that  hazardous  and  tingling 
feat  had  admitted  her  to  the  final  chamber  of  younj 
ladyhood.     She  ate  the  rest  of  the  clams  slowly, 
holding  her   fork  with  the   instinctive   grace,   hall 
forceful  grip,  half  butterfly  caress,  with  which  hei 
large  hands  closed  on  all  small  objects.    From  time 
to  time,  her  glance  shot  through  the  room,  and  after 
each  survey  her  eyes  seemed  to  flash  a  more  living 
gold,  her  cheeks  a  more  violent  bloom. 

It  was  the  scene  and  the  atmosphere  in  whicl 
she  had  in  imagination  seen  herself  a  hundred  times 
— the  dinner-hour  of  Boston's  biggest  and  smartest 
hotel.     The  room  was  crowded;  the  stadium  froi 


Ann's  New  Set  145 

which  Ann  had  witnessed  her  first  varsity  baseball 
game  had  seemed  to  empty  its  contents  directly  into 
the  grill.  The  big  room  bulged  to  bursting  with 
beautiful  youth.  The  Harvard  crimson  and  the 
iYale  blue  made  a  network  of  color  everywhere. 
And  in  the  air — half  a  guttural  bubbling,  half  a 
high-pitched  gabbling,  crisscrossed  with  music, 
burst  by  jets  of  laughter  and  broken  by  the  popping 
of  champagne-corks — the  noise  pressed  on  Ann's 
bewildered  sense  like  a  ponderable  thing. 

"  Can  you  eat  your  squab  without  assistance?" 
Jimmie  Talbot  asked  presently. 

"  No,"  Ann  confessed,  "  I  can't,  but  I  will.  If 
they  only  served  manicure-scissors,  I'd  know  how 
to  go  at  it.  But  somehow  it  seems  so  wicked.  I 
feel  as  if  I  were  eating  the  canary-bird." 

Their  own  table,  Ann  decided  privately,  was  as 
interesting  as  any.  Indeed,  the  arrival  of  their  party 
stirred  a  long  rippling  wave  of  turned  heads  which 
began  at  the  door  and  ended  only  when  they  sat 
down.  Apparently  the  table  had  been  reserved  for 
them;  it  was  set  for  eight  and  decorated  with 
crimson. 

This  in  itself  would  provide  substance  for  a  talk 
until  midnight  with  Lainey,  but  it  was  not  all. 

For  instance,  a  gentleman  in  evening-clothes,  who 
Ann  guessed  to  be  the  proprietor  and  who  treated 
.Commodore  Carleton  with  an  obsequious  kindness, 
had  just  presented  each  of  the  ladies  with  a  souvenir. 
Ann's  gift  was  a  little  figurine  in  cloth  of  a  Harvard 
player.  It  would  ornament  her  bureau,  Ann  vowed, 
until  she  died.  Also,  from  time  to  time,  a  concealed 
orchestra  emitted  the  latest  and  choicest  tango 
music.     Ann  had  enjoyed  this  more  than  anything, 


146  Ann's  New  Set 

until  Mr.  Talbot  said,  "  What  rotten  music !  Why 
do  hotels  keep  up  this  farce  of  having  an 
orchestra?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Ann  said,  taking  her  cue  at  once. 
"  Isn't  it  an  absurd  custom?  " 

Besides  all  this,  everybody  except  Ann  had  drunk 
cocktails.  And  now,  reposing  on  the  floor  between 
her  and  Commodore  Carleton,  sparkled  a  silver 
bucket,  filled  with  ice,  from  which  emerged  a  big 
bottle  with  a  golden  top.  Ann  had  not  shared 
the  cocktails;  she  had  not  tasted  the  foamy,  sparkly 
contents  of  the  gold-topped  bottle.  But  everybody 
else  had;  their  glasses  had  been  filled  twice.  It 
seemed  to  Ann  that  she  had  never  seen  people  so 
touchingly  happy  over  a  baseball  game.  Ann  was 
happy  too — happier  than  any  of  them — but  not 
because  of  the  Harvard  victory,  because  she  was 
where  she  was. 

It  was  a  curious  thing  about  these  people — Ann 
had  noticed  it  many  times — they  seemed  to  depend 
so  much  on  drinks.  Always  they  were  just  about 
to  have  a  drink,  or  always  they  had  just  had  one. 
The  greatest  catastrophe  that  could  happen  in  their 
various  excursions  by  sea  or  land  was  to  strike  a 
dry  zone.  They  were  always  making  detours  in 
their  automobile-trips  to  get  to  places  they  had  not 
intended  to  visit,  or  to  avoid  spots  they  had  pur- 
posed to  explore,  according  as  they  turned  out 
11  wet "  or  "  dry."  But  they  were  very  attractive 
about  their  drinking.  Ann  was  experiencing  a 
scathing  revulsion  against  the  atmosphere  of  total 
abstinence  in  which  she  had  grown  up.  She  discov- 
ered that  all  her  life  she  had  been  harboring  many 
foolish  delusions.     She  had  supposed,  for  instance, 


I 


Ann's  New  Set  147 

that  when  people  drank,  they  began  instantly  to 
stutter  and  stagger.  In  point  of  fact,  there  was 
no  change  whatever  as  far  as  Ann  could  see — except 
for  a  more  lively  turn  to  the  conversation  after  the 
second  round  of  cocktails.  And  Jimmie  Talbot 
was  always  much  nicer  then.  He  became  talkative, 
communicative.  Ann  felt  that  she  did  not  yet  know 
these  people  very  well,  but  after  a  second  cocktail 
Jimmie  Talbot  dropped  remarks  all  along  the  line 
of  their  tete-a-tete  which  cleared  up  much.  Only 
one  thing  bothered.  Commodore  Carleton,  who 
seemed  ever  to  have  one  ear  open  for  their  con- 
versation, was  constantly  interrupting  to  engage 
Ann  in  tete-a-tete.  But,  although  his  talk  always 
made  Ann  laugh,  it  also  made  her,  as  she  told  Lainey, 
feel  more  like  sixteen  than  eighteen. 

u  You  see,  Ann,"  Lainey  had  remarked  at  this, 
with  one  of  her  rare  touches  of  humor,  M  Commo- 
dore Carleton  doesn't  realize  yet  that  there's  at 
least  ten  years'  difference  between  those  ages." 

Such  an  episode  had  just  occurred.  Mr.  Talbot 
had  become  communicative.  "  You  see  that  table 
over  there,  Ann?"  he  said.  "Well,  look  at 
the  girl  with  the  setting  hen  on  her  hat.     I'll  tell 

you    a    story    about    her "    when    Commodore 

Carleton  burst  in. 

"  This  is  to  Ann,"  he  said.  Everybody  raised  a 
glass  and  drank  deep. 

Ann  sparkled  and  blazed,  flushed  and  smiled.  "  I 
don't  know  what  you  say  when  anybody  drinks  to 
you,"  she  confided  to  the  table  generally,  "  but  it 
certainly  makes  you  feel  important." 

"  Oh,  Ann,"  Commodore  Carleton  sighed,  "  if  I 
could  only  have  your  spirits  on  plain  water." 


148  Ann's  New  Set 

Commodore  Carleton  proceeded  to  engage  her  in 
one  of  his  little-girl  talks.  He  asked  her  which  she 
thought  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  room  and  he  agreed 
with  her  choice.  Ann  asked  him  which  he  thought 
the  most  attractive  man,  and  utterly  disagreed  with 
him.  The  orchestra  played  a  selection  from, 
11  Hansel  und  Gretel,"  and  he  told  her  all  about 
the  opera.  He  said  that  it  was  just  old  enough 
for  Ann  and  that  when  it  came  to  Boston  he  must 
remember  to  get  tickets  for  her  and  her  charming 
sister.  To  Ann's  great  delight,  he  made  a  note 
to  that  effect  in  a  little  leather  notebook. 

At  the  same  time,  Ann  secretly  longed  to  resume 
her  tete-a-tete  with  Jimmie  Talbot.  It  would  never 
occur  to  her  to  ask  Commodore  Carleton  any  but 
impersonal  questions.  But  Jimmie  Talbot  had  just 
swung  into  the  mood  in  which  with  just  a  little  help 
from  her — the  push  of  an  interjected  phrase,  the 
pull  of  a  tiny  question — he  would  float  into  a  full  cur- 
rent of  confidence.  There  were  many  definite  ques- 
tions that  Ann  wanted  to  ask  and  many  more,  as 
yet  vague  and  unformulated,  that  would,  she  knew, 
hurry  in  their  wake.  She  was  conscious  of  a  great, 
a  burning  curiosity  about  these  people. 

She  had  met  this  set  all  at  once.  Mrs.  Damon, 
her  nearest  neighbor  in  Marlowe  Place,  had  let  the 
big  old  Damon  house  to  Mrs.  Peabody.  Mrs. 
Damon  asked  Lainey  and  Ann  to  call  on  her  tenants. 
Lainey  and  Ann  had  called — and  all  the  rest  had 
come  naturally  enough.  Party  after  party  had  oc- 
curred— mainly  on  Jimmie  Talbot's  initiative. 
Lainey  dropped  out  of  the  combination  at  once. 
For,  except  with  Commodore  Carleton,  Lainey  was 
not  mentally   at  home.     Ann,   however,   was  per- 


Ann's  New  Set  149 

fectly  at  home.  She  liked  everybody.  She  could 
not  quite  make  up  her  mind  which  she  preferred, 
Commodore  Carleton  or  Jimmie  Talbot.  If  she 
inclined  a  little  towards  the  latter,  it  was  only  be- 
cause, so  unmistakably,  he  inclined  towards  her. 
The  two  men  were  very  different:  Commodore 
Carleton  so  gracefully  slender,  so  suavely  dark, 
with  so  distinguished  a  baldness  and  such  beautiful 
manners;  Jimmie  Talbot  so  athletically  burly,  so 
freshly  blonde,  with  so  infectious  a  gaiety  and  such 
beautiful  clothes.  But  Ann  was  very  certain  that 
she  liked  Mrs.  Peabody  best  of  all.  She  said  this 
to  Lainey  with  a  strenuous  emphasis  every  time  the 
opportunity  presented.  Ann  was  certain,  too,  that 
Mrs.  Peabody  liked  her;  although  lately  they  had 
had  little  to  say  to  each  other.  Ann  had  a  feeling 
that  Mrs.  Peabody  wanted  to  say  something  very 
much — that  it  trembled  on  her  lips  every  time  Ann 
accepted  another  invitation. 

Mrs.  Peabody  was  the  most  amazing  person 
that  Ann  had  ever  seen. 

She  was  one  of  those  women  who  succeed  in  being 
wonderful-looking  with  utterly  inadequate  mate- 
rials; a  skin  naturally  pasty,  hair  characterlessly 
black  and  straight,  features  at  odds  with  all  her 
facial  contours.  But  she  had  a  tall,  slim,  sharply- 
curved  figure.  She  moved  with  the  swift  effortless 
dart  of  a  sea  creature.  Her  clothes  always  seemed 
the  emanation  of  her  personality.  And  the  glassed- 
over  top  of  her  dressing-table  supported  files  of 
magic  unguents  in  cut-glass  bottles  and  jeweled 
boxes.  And  so  when,  white-skinned,  sleek-haired, 
jet-eyed,  carmine-lipped,  curved  like  a  Damascus 
blade,  her  meager  subtle  draperies  drifting  like  a 


150  Ann's  New  Set 

soul-spume,  she  came  floating  down  the  big  shadowy 
parlors  of  the  old  Damon  house,  she  seemed  to 
have  stepped  from  one  of  the  Japanese  prints  in 
which  the  room  abounded.  Socially,  she  was  a 
strange  combination.  One  half  the  time  she 
smothered  under  a  listlessness  that  was  the  fellow 
of  Commodore  Carleton's;  again  she  exploded  with 
a  vivacity  that  left  Jimmie  Talbot  dry  and  formal. 

Of  Mr.  Peabody,  Ann  saw  very  little.  He  was 
a  tall,  thin,  bald-headed  spectacled  gentleman,  al- 
ways in  smoking-jacket  and  house-slippers.  He  was 
writing  a  book — it  was  Lainey  who  discovered  this 
— about  the  influence  of  Marco  Polo  on  Christopher 
Columbus.  Or  was  it  of  Christopher  Columbus  on 
Marco  Polo — Ann  could  never  remember  which  it 
was.  But  Lainey  knew  and  Lainey  said  it  would  be 
an  "  epoch-making  "  book.  Mr.  Peabody  did  not 
do  anything  in  particular  beyond  spending  days  at 
the  Public  Library  and  he  seemed  to  have  no  rela- 
tion to  the  whirl  of  his  wife's  life.  Commodore 
Carleton  and  Jimmie  Talbot  had  a  very  definite 
relation  to  that  whirl;  they  were  the  hubs  of  its 
wheels.  There  were,  of  course,  spokes  to  those 
wheels.  Three  were  present:  Jock  Clarkson,  a 
plump,  feathery-haired  gentleman  whose  transparent 
epidermic  softness  contrasted  strangely  with  his 
opaque  ocular  hardness;  Miss  Bernice  Berringer, 
the  first  real  chorus-girl,  and  Miss  Rae  Leigh,  the 
first  real  artist's  model  that  Ann  had  ever  known. 

Mr.  Peabody  sat  between  the  two  young  women. 
Ann  noted  with  approval  the  attention  they  pai< 
him.    First  one  filled  his  glass  with  half  the  contents 
of  hers ;  then  the  other  augmented  it  from  the  bottle. 
Mr.  Peabody  passed  rapidly  from  a  stage  of  ex- 


Ann's  New  Set  151 

treme  volubility  about  nothing  in  particular  through 
one  of  great  mirth  about  even  less  to  a  brooding 
silence.  Finally  he  withdrew  so  far  into  himself 
that  his  eyelids  drooped  to  cover  his  retreat. 
"  Thinking  of  Marco  Polo,"  Ann  thought  scorn- 
fully.   "  Isn't  it  fierce  being  a  high-brow !  " 

The  two  ladies,  indulgent  of  Mr.  Peabody's  in- 
tellectual absorption,  devoted  themselves  thence- 
forth to  the  rest  of  the  party.  Ann  like  to  watch 
them,  although  she  stood  a  little  in  awe  of  them. 
Miss  Leigh  had  never  of  her  own  accord  addressed 
her.  And  Miss  Berringer  seemed  not  to  look  at 
Ann  when  she  talked  with  her.  Miss  Berringer 
could  sink  her  gaze  deep  enough  into  Jimmie  Tal- 
bot's eyes,  Ann  observed. 

Miss  Berringer  was  a  big  woman  with  eyes  baby- 
ishly  round  and  blue  and  a  voice  babyishly  round 
and  treble.  She  wore  her  golden  hair  carefully 
tousled ;  it  was  all  ripply,  glinting  ends.  Her  figure 
seemed  to  run  from  the  point  of  her  tiny,  big- 
buckled  shoes  wider  and  wider  until  her  square 
shoulders  effected  a  truncation.  Her  white  lace 
gown  fitted  this  pyramid  so  perfectly  that  it  looked 
as  though  it  would  have  to  be  pared  off. 

Miss  Leigh,  on  the  contrary,  began  at  the  top 
with  a  tiny,  flat,  smooth,  russet-brown  head  which 
Lainey  said  reminded  her  of  a  snake  that  has  just 
succeeded  in  coiling.  And  although  architectur- 
ally she  was  as  straight  and  compact  as  a  sheathed 
umbrella,  she  ran  down  by  means  of  her  flame- 
colored  pagoda  dress  to  a  greater  and  greater  am- 
plitude. Miss  Leigh  was,  in  some  respects,  Ann 
thought,  the  most  wonderful  of  them  all;  for  she 
smoked  cigarettes  all  the  time.     Ann  decided  that 


152  'Ann's  New  Set 

she  must  swallow  the  smoke;  it  was  such  a  long 
time  after  she  drew  it  into  her  mouth  before  it 
emerged,  thinly  coiling  and  fluttering,  from  her 
nostrils.  Ann  often  wondered  if  Miss  Leigh's 
strange  murky  pallor,  through  which  the  smolder- 
ing eyes  seemed  to  have  singed  a  slit,  was  the  re- 
sult of  this  habit.  Ann  had  a  discontented  idea  that 
her  own  wild-rose  bloom  was  a  little  vulgar. 

14  We're  all  going  to  the  Pop  Concert  Thursday 
night,  Ann,"  Jimmie  Talbot  said  presently.  "  Re- 
member, don't  make  any  engagement  for  it." 

"No,  I  won't,"  Ann  said  obediently.  "Who's 
going?" 

"  Oh,  all  that's  here  to-night,"  Talbot  answered 
indifferently,  "  unless  we  drop  Miss  Berringer." 

"  Oh,"  said  Ann.  And  her  "  oh  "  had  a  little 
submerged  question  in  it.  She  was  wild  to  know 
why  Miss  Berringer  should  be  dropped  when  it  so 
distinctly  ruined  Miss  Berringer's  evening  if  Jimmie 
Talbot  were  not  present. 

"  She  makes  me  sick,"  Talbot  went  on,  as  thougl 
answering  that  question.  "  I  hate  fat  women,  am 
way.  Don't  let  yourself  get  fat,  Ann,  whatevei 
you  do." 

Ann  did  not  want  to  get  fat.  At  the  same  tim< 
she  thought  that  Miss  Berringer  was  rather  fasci 
nating.     She  said  so. 

"  And  it  seems  to  suit  her,  being  plump — don't 
you  think?  "  she  advanced  a  little  timidly.  For  the 
first  time  in  her  life,  Ann  was  examining  her  opinions 
very  carefully  before  she  expressed  them. 

"Well,"  Talbot  went  on,   "if   she  didn't  flas 
that  baby-blue  stare  so  often.     And  that  baby-blue 
voice   gets    on   my   nerves.     Bernice   is    a   terrib* 


i 


Ann's  New  Set  153 

grafter  too.  I  get  so  tired  of  paying  for  her  dinners. 
Why  the  other  night " 

And  then — it  was  maddening — "This  is  to  Ann," 
Commodore  Carleton  interrupted  from  the  other 
side.  Again  everybody  raised  creaming  glasses  and 
drank. 

14  Dear  me !  "  said  Ann,  glowing  and  glittering, 
"  you  make  me  feel  like  a  queen  or  something. 
My  brothers  haven't  any  idea  what  an  important 
person  I  am." 

14  Oh,  Ann,"  Commodore  Carleton  sighed  again, 
"  if  I  only  could  have  your  spirits  on  plain  water." 

Again  he  engaged  her  in  a  little-girl  talk. 

The  dinner  progressed.  More  and  more  fre- 
quently the  glasses  creamed  full  and  creamed 
empty.  By  and  by  came  coffee  and  what  Ann  after- 
wards described  to  Lainey  as,  M  little  darling  glasses 
of  syrupy-looking  stuff  with  golden  specks  floating 
through  it."  Ann  would  have  loved  to  taste  this, 
but  she  declined  it. 

u  Now  where'll  we  go?"  Mrs.  Peabody  asked 
at  last,  dipping  glittering  nails  into  her  finger-bowl. 

What,  after  all,  she  loved  most  about  this  set, 
Ann  decided,  was  that  their  parties  never  seemed 
to  end.  They  were  always  going  somewhere 
else. 

"  How  about  the  Pop  ?  "  Miss  Berringer  said. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  go  to  the  Pop,"  Jimmie 
Talbot  decided  for  them.  "  Besides  we  couldn't  get 
a  table  now.  Let's  go  joy-riding.  I'll  telephone  for 
the  car." 

11  Well,  for  goodness'  sake,  Jimmie,"  Miss  Leigh 
said,  "  don't  get  us  forty  miles  from  a  drink,  the 
way  •you  did  the  other  night." 


154  Ann's  New  Set 

"  Well,  did  you  have  a  good  time  ? "  Lainey, 
popping  her  little  filmy  head  from  the  pillow,  con- 
templated her  sister,  with  drooping  eyes,  sleepy- 
sweet. 

"  Oh,  lovely!  "  Ann  sighed.  Ann's  color  was  as 
high,  her  eyes  as  brilliant,  her  lips  as  fresh,  as  at 
six  o'clock.  "  We  had  a  wonderful  dinner  and  then 
we  drove  and  drove;  oh,  everybody  was  so  gay. 
And  just  think,  Lainey,  they've  asked  me  to  the 
Pop,  Thursday  night.  I  keep  thinking  they'll  get 
sick  of  me  and  drop  me.  What  have  I  to  offer  such 
wonderful  people?" 

"  You've  got  those  eyes  to  offer  them,  foi 
one  thing,"  Lainey  said,  dropping  back  on  th< 
pillow.  M  They  won't  get  sick  of  you  as  long  as 
you  keep  them  in  your  head." 

"Lainey/"  Ann  said.  But,  involuntarily,  sh< 
turned  and  met  with  her  own  wide  flaming  gaze  th< 
deep  golden  look  in  the  mirror. 

Thursday  night  at  the  Pop  turned  out  to  b 
another  wonderful  occasion.  Again  their  table  had 
been  engaged  in  advance.  Again  it  seemed  to  Ann 
that  a  long  wave  of  turned  heads  cast  up  a  spray 
of  comment  as  they  took  their  seats.  Mrs.  Peabody 
would  have  excited  notice  anywhere.  She  wore 
black  and  white;  two  colors  brought  together  al- 
ways in  sharp  contrast  and  in  curious  effects  of 
angles  and  planes.  More  than  ever,  she  looked 
like  a  study  of  herself  done  in  the  Japanesque  man- 
ner by  some  clever  painter.  She  was  unusually 
apathetic.  Perhaps  for  this  reason  she  drank  three 
absinthe  frappes  in  succession.  Commodore  Carle- 
ton  who,  Ann  thought,  looked  worn,  devoted  him 


Ann's  New  Set  155 

self  to  her;  they  talked  in  low  tones.  Ann  often 
thought  how  interesting  their  conversation  must  be ; 
Commodore  Carleton  wouldn't  dare  to  inflict  little- 
girl  talk  on  Mrs.  Peabody.  It  was  a  small  party. 
Miss  Berringer,  more  than  ever  like  a  heroic-size 
bisque  doll,  was  accompanied  by  a  stranger,  a  tall, 
thin,  sandy  person,  a  Mr.  Roper,  who  at  regular 
intervals  impaled  Ann  with  a  long,  thin,  expression- 
less glance.  After  the  important  matter  of  the 
drinks  had  been  attended  to,  Ann  commented  regret- 
fully on  Mr.  Peabody's  absence. 

"  Yes,  the  old  fool,"  Jimmie  Talbot  said  unex- 
pectedly. "  And  I'm  glad  of  it.  I  wish  he'd  get 
wise  to  the  fact  that  nobody  wants  him,  putting  the 
kibosh  on  perfectly  good  parties,  talking  about  that 
prehistoric  gink,  Polo  Marco.  I  suppose  some  time 
he'll  finish  the  rotten  thing  and  then  poor  Carleton'll 
have  to  put  up  to  get  it  printed." 

"  But  why  should  Commodore  Carleton  have 
to  pay  for  it,"  Ann  protested.  "  The  Peabodys 
must  have  a  lot  of  money.  See  how  they  spend 
it." 

"  Well — yes — of  course — but  you  see "  Jim- 
mie Talbot  seemed  to  lose  all  oral  connection  with 
his  thought.  "  What  I  mean  is — Well,  it  would  be 
so  like  the  Commodore — he's  such  a  philanthropic 
guy — to  get  some  publishers  to  pretend  to  accept 
the  book — so  that  Peabody  would  never  know  what 
a  lemon  it  was " 

11  Oh,  I  see,"  said  Ann  slowly.  And  she  added 
blindly,  more  by  way  of  making  conversation  than 
real  comment,  "  Commodore  Carleton  looks  tired 
to-night." 

Jimmie   Talbot   stopped  to   finish  his  high-ball. 


156  Ann's  New  Set 

"  Yes,  I  guess  he  didn't  sleep  any  last  night.  Mrs. 
Carleton  had  one  of  her  attacks." 

"  Mrs.  Carleton !  "  Ann  exclaimed.  "  Is  Commo- 
dore Carleton  married?" 

"Why  yes!"  Talbot  said  this  after  a  slight 
hesitation.  But  he  went  on  volubly  and  smoothly 
enough.     "  Didn't  you  know  that?" 

Ann  had  not  known  it;  and  for  one  instant  she  had 
a  sensation  of  being  cheated.  The  next  moment, 
however,  she  realized  her  ignorance  was  merely  the 
result  of  her  stupidity. 

"Well,  everybody  else  does,"  Talbot  went  on 
briskly.  a  Mrs.  Carleton  has  been  an  invalid  for 
years." 

11  Oh,"  Ann  said  blankly.  It  was  to  recover  from 
this  that  she  said,  M  Where  is  Mr.  Clarkson  this 
evening?  " 

"  In  Chicago.  His  firm  wired  him  to  come.  He 
left  yesterday  morning." 

Ann  did  not  digest  this.  Her  eyes  had  grown  per- 
plexed. Indeed,  all  the  evening,  they  held  a  little 
dulling  shadow.  Her  gaze  kept  going  from  Mrs. 
Peabody  to  Commodore  Carleton  and  back  again. 
Nobody  noticed  this.  Once  Commodore  Carleton 
engaged  her  in  one  of  his  little-girl  talks;  but  ob- 
viously his  mind  was  not  on  the  conversation.  It 
concluded  with  a  question  from  Ann.  "  Where  is 
Miss  Leigh  to-night?" 

14  She's  in  Chicago,"  the  Commodore  answered 
absently.     u  She  went  yesterday  morning." 

"  Well,  did  you  have  a  good  time  to-night?  " 
asked  Lainey. 

"  Lovely !  "  Ann  replied,  and  stopped  abruptly. 


Ann's  New  Set  157 

Silence  ensued.  "  Lainey  Ollivant,"  Ann  began 
fiercely  after  a  while,  M  if  you  think  I  care  what 
people's  morals  are,  you  might  as  well  know  that 
I  don't.  I  don't  care  what  they're  doing  so  long 
as  they  seem  well-behaved  on  the  surface.  I  hate 
dull  people  and  homely  people  and  poor  people  and 
shabby  people — women  who  look  as  if  they  did  their 
own  work  and  made  their  own  clothes;  and  men 
who  are  tightwads  and  high-brows.  I  hate  serious 
people  and  refined  people.  Take  Miss  Huling,  for 
instance.  You'd  know  she  had  class  just  to  look 
at  her  hats.     But  I  don't  care  for  class  any  more. 

I  like  spenders  better  than  anybody  else." 

"All  right!"  A  little  -coo  of  mirth  pulsed 
through  Lainey's  sleepy  voice.  "  Don't  mind  me. 
What  is  your  next  engagement?" 

11  We're  going  to  Nantasket  on  Commodore 
Carleton's  yacht,"  Ann  said  with  the  air  of  one  who 
unfolds  a  fairy-tale.  u  We're  going  to  have  dinner 
at  a  hotel  and  supper  on  board  the  yacht  and  we're 
going  to  sail  home  by  moonlight.  It's  going  to  be 
rather  a  big  party.  There  will  be  two  automobiles 
at  the  wharf  to  meet  us — Commodore  Carleton's 
and  Mr.  Talbot's,  Lainey."  Again  Ann  had  the 
air  of  challenging  her  sister,  "  Commodore  Carle- 
ton  is  one  of  the  finest  and  most  delightful  men 
I've  ever  known." 

"  Oh,  he's  a  duck,"  Lainey  murmured  so  sleepily. 

II  Why  I'm  not  dead  in  love  with  him,  I  don't  know." 

14  I  never  could  fall  in  love  with  him,"  Ann  said 
decidedly,  "but  I'd  always  like  him."  Again  she 
threw  an  explosive  at  her  sleepy  sister,  "  And  Mrs. 
Peabody  is  just  as  charming  as  she  can  be." 

11  Yes,"   Lainey  agreed  with  reservation,   M  if  a 


[158  Anil's  New  Set 

stick  of  dynamite  suspended  from  the  ceiling  by  a 
thread  is  charming." 

11  Well  she  is,"  Ann  muttered. 

The  trip  to  Nantasket  was  all  that  Ann  expected 
of  it.  Only  one  blot  marred  the  day's  joy.  And 
that  came  immediately  after  the  long  gay,  sunlit  sail 
down  the  harbor.  They  discovered  that  they  were 
hungry.;  yet  it  was  too  early  to  dine.  Besides,  as 
they  had  beaten  the  first  of  the  regular  excursion- 
boats,  the  hotels  had  not  yet  thrown  off  the  night's 
torpor.  An  occasional  small  cafe  showed  an  open 
door,  a  sleepy  waiter  moving  within.  They  stepped 
into  one  of  these. 

It  was  a  small,  clean  bare  room,  each  table  cov- 
ered with  enamel-cloth  and  set  with  a  series  of 
articles  in  heavy  pressed-glass,  sugar-bowl,  pitcher, 
pepper-pot,  salt-shaker,  toothpick  holder.  An  old 
man  sat  at  the  desk,  painfully  adding  in  longhand  a 
list  of  special  dishes  to  a  pile  of  printed  bills.  He 
came  over  to  their  table,  a  frail,  bent,  gray-bearded 
figure.  An  extraordinary  pair  of  spectacles  made  him 
grotesque.  The  glasses  were  thick  and  blue,  rectan- 
gular in  shape,  quadruple,  hinged  so  that  one  glass 
covered  the  eye  and  the  other  bent  around  the 
temple. 

Talbot  ordered  chowder.  The  old  man  went  to 
the  slide  and  called  the  order  into  the  depths.  But 
before  bending  over  he  took  off  his  glasses  and 
placed  them  on  the  desk.  Without  them,  it  was 
apparent  he  could  see  but  dimly;  he  bent  and  peered 
and  shambled.  When  the  steaming  dishes  shot  up 
from  below,  he  himself  served  them,  carrying  the 
plates  with  great  caution. 


Ann's  New  Set  159 

Whenever  the  old  man  turned  his  back,  Jimmie 
Talbot  did  an  imitation  of  him.  The  mimicry  was 
perfect,  but  it  made  Ann  uncomfortable;  she  was 
afraid  that  the  victim  would  turn  suddenly  and  get 
it.  This  did  not  happen,  however;  Talbot  dropped 
his  impersonation  with  lightning  swiftness.  Be- 
sides, Ann  said  to  herself  suddenly,  without  his 
glasses  the  old  man  was  almost  blind.  In  the  end 
she  laughed  noiselessly  with  the  rest.  At  the  same 
time,  the  incident  left  an  uncomfortable  stain  in  her 
mind.  The  morning  was  half  over  before  she  com- 
pletely forgot  it. 

But  what  followed  would  have  wiped  out  an  inci- 
dent far  more  unpleasant:  a  long  crisp  walk  over 
the  sparkling  sand,  dinner  in  a  far-away  hotel,  the 
dining-room  of  which  overlooked  the  sea  from  a 
high  crag  of  rock;  the  invasion  later  of  all  the  beach 
attractions,  fortune-tellers,  skating-rinks,  roller- 
coasters,  photographers,  and  shooting-galleries,  the 
varied  and  manifold  delights  of  Paradise  Park. 
These  events  were  interspersed  with  popcorn,  pea- 
nuts, candy,  soda,  and  hot-dogs.  Ann  had  never 
seen  so  much  money  spent  in  her  life.  Last  of  all 
came  the  reembarkation,  a  supper  on  the  water 
which  seemed  to  be  accompanied  from  beginning  to 
end  with  fusillades  of  champagne-corks. 

Afterwards,  the  party  divided  up  into  pairs.  Tal- 
bot took  Ann  to  the  bow  to  watch  the  dividing 
waters.  They  talked  for  a  long  time.  It  grew 
darker.  The  others  were  made  to  seem  very  far 
away  by  the  twilight,  by  even  the  heavy  plop  of  the 
waves  against  the  boat,  and  the  long,  sibilant  plash 
that  followed. 


160  Ann's  New  Set 

Stars  began  to  flicker  here  and  there.  The  moon 
came  up. 

"  Oh,  I'm  tired,"  Ann  said  after  a  long  while — 
and  she  sat  down  abruptly. 

Every  physical  element  in  Ann's  appearance  con- 
tradicted this  assertion.  She  had  none  of  Lainey's 
fragile  transparency.  Lainey  looked  like  alabaster, 
silver-white  straight  through.  Ann  looked  as 
though,  if  you  were  to  cut  into  her,  you  would 
strike  the  golden-yellow  of  the  plum,  the  scarlet- 
saffron  of  the  peach.  The  long  hot  day  had  ac- 
centuated all  her  colorings.  Her  cheeks  flared;  her 
eyes  blazed;  her  lips  seemed  to  engage  her  teeth  in 
a  dance  of  rose  madder  with  pearl. 

Jimmie  Talbot  looked  at  her  critically.  "  You 
don't  look  it,"  he  said,  "  although  you've  got  a 
license.  But  I'll  fix  you  up."  Suddenly,  as  by  a  feat 
of  legerdemain,  he  pulled  a  slender  green  bottle 
from  one  pocket,  extracted  two  glasses  from  the 
other.  The  bottle  was  white-labeled,  golden- 
headed.  The  glasses  were  flare-cupped  and  long- 
stemmed.  "  Come !  Have  your  first  drink  of  the 
sparkle-stuff  with  me.     It  will  set  you  up." 

11  Yes,"  said  Ann  with  sudden  resolution,  "  I 
will."  Talbot's  capable  fingers  were  already  insert- 
ing a  corkscrew.  There  came  a  mimic  explosion,  the 
rush  into  the  glass  of  a  fluid,  faintly  golden,  vio- 
lently creamy.  "  I'd  like  to  know  what  I'm  waiting 
for,"  Ann  said  scornfully,  "  putting  off  tasting 
champagne." 

"  That's  my  idea  of  nothing  to  put  off,"  said  Tal- 
bot. He  handed  her  the  glass.  The  boat  slapped 
a  little  of  its  iridescence  on  Ann's  hand;  it  seemed 
to  her  that  her  flesh  tingled.     "  May  this  be  the 


Ann's  New  Set  fi6i 

first  of  many,  Ann,"  said  Jimmie  Talbot.  They 
both  drank,  Talbot  slowly,  Ann,  in  the  spirit  of 
amateur  bravado,  at  a  single  draught.  He  filled 
her  glass  again;  she  drank  that  quickly  too. 

"  Now,"  she  said  to  herself  triumphant  but  trepid, 
"  if  I  see  double  and  begin  to  stutter,  I  hope  I  have 
the  sense  to  keep  still  about  it." 

But  she  did  not  stutter;  for  she  had  no  more  in- 
clination to  talk  than  at  a  wonderful  drama.  And 
she  did  not  see  double;  she  saw  everything  with  a 
miraculous  clarity  as  in  strange  dreams  she  had  ex- 
perienced. She  gazed  sometimes  at  the  moon  which 
seemed  gradually  to  come  nearer  and  to  swell  to  a 
spherical  roundness.  It  inlaid  everything  with  a 
luminous  green  enamel.  She  had  a  feeling  that  if 
she  put  her  hand  out,  she  could  touch  it.  She  looked 
off  on  the  water  which  gradually  stiffened  to  the 
consistency  of  a  fabric,  heavily  embroidered  with 
sparkling  bullion.  It  seemed  to  scrape  the  side  of 
the  yacht.  She  had  a  feeling  that  she  would  like  to 
get  out  and  walk  on  that  heaving  solid  surface. 
Mr.  Talbot  did  a  great  deal  of  feverish  ejaculatory 
talking,  Ann  a  great  deal  of  dreamy  moveless  listen- 
ing. Sometimes  she  lost  track  of  what  he  was  say- 
ing; it  seemed  to  merge  with  the  green  luster  of  that 
spheroid  moon  or  the  silvery  contours  of  that  sub- 
stantial sea.  And  then  sometimes  what  he  said  came 
shouted  to  her  ear. 

14 but  everybody  says  she  leads  him  a  deuce  of 

a  life — I  know  myself  how  kind  Carleton's  been — 
I've  been  to  their  house  too  many  times — he's  a 
wonder — if  there  ever  was  a  prince  of  good  fellows 
— so  generous — everybody — perfect  host — chari- 
table— number  of  people  he  carries  along — wouldn't 


1 62  Ann's  New  Set 

believe  it — something  same  situation  with  my  own 
wife " 

So  Mr.  Talbot  was  married.  For  an  instant  that 
seemed  hideous.  But  in  a  moment  Ann  had  a  more 
terrible  sensation — that  she  had  caught  herself 
peeking  through  a  keyhole.  But  it  merged  finally 
with  the  shine  of  an  emerald  moon  on  an  argent 
sea.    The  moon  began  to  flatten  and  the  sea  to  melt. 

11 — never    has    understood    me — not    been    hus 
band  and  wife  for  five  years — her  way  and  I  go 
mine — my  kind  of  people  and   I  hate   hers — if 
wasn't  for  the  children,  I'd  get  out  to-morrow." 

So  Mr.  Talbot  had  children.  This  fact,  hate- 
fully alien,  also  suddenly  melted  into  the  silver 
mesh  of  sea  that  had  caught  a  bobbing  green  moon 
in  its  web. 

And  so  on  and  on.     Gradually  the  moon  grew 
flatter  and  flatter,  and  whiter  and  whiter,  until  it  wa 
only  silver  moon.     Gradually  the  sea  grew  thinner 
and  thinner,  and  duller  and  duller,  until  it  was  only 
gray  water.    Wharves  slid  into  view. 

Ann  stirred  and  sat  upright.  "  I  feel  as  though 
I'd  been  asleep,"  she  said  gaily. 

Talbot  stirred  too,  and  his  movement  sent  the 
empty  bottle  rolling.  "  Oh,  I  forgot,"  he  said,  as 
though  that  reminded  him  of  something.  His  hand 
went  to  an  inside  pocket.  It  pulled  out  a  pair  of 
spectacles,  of  blue-glass,  rectangular  in  shape, 
quadruple,  hinged.  "  I  swiped  them  when  that  old 
geezer  wasn't  looking."  He  leaped  to  his  feet, 
slipped  them  on  his  eyes.  Suddenly  he  was  an  old, 
bent,  stumbling,  shambling  figure,  serving  an 
imaginary  table. 

Ann  watched — frozen. 


I 


Ann's  New  Set  163 

11  Give  them  to  me,"  she  commanded  suddenly. 
And  Talbot,  smiling  an  assent,  whipped  the  glasses 
off  his  eyes,  presented  them  to  her  with  a  low  bow. 

Ed,  fresh  from  his  trip,  bronzed,  clear-eyed,  was 
striding  up  and  down  the  living-room.  "  Why, 
Lainey,"  he  was  saying,  "  they're  the  worst  crowd 
Ann  could  possibly  run  with.  I  should  think  Mrs. 
Damon  was  crazy — Nobody  but  a  high-brow  could 
possibly  have — Carleton's  a  decent  enough  fellow, 
but  he's  been  putting  up  for  Mrs.  Peabody  for 
years.  Jimmie  Talbot's  a  regular  rounder.  He's 
pickled  all  the  time.  And  when  he's  lit  up,  he  gos- 
sips like  an  old  woman.  Peabody's  a  cold-blooded 
old  reptile  who's  not  earned  his  salt  for  ten  years. 
As  for  Rae  Leigh  and  Bernice  Berringer,  the  least 
said  about  them,  the  better." 

Lainey  looked  interested  in  these  disclosures,  but 
not  shocked.     "  You'd  better  tell  Ann  this." 

11  I'll  tell  her,  all  right,"  Ed  said  grimly.  "  Beckie 
forwarded  your  letters.  Fortunately,  I  did  not  get 
them  until  I  was  sailing  home.  You  can  fancy  what 
a  stew  my  trip  would  have  been  if  they'd  come  be- 
fore.    As  it  was — What  time  is  it?  " 

"  Twelve,"  Lainey  answered,  as  Ed  scooped  out 
his  watch. 

"  They  ought  to  have  been  back  long  before  this," 
Ed  said.  "  And  after  a  day  on  the  water,  I  should 
think  they'd  be  too  tired  to  go  anywhere  else.  I 
can't  imagine " 

It  was  in  fact  two  o'clock  before  Ann  arrived. 

"  You  needn't  tell  me  anything,  Ed,"  she  said  as 
she  kissed  her  brother.  "  I've  had  a  long  talk  with 
Commodore  Carleton  and  he's  done  it  much  more 


164  Ann's  New  Set 

beautifully  than  you  ever  could.  He's  the  most 
wonderful  man  I — although,"  she  added,  as  one 
being  honest  with  herself,  "  I'd  guessed  a  lot  of  it. 
I'm  through  with  those  people — but  not  for  the  rea- 
sons you  think.  I'm  late  because — after  we'd  taken 
everybody  home,  I  asked  Commodore  Carleton  to 
drive  me  back  to  Nantasket  in  his  machine.  There 
was  something  I  had  to  do  at  once,  because  I  could 
not  have  closed  my  eyes  until  it  was  done.  He  un- 
derstood."    She  glided  smoothly  up  the  stairs. 

"  Lainey,"  Ed  exclaimed  in  exasperation,  "  I  don't 
see  how  you  could  have  been  so  blind." 

"  I  wasn't  blind,  Ed,"  Lainey  answered.  "  I  got 
it  all.  Not  quite  in  the  detail  that  you  have  given 
it — but  as  an  atmosphere  and  an  influence." 

14  Then,  why  in  God's  name "  Ed  began.    But 

he  did  not  finish.  Despite  their  temperamental  and 
intellectual  differences,  Ed  and  Lainey  never  had  in 
conversation  to  finish  their  sentences. 

11  I'll  tell  you  why,  Ed,"  Lainey  answered  the 
question  that  had  not  been  put.  '*  You  see  things 
are  different  nowadays.  They  don't  bring  girls  up 
the  old  way  any  more — sheltering  them  from  ex- 
perience and  making  them  incapable  of  grappling 
with  life  when  it  offers  a  real  problem.  Ann  is  a 
very  pretty  girl;  she's  discontented,  audacious,  pleas- 
ure-loving and  luxury-loving.  She's  yearned  for 
such  experiences  as  these,  and  it's  her  right  to  have 
them — in  order  to  find  out — I'm  glad  she's  had 
them." 

"  Oh,  Lainey,"  Ed  sat  down  heavily,  as  though 
a  long  tension  had  snapped,  "  you  don't  know  what 
might  have  happened." 

44 1  know  what  couldn't  happen,"  Lainey  said, 


Ann's  New  Set  165 

11  for  I  know  Ann.  But  whatever  occurred,  it's 
Ann's  business — not  ours." 

At  the  same  time,  "What  changed  you,  Ann?" 
Lainey  asked  the  moment  she  was  alone  with  her 
sister. 

11  Well,  I'll  tell  you,  Lainey,"  Ann  answered.  "  I 
still  prefer  smart  people  who  know  how  to  do  things 
— and  spenders — and  I  still  don't  care  what  their 
morals  are.  But  I've  discovered  one  thing  that  I 
didn't  know  about  myself  before — I  guess  I  like 
them  to  be  kind." 


CHAPTER  VIII 
LAINEY  AND  THE  ETERNAL  MASCULINE 

"TT7HAT  do  you  suppose  I  heard  to-day?  " 

W  Ann  Ollivant  demanded.  She  suspended 
her  pen  over  the  ink-bottle,  a  golden  star  of  mischief 
dancing  in  each  eye,  and  gazed  at  the  quiet  family 
group. 

11  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  Lainey  answered  for 
them  all,  "  and  I  never  shall  guess.     Tell  us  quick." 

"  That's  right — you  never  will  guess,"  agreed 
Ann.  "  You  could  have  knocked  me  down  with  a 
feather." 

"  Oh,  do  tell  us,  Ann,"  Beckie  entreated,  inter- 
rupting her  count  and  putting  her  lace  down. 

"  That  isn't  all,"  Ann  went  on  tantalizingly,  bend- 
ing again  to  her  writing.  "  I've  got  another  piece 
of  gossip  that  will  make  your  hair  curl." 

"  Oh,  quit  your  stalling,  Ann!"  Ed  commanded 
over  the  top  of  his  book. 

"Rubber!"  Ann  gibed. 

11  Come  across!"  Matt  reinforced  his  brothei 
from  the  other  room. 

"  Rubber!  "  Ann  gibed  again.  "  Wait  just  one 
jiff  till  I  copy  the  T's."  She  bent  over  a  new  ad- 
dress-book of  a  brilliant  scarlet  morocco,  to  which, 
from  an  old  blank-book,  she  was  transferring  data. 

For  a  moment,  there  was  no  sound  in  the  rooi 
but  the  scratching  of  Ann's  pen  and  the  fall  of  the 
coals  in  the  grate.     In  one  island  of  light  made  b] 

166 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     167 

the  big  student-lamp,  Matt  and  Roly  hung  wordless, 
almost  breathless,  over  the  chess-board.  In  another 
oasis  of  gold,  cast  by  the  Japanese  lamp,  Beckie 
resumed  her  smocking  and  Ed  his  reading.  Out- 
side the  storm  was  besieging  them  with  wet  and 
clamor;  the  rain  attacked  the  windows  in  sheets  and 
jets;  a  high  wind  curled  with  the  roar  of  a  flame 
about  the  house,  buffeted  it,  rocked  it.  In  the 
pauses  the  woodbine  tapped  at  the  windows  with  its 
bony  old  fingers,  rubbed  against  the  casements, 
squeaked  on  the  clapboards. 

"  This  will  take  all  the  leaves  off  the  vine,"  Lainey 
said  dreamily.  "  I'm  sorry.  Yesterday  in  the  sun- 
shine they  looked  as  though  they'd  been  dipped  in 
wine." 

Lainey  had  just  shampooed  her  hair  and  was 
drying  it  at  the  fire.  She  knelt  on  the  hearth,  her 
face  to  the  flame,  her  hair  falling  over  it  in  a  cas- 
cade of  molten  pale-gold.  Wherever  the  firelight 
touched  this  cascade,  it  also  turned  to  liquid,  oozing 
red  through  the  pale-gold  mesh  and  spreading  out  in 
great  splashes.  Now  and  then  Lainey  seized  hand- 
fuls  of  hair  and  worried  them  perfunctorily. 

"  Please  hurry,  Ann!"  Lainey's  voice  came, 
muffled,  through  the  cascade.  "  I  do  love  gossip. 
It's  so  exciting." 

Ann  laughed  triumphantly.  "  The  first  is  about 
Edna  Williamson,"  she  began  after  a  while.  "  She 
has  just  announced  her  engagement  to  Max  Elton." 

"Max!"  said  Beckie,  and  "Edna!"  said  Ed. 
Their  exclamations  were  simultaneous  and  their  em- 
phases were  the  same.  "  Well,  I've  been  expecting 
it,"  came  from  Lainey,  and,  "  I  thought  it  was 
Miriam  Max  was  after,"  came  from  Matt. 


168     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 

11  I'd  like  to  know  how  you  could  expect  it,  Lainey 
Ollivant,  when  it's  been  such  a  surprise  to  everybody 
else,"  Ann  answered  her  sister*  "  So  did  Miriam," 
she  answered  her  brother.  "  That's  what  makes  it 
gossip.  Of  course,  the  two  girls  living  in  the  same 
apartment  like  that;  and  Max,  being  in  the  apartment 
above,  he  saw  just  as  much  of  one  as  of  the  other. 
Miriam  thought  he  was  calling  on  her.  But  he 
wasn't.  She's  all  broken  up  over  it;  and  they  say 
she's  been  an  awful  cat  to  poor  Edna  ever  since." 

"  That's  the  mistake  girls  are  always  making," 
Ed  commented,  "  assuming  that  a  man  wants  to 
marry  them  because  he  calls  on  them  twice  in  suc- 
cession." 

"  Sure  !  "  Matt  agreed.  "  They're  forever  doing 
that.  It  keeps  a  fellow  from  calling  a  whole  lot 
of  places  that  he'd  be  going  to  all  the  time,  other- 
wise. Check!  I've  got  you  sewed  up  there  all 
right,  Roly-Poly  Pudding-and-Pie.  Why,  Tom  La- 
throp  was  telling  me  only  the  other  day  that  he 
started  to  call  on  a  bunch  of  girls  that  he  liked  an 
awful  lot.  He  was  having  a  good  time  too.  But 
the  first  thing  he  knew,  the  others  kept  leaving  him 
alone  with  the  oldest  one.  He  hadn't  any  matri- 
monial intentions;  so  he  beat  it  while  the  going  was 
good.  He  says  he'd  been  engaged  if  he  hadn't. 
But  oh,  the  frost  he  gets  whenever  he  meets  any  oi 
them." 

Serves    him    right!"    Roly    said    with    scorn. 

Fusser!     Calling  on  girls  all  the  time.     I  wish 
the  skirt  had  nailed  him.     I  wouldn't  have  had  any 
pity    for   him.      Check!     Who's    looney   now? 
guess  I've  got  you  on  the  run,  Matthew-Mark-Luke- 
and  John." 


u 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     169 

"What's  the  other  gossip,  Ann?  "  Ed  demanded. 

"  Rubber!  "  Ann  gibed  for  the* third  time.  The 
mischief  in  her  eyes  seemed  to  liquefy,  to  splash  over 
and  run  down  to  her  brilliant  lips.  "  Men  are  the 
fiercest  gossips  ever!     Wait  till  I  finish  the  W's." 

"  You're  quite  right,  Ann,"  came,  muffled,  from 
the  sage  Lainey.  "  Men  are  responsible  for  just 
as  much  gossip  as  women."  Her  hair  was  almost 
dry  now,  but  she  continued  to  shake  the  straight, 
glinty  masses  over  the  fender. 

There  came  another  pause,  in  which  the  wind 
drove  to  shrill  crescendo  and  the  rain  beat  to  noisy 
climax.  Ann  bent  again  to  the  scarlet  address-book. 
Roly's  black  head — the  lamplight  made  purple  run- 
nels through  its  swart  thatch — dipped  close  over  the 
board.  With  mingled  anger  and  dismay  he  attacked 
his  problem.  Matt's  tawny  head — the  firelight 
turned  its  curling  crest  to  carved  copper — was 
thrown  back.  With  mingled  triumph  and  amuse- 
ment, he  watched  his  brother.  But  Ed  did  not  re- 
sume his  reading,  nor  Beckie  her  crocheting. 

"  Oh  come  on,  Ann !  "  Ed  urged  finally. 

"  Come  through!  "  Matt  called. 

Ann  laughed  another  tantalizing  laugh.  u  Well," 
she  began  importantly,  "  there's  been  an  awful  break 
between  Babe  Davis  and  Sidney  Warren.  It  seems 
that  Babe,  somehow,  got  it  into  her  head  that  he  was 
crazy  about  Jane  Forrester.  When  he  proposed, 
Babe  was  utterly  dumfounded.  She  refused  him 
and  Sid  got  mad  and  he  accused  her  of  encouraging 
him.  Now  they're  not  speaking.  Lucky  escape 
for  her,  I  say.  For  Sid's  turned  out  to  be  an  awful 
cad.  He's  going  round  knocking  Babe  to  every- 
body." 


170     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 

"  Well,  Babe  certainly  let  him  spend  a  lot  of 
money  on  her,"  Ed  pronounced  judicially. 

"  Yes.  but  he  included  Jane  in  all  his  parties,"  Ann 
explained,  "  and  Jane  is  such  a  heart-smasher.  And 
Babe  isn't  especially  quick  in  the  head,  you  know." 

With  an  abrupt  movement,  Lainey  turned  about 
and  sat  cross-legged  on  the  hearth,  her  face  towards 
her  family.  She  threw  her  hair  back.  It  fell  to  the 
floor  and  made  there  a  little  basket  of  turned-up 
ends.  Her  faint  film  of  halo  began  to  rise  above  her 
brow.  Her  figure  was  straight  with  decision,  but 
her  voice  was  soft  with  perplexity.  "  What  I  would 
like  to  know — what  I  can't  see — what  I  don't 
understand — how  is  a  girl  to  know  when  a  man 
is  calling  on  her,  whether  he's  in  love  with  her  or 
not?" 

"  What  a  question,"  commented  Beckie,  smock- 
ing wildly.  "  You  can  always  tell.  There's  some- 
thing inside  you  that  makes  you  realize.  It's  intui- 
tion." 

"  Nothing  inside  me  ever  makes  me  realize  how 
people  feel  towards  me,"  Lainey  said  with  decision. 
"  I've  occasionally  had  intuitions,  of  course,  but  they 
were  just  as  likely  to  turn  out  to  be  unreliable.  In 
fact,  when  I  trust  them,  they're  always  wrong." 

"  That's  because  you're  such  an  absent-minded 
thing,  Lainey,"  Ann  explained  pityingly.  "  You 
see,  you  don't  give  your  intuitions  a  chance." 

11  You  must  be  a  very  queer  girl,  Lainey,"  Beckie 
said  vigorously.  "  Why,  I  always  go  by  my  intui- 
tions. I've  never  made  a  mistake  yet.  And  if  I 
don't  stick  to  my  first  impressions  of  people,  I  al- 
ways regret  it.  Now,  take  that  Mrs.  Dalton — if 
I'd  only  trusted  the  way  I  felt  about  her,  the  first 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     171 

time  I  looked  at  her !  The  moment  I  saw  how  near 
together  her  eyes  were,  I  told  you " 

"  How  about  the  time  you  gave  that  Armenian 
pedler  five  dollars  to  get  educated  on,"  Roland  asked 
in  the  tone  of  scientific  investigation,  "  and  he 
swiped  the  hall-rug  on  his  way  out?  " 

"  That  was  different,"  Beckie  said  stiffly.  "  I'm 
not  referring  to  things  like  that.  Anybody  might 
have  made  that  mistake.  I  mean  intuitions  in  re- 
gard to  people  you'd  be  likely  to  know — not  for- 
eigners." 

"  Well,  if  a  girl  hasn't  any  more  intuition  than 
I  have,"  Lainey  sighed,  a  little  waxen  wrinkle  coming 
between  her  brows,  u  I  still  don't  see  how  she's 
ever  going  to  tell  when  a  man's  in  love  with  her — 
or  what's  more  important,  when  he  isn't." 

44  You're  not  supposed  to  think  of  it,  Lainey," 
Ann  said  with  impatience.  "  It's  very — very — un- 
womanly. You're  not  supposed  to  have  ideas  that 
a  man  wants  to  marry  you." 

11  But  I  couldn't  help  thinking  of  it,"  Lainey  per- 
sisted with  her  gentle  obstinacy.  "  I  couldn't  help 
having  ideas." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  you,  then,"  Ann  said  in 
a  relentless  voice.  "  But  you  oughtn't  to,  just  the 
same.  You're  supposed  to  drift  along,  paying  no 
attention  to  what  he  says  or  does,  letting  things 
take  a  natural  course." 

14  And  then  when  he  proposes,"  an  injection  of 
scorn  froze  the  perplexity  in  Lainey's  tone,  "  you 
permit  yourself  to  wake  up  to  the  fact  that  you've 
been  in  love  with  him  all  the  time." 

14  Yes,"  said  Ann. 

44  Yes,"  said  Beckie. 


172     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 


. 


Lainey  stared  at  her  sisters,  a  thousand  tiny  in- 
dignations blazing  in  her  face.  "  But — but — 
but " — apparently  she  staggered  mentally  as 
well  as  orally — "  suppose  he  shouldn't  propose 
at  all?" 

"  You  still  would  take  no  notice  of  anything," 
Ann  informed  her. 

"  That's  one  of  the  legitimate  risks  of  the  game," 
supplemented  Ed. 

"  But — but "     Again,    mentally    and    orally, 

Lainey  staggered  to  silence.  "  Suppose,"  she  took 
it  up  with  an  onrush  of  spirit,  "  suppose,  by  and  by, 
you  wake  up  to  the  fact  that,  by  some  awful  fatality, 
you  are  in  love  with  him  and  he  has  no  intention 
of  proposing  to  you,  what  do  you  do  then?  "  She 
fixed  her  deep,  blue-lighted  gaze  on  Ann. 

11  He'd  propose,"  Beckie  thrust  in  grimly,  "  if 
you  knew  your  business." 

"  Anyway,  Lainey,"  Roland  called  from  the  other 
room,  "  I'd  knock  his  block  off  for  you." 

u  Not  if  I  was  around,"  Matt  said.  "  The  thing 
to  do  is  to  let  a  man  feel  free." 

Lainey's  narrowed  questioning,  shimmering  gaze 
still  held  Ann's  wide,  confident  blazing  look. 

Ann  answered  when  the  others  stopped.  "  You 
do  nothing,"  she  said  cuttingly,  "  if  you  are  a  lady." 

Lainey  meditated,  a  tiny-boned,  helpless-looking, 
bird-claw  of  a  hand  on  each  knee.  Her  released 
hair  slid  in  flat  straight  masses  forward  over  her 
shoulders,  diminishing  her  face  until  it  was  almost 
lost  in  shadow. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  she  said  finally  with  a  sigh, 
11  it's  an  awful  job  being  a  lady." 

"  I  don't  find  it  so,"  Ann  stated  superbly. 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     173 

11  You!  "  Roland  exploded.  "  Who  ever  told  you, 
you  were  a  lady?  " 

Ann  was  still  superb  enough  not  to  answer. 

11  Fortunately  for  me,"  Lainey  decided,  "  I  don't 
have  to  bother  about  this  question,  anyway.  Not 
being  the  kind  of  girl  that  attracts  men —  Besides, 
I  never  intend  to  marry,  anyway." 

"  They  all  say  that,  Lainey,"  Ed  and  Matt  in- 
formed her  in  chorus. 

"  Well,  it  would  be  a  good  principle  to  stick  to," 
growled  Roly.     M  I  wish  all  girls  had  that  idea." 

"  But  I  should  think  for  a  girl  like  you,  Ann," 
Lainey  continued,  ignoring  Roland,  "  that  all  men 
find  attractive,  it  would  be  very  puzzling.  How- 
ever, the  thing  to  do,  of  course,  is  to  assume  that  no 
man  wants  to  marry  you  until  he  makes  a  deposition 
to  that  effect  before  a  justice  of  the  peace." 

"  Lainey,  I  think  that's  the  most  immodest — and 
unlady-like — and  mercenary  remark  I  ever  listened 
to,"  came  in  bursts  of  shocked  phrases  from  Beckie. 

"  Well,  all  I've  got  to  say,"  began  Ann,  "  is " 

The  long  strident  peal  of  the  door-bell  inter- 
rupted. 

"  Good  Lord,  who  can  that  be  this  stormy 
night?  "  Ann  concluded. 

"Oh,  my  stars!"  Lainey  started  with  a  horri- 
fied vigor,  "  and  garters !  "  she  ended  in  feeble  dis- 
may. 

"  Lainey  Ollivant,"  Ann  demanded  sternly,  "  who 
have  you  invited  here?  " 

11  Some  young  men  that  Bird  and  I  met  at  the 
local,"  Lainey  answered  meekly,  "  some  Socialists. 
And  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it.  My  goodness! 
I'll  never  pass  a  general  invitation  again  as  long 


fi74     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 

as  I  live.     They  always  come  at  the  worst  possible 


"  Stand  up!  "  Ann  commanded  inflexibly. 

Obedient,  Lainey  stood  up,  slim  as  a  paper-doll 
in  the  long,  sage-green  Chinese  sa'am — an  heirloom 
which  she  had  resurrected  from  the  attic.  Her  hair 
fell  in  straight,  arrow-like  strands,  palely  gold  to 
her  waist;  her  house-slippers  pointed  in  red  V's  from 
beneath  her  narrow  coat. 

"  No,  you're  not  going  upstairs,"  Ann  hissed 
swiftly.  "  I'm  not  going  to  entertain  a  group  of  high- 
brows when  you  haven't  given  me  a  moment  to  think 
of  something  to  talk  about.     Roll  up  your  hair !  " 

Obedient,  Lainey  bulked  her  hair  in  her  neck, 
skewered  it  together;  pegged  it  down. 

"Put  on  your  cap!"  continued  the  unyielding 
voice. 

Obedient,  Lainey  put  on  the  cap.  From  under 
the  lace  ruffle,  the  hair  fell  on  her  forehead,  a  fine 
golden  fringe  like  spun-glass. 

"  Now  open  the  door!  " 

Obedient,  Lainey  opened  the  door.  In  another 
moment,  she  was  performing  prodigies  of  confused 
introductions. 

The  three  young  men,  thus  suddenly  thrown  into 
the  Ollivant  circle,  were  contrasted  types.  Opinions 
differed  widely  in  regard  to  them. 

Mr.  Quentin  Quigly  had  just  come  from  Paris, 
via  New  York.  He  was  a  magazine  writer  and  he 
was  collecting  material  for  an  article  entitled,  "  How 
Shall  We  Wake  Up  Boston?  "  He  was  the  oldest 
of  the  three,  a  young  man  of  a  romantic  aspect. 
He  was  big-featured  and  fine-featured.     He  had  a 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     175 

plumpish  look,  as  though  he  had  been  modeled  with 
a  bold  incisiveness  in  wax  and  then  allowed  to  melt 
a  little.  His  brown  eyes  were  full,  expressive,  and  a 
little  languid.  His  brown  hair  was  thin,  wavy,  and 
a  little  long.  He  wore  brown  corduroy  trousers,  a 
loose  blouse,  a  flowing  tie,  and  a  Stetson  hat.  Beckie 
said  that  he  was  as  handsome  "  as  a  Greek  god." 
Ann  remarked  that  he  had  red  eyelids.  Roland 
observed  that  he  was  a  fathead.  Lainey  said  noth- 
ing. 

Mr.  Worthington  Pope  had  come  straight  from 
Millers  Falls,  Vermont,  to  Boston.  He  was  a  re- 
porter on  the  Chronicle.  He  was  not  so  tall  as 
Mr.  Quigly,  but  he  bulked  bigger  and  he  seemed 
to  be  cast  in  iron.  His  eyes  were  like  wells  of  black 
ink,  they  were  so  big  and  changeless  and  sparkless; 
and  it  was  as  though  his  hair,  brows,  and  lashes  had 
been  powdered  with  coal-dust.  His  skin  and  teeth 
were  so  milky  that  two  great  patches  of  crimson 
on  his  cheekbones  looked  like  make-up.  His  razor 
seemed  never  to  catch  up  with  the  black  blur  of  his 
beard.  "  Looks  like  one  of  those  cowboy  heroes  in 
the  movies,"  said  Beckie.  "  If  he'd  only  shave  his 
face  more  and  his  neck  less!"  remarked  Ann. 
;'  You  ought  to  see  him  box!"  observed  Matt. 
Lainey  said  nothing. 

Hopwood  Lee — everybody  called  him  Hop  after 
that  first  evening — was  an  Oregonian  who  was  study- 
ing at  Harvard.  He  was  no  taller  than  Lainey 
and  almost  as  small-waisted.  His  shoulders  were 
enormous,  as  though  they  had  been  carved  for  a 
much  bigger  man  and  then  fitted  to  his  torso.  He 
had  small,  brilliant  gray  eyes  which  twinkled  humor- 
ously through  thick  brown  lashes;  big  teeth  which 


176     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 


;. 


glittered — humorously  too — out  of  a  wide  mouth; 
a  brown  top,  more  like  a  pelt  than  hair;  a  chin  like  a 
rock,  nothwithstanding  it  was  almost  divided  into  two 
chins  by  a  deep  cleft.  "  Looks  like  a  little  boy  play- 
ing he  was  a  man,"  said  Beckie.  "  I  hate  those  two 
gold  teeth !  M  remarked  Ann.  "  You  ought  to  see 
him  pitch  a  ball !  "  observed  Ed.  Lainey  said  noth- 
ing. 

11  Beckie,"  Lainey  said  one  Sunday  morning,  ap- 
pearing in  nightgown  and  kimono  at  her  sister's 
door,  "  may  I  get  in  bed  with  you  for  a  little 
while?" 

14  Of  course,"  Beckie  said  sleepily. 

Lainey  pitpattered  across  the  room,  threw  her 
kimono  over  the  back  of  the  bed,  ripped  off  her  little 
scuffs  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  slipped  under  the 
clothes,  snuggled. 

Beckie  watched  her. 

Lainey  had  changed  in  the  last  month.  Her 
whole  personality  had  quickened.  Her  little  slim 
figure  had  gained  a  budding  salience,  her  little  oval 
face  a  deepening  intensity.  Her  mystical  gaze  had 
widened;  sparks  flashed  and  died  in  its  blue-gray 
haze.  Her  lips  seemed  to  have  burst  into  bloom 
too ;  they  curved  up  and  away  from  each  other  like 
flower-petals.  It  was  almost  voluptuous — that  con- 
trast of  the  whiteness  and  chill  of  her  skin  with  the 
curbed,  curled  crimson  of  her  wide,  soft  mouth. 

Beckie  lay  with  her  eyes  open  for  a  while,  an  ex- 
pectant look  on  her  face.  But  nothing  came  from 
Lainey.  Beckie's  eyes  gradually  filmed;  her  lids 
fell. 

44  Beckie,"  Lainey  said  suddenly.     Her  clear  little 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     177 

voice  fell  like  a  raindrop  on  the  sleep-charged  air. 
11  Do  you  ever  think  of  marriage?  " 

Beckie's  eyes  flashed  open,  scintillated.  M  Of 
course  I  do,"  she  said.  "  All  the  time.  Or,"  she 
corrected  herself,  "  a  lot  of  the  time." 

"  I  don't,"  Lainey  admitted  in  a  crestfallen  tone, 
"  or  at  least  I  haven't  much.  In  the  past,  I  mean. 
Lately  I  have.  The  trouble  with  me  is,  I  guess,  that 
I  never  think  of  anything  until  I  have  to.  And  mar- 
riage is — so — so — strange — and — and ' ' 

Lainey  stopped.  Her  voice  faded  into  silence. 
She  sighed.  The  sigh  faded  into  silence.  Beckie 
waited.  Nothing  more  came.  Gradually  again  her 
eyes  filmed.     Her  lids  dropped. 

u  Beckie !  "  Again  Lainey  called  her  sister  back 
from  the  vestibule  of  dreams.  And  again  Lainey's 
voice  was  like  the  splash  in  the  sleep-saturated  air  of 
some  chill  liquid.  "  Do  you  feel  as  though — mar- 
riage— were  an  experience  that  you — ought  to  have. 
I  mean — do  you  feel — that  your  life  won't  be — com- 
plete— without  it?  " 

"  I  should  commit  suicide  to-morrow,"  Beckie  an- 
swered simply,  "if  I  didn't  think  I  was  going  to  get 
married  some  day.    That's  the  way  I  feel." 

11  Do  you,  Beckie?"  Lainey  said.  She  sighed; 
but  then,  as  though  all  along  she  had  been  afraid 
that  this  was  the  way  it  would  be,  she  added,  "  I 
think  Ann's  like  that,  although  perhaps  she  wouldn't 
admit  it.  Beckie,  do  you  know  I  think  there's  some- 
thing very  queer  about  me?"  Lainey's  tone  had 
become  grave,  sorrowful,  a  little  alarmed.  "  The 
thought  of  marriage  fills  me  with  a — a — a — disgust 
— yes,  that's  what  it  is — a  loathing.  I  don't  mean — - 
what  you  think  I  mean — exactly.     I  mean — Well, 


178     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 


when  I  go  out  to  see  Cousin  Edith  and  walk  up 
Edgemore  Street  between  those  two  rows  of  mar- 
ried-looking houses."  Lainey  was  suddenly  fluent, 
facile,  articulate  again.  M  You  know  what  I  mean; 
each  with  a  young  married  couple  in  it  and  perhaps 
a  baby  or  two.  And  when  I  see  the  rubber-plant 
in  the  window  and  the  iceman  at  the  back  door  and 
the  baby-carriage  on  the  piazza  and  the  baby's  wash 
on  the  line,  a  sort  of  feeling  of  disgust  comes  over 
me  that — that — well,  Beckie,  I  just  hate  it.  I  hate 
it — that's  all  there  is  to  it.  It  all  looks  so  cut-and- 
dried,  so  like  the  end  of  things.  It  looks  as  though 
you  had  accepted  a  job  and  bound  yourself  to  keep 
it  until  the  end  of  your  days;  a  job  from  which 
there'd  never  be  any  change — any  advance  in  respon- 
sibility or  increase  in  pay.  That  isn't  all,  either.  It 
looks  as  though  you'd  shut  the  door  in  the  face  of 
romance  and  locked  out  adventure,  as  though  you'd 
put  your  youth  in  a  box  in  the  attic.  And  when  I 
hear  Cousin  Edith  and  Cousin  Mark  talking  that 
married  talk  about — oh,  you  know — the  train  service 
and  don't-forget-to-order-the-coal  and  be-sure-and- 
turn-the-gas-down-in-the-hall — oh,  Beckie,  it  gives  me 
a  perfectly  horrid  sensation.    Do  you  feel  that  way  ?  " 

11  No,"  replied  Beckie  calmly.  "  I  don't  know 
what  you're  talking  about.  I  love  to  go  out  there. 
It's  my  ideal  of  a  home." 

"  Beckie,"  Lainey  said,  "  sometimes  I  hate  th( 
word  home.  But  I  guess  I'm  queer  and  different 
from  other  people." 

Beckie  attempted  no  closer  translation  of  this. 

"  Beckie,  I  want  to  ask  you  another  thing.  Woul< 
you — would  you — have  ever  thought — What  I  meai 
is,  do  you  want  to  have  children?  " 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     179 

For  a  long  moment,  Beckie  did  not  answer. 
Lainey  said  nothing.  But  the  silence  was  the  kind 
that  accumulates  each  second  in  intensity. 
11  Lainey,"  Beckie  broke  in  at  last,  u  I'm  twenty- 
eight.  And  if  by  the  time  I'm  forty  I  haven't  had  a 
baby  of  my  own,  I'm  going  to  adopt  one." 

"Oh!"  Lainey  said,  "Oh!"  Then  again, 
11  Oh !  "  There  were  three  emotions  in  those  ohs, 
surprise,  wonder,  compassion.  "  How  strange ! 
And  yet  it's  beautiful.  But,  Beckie,  I  don't  feel  that 
way.  I  feel — I  wish — I  often  think  it  would  be  so 
nice  if  babies  came  the  way  mother  told  us  they  did 
when  we  were  children — growing  out  of  water-lilies. 
Don't  you  remember  the  picture  that  used  to  hang 
in  the  nursery  of  an  opening  lily  and  a  little  duck 
of  a  baby  peeking  out  from  the  petals.  I  believed 
that  ever  so  long.  I  had  a  fight  with  Marie  Maple- 
son  when  she  told  me  the  truth.  I  thought  that  that 
picture  was  proof.  Oh,  I  think  that  would  be  nice. 
I  mean — I  don't  see  why  we  have  to  have  fathers  for 
our  babies.  I  think  they're  awfully  unnecessary. 
Now,  if  I  could  have  a  baby  all  my  own  without 
any  father,  I — oh,  I'd  love  that." 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't,"  Beckie  proclaimed  down- 
rightly.  "  I'd  like  a  husband  and  a  father  for  it. 
Who'd  support  it?" 

"  I  would — if  it  was  mine,"  Lainey  answered  with 
conviction,  "  I'd  find  a  way.     I  know  I  would." 

There  came  another  long  silence ;  so  long  that  this 
time  the  two  girls  drifted  off  to  sleep. 

"  Beckie,"  Lainey  said,  coming  into  her  sister's 
room  the  following  Sunday  morning,  "  I  want  to 
talk  with  you.     I'm  troubled." 


180     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 

"  Well,  now,"  Beckie  said,  yawning  the  sleep  out 
of  her  hazel  eyes,  "  we're  getting  to  it.  Why  didn't 
you  tell  me  last  Sunday?  What's  it  about?  Mr. 
Quigly?" 

11  Yes,  I  tried  to  tell  you,"  Lainey  said,  "  but 
somehow  I  couldn't.     No,  it's  about  Mr.  Pope." 

"  What,  about  him?  "  Beckie  snapped. 

11  You  see,  Beck,  I  don't  understand  about  such 
things — and  I  want  to  do  what's  right.  And 
you  have  so  much  intuition — and  I  haven't  any 
— I'm  a  perfect  fool.  But  it  began  two  weeks 
ago." 

"What  began?"  Beckie  demanded.  "Lainey, 
do  please  be  a  little  more  clear." 

"  Well,  two  weeks  ago,  Saturday  afternoon,  he 
asked  me  if  I'd  go  walking  with  him.  I  said  I 
would  and  did.  He  called  for  me.  After  we  left 
the  house,  he  said  that  he  wanted  to  look  at  some 
vacant  apartments  and  would  I  go  with  him.  Of 
course  I  was  willing,  and  he  showed  me  a  long  string 
of  addresses  that  he  had  got  from  real  estate  agents, 
many  of  them  in  Brookline  here.  Well,  the  long 
and  short  of  it  was  that  we  spent  the  afternoon  at 

it " 

•    "Yes,"  Beckie  said.     "Go  on!" 

"  Well,  it  didn't  happen  in  the  first  one  we  looked 
at,  but  in  the  second.  And  I  don't  know  how  I  got 
the  idea.  But  presently  I  found  that  we  were  con- 
sidering these  apartments  from  the  point  of  view 
— of  a — married  pair.  He  asked  me  all  kinds  of 
questions — and  Beckie,  I  can't  tell  you  how  queer  I 
felt  when  he  would  say,  '  Do  you  like  this,  Lainey?  ' 
or,  *  Is  this  your  idea  of  a  comfortable  apartment?  ' 
or,  *  Tell  me  what  you  think.    I  want  to  be  guided 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     181 

by  your  opinion.'  Always  accenting  the  you  and 
your!1 

"  What  did  you  say?  "  Beckie  asked. 

"  Beckie,  I  didn't  know  what  to  say.  I  didn't 
know  where  to  look.  But  I  kept  repeating  as  often 
as  I  could  without  seeming  foolish  that  I  wasn't  very 
clever  at  that  sort  of  thing,  that  I  knew  nothing  what- 
ever about  housekeeping  and  hated  it,  and  that  Ann 
was  the  one  to  go  to,  that  she  was  so  practical.  And 
so  forth — and  so  forth." 

11  What  did  he  say  to  that?  " 

11  Oh,  that  it  wasn't  Ann's  opinion  that  he  wanted 
but  mine.  Now  what — you  have  so  much  intuition, 
Beckie — what  do  you  think  he  means?" 

"  There's  only  one  interpretation  of  his  meaning, 
Lainey.  I'll  tell  you  now  what  I've  thought  all 
along — Worth  Pope  is  in  love  with  you.  I  think 
he's  shy,  though,  and  that's  his  way  of  showing  it. 
Oh,  Lainey,  can't  you  fall  in  love  with  him?  I  should 
so  love  to  have  a  wedding  in  the  family." 

11  Of  course  I  can't — you  goose!  And  yet,  some- 
how, Beckie,  I  think  you're  wrong.  I  can't  feel  that 
he " 

"  Why,  good  gracious,  Lainey,  don't  you  know 
when  a  man's  in  love  with  you?  " 

"  No.  Why  should  I  ?  No  one  was  ever  in 
love  with  me  before." 

11  But  don't  you  have  a  feeling?  Don't  you  real- 
ize that  he's  looking  at  you  when  you're  not  looking 
at  him  and  that  he  always  knows  just  what  you're 
doing,  always  listening  to  what  you're  saying,  always 
plotting  and  planning  to  get  alone  with  you?  " 

Lainey  shook  her  head  so  vigorously  that  the  bed 
shook  too.     "  No,   I've  noticed  nothing  of  those 


1 82     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 

things.  In  fact,  his  eyes  always  seem  to  have  a  far- 
off  look,  as  though  he  was  thinking  of  something  else. 
No,  the  only  thing  he  does  is  to  ask  me  to  go  to 
places  with  him.    But  so  does  Mr.  Quigly." 

11  Well,"  Beckie  said,  exasperated,  "  what  are  you 
going  to  do  about  it?  " 

11  Beckie,  what  can  I  do  about  it?  " 

"  Do  you  love  him?  Do  you  intend  to  marry 
him?     In  that  case  you  do  nothing  about  it." 

"No.  No.  Of  course  I  don't  love  him;  He 
reads  nothing  but  the  best-sellers." 

M  Then  you  should  tell  him  or  show  him  in  some 
way." 

"  Beckie,  I  can't  refuse  a  man  before  he  asks  me." 

"  Well,  all  I  know  is,  it's  your  duty  as  a  lady  to 
let  him  know  in  some  way  if  you  don't  intend  to 
accept  him." 

Lainey  groaned.  "  It's  dreadful  hard  being  a 
lady,  isn't  it  Beck?" 

"Does  Mr.  Quigly  act  that  way?"  Beckie  in- 
quired. 

"Oh  no,  I  should  say  he  didn't,"  answered  Lainey 
"  He's  a  comfort.  He's  always  telling  me  about  the 
other  girls  he  calls  on — he  must  know  reams  of 
them.  And  then  he  has  very  advanced  ideas  about 
love  and  marriage.  He  thinks  the  present  system  is 
all  wrong.  He  says  that  women  ought  to  have  the 
to  propose  marriage  just  as  much  as  a  man. 
He  ays  that  the  perplexed  conditions  of  to-day  arise 
from  wrong  economic  conditions.  He  says  tha 
when  women  have  become  economically  independent, 
the  degrading  conditions  that  surround  love  and 
marriage  will  be  done  away  with.  When  women 
have  as  much  to  offer  men,  in  the  way  of  prosperity 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     183 

and  ability  and  earning  capacity,  as  at  present  men 
have  to  offer  women,  why  then  the  wooing  and  pro- 
posing will  come  as  often  from  one  side  as  the  other. 
But  in  these  times,  in  order  to  facilitate  the  coming 
of  better  ones,  it  is  our  duty  to  indulge  as  much  as 
possible  in  a  free  companionship  with  members 
of  the  other  sex — I  mean,  friendship  without  the 
thought  of  love  and  marriage." 

"  Bosh!  "  remarked  Beckie. 

"  Beckie,"  Lainey  said,  "  he's  right  and  you're 
wrong.  He's  taking  me  to  a  meeting  in  Newton 
to-morrow  night.  Now,  I'm  going  to  let  you  finish 
your  nap." 

It  was  three  nights  later  that  Beckie,  coming  home 
late,  found  Lainey  asleep  in  her  bed.  When  Beckie 
turned  up  the  gas,  Lainey's  lids  flashed  open,  wide. 
"  Is  that  you,  Beckie?"  she  asked  drowsily. 
Drowsily,  too,  she  pulled  herself  up  to  a  sitting  posi- 
tion, fitted  a  pillow  into  her  back. 

"More  trouble?"  Beckie  asked,  her  eyes  scin- 
tillating. 

"Beckie  Ollivant,  you're  enjoying  this!"  Lainey 
reproached  her  sister.  Perhaps  she  was  enjoying  it 
herself;  for  as  she  plunged  into  her  narrative  a 
smile,  delicious  with  conscious  power,  showed  her 
little  teeth.  "  My  dear,  Mr.  Pope  called  me  up  this 
afternoon  and  asked  me  if  I'd  meet  him  in  town  and 
go  to  tea  with  him.  I  said  I  would.  I  hoped  nat 
I  might  have  an  opportunity  to  tell  him.  He  put 
the  hour  at  two.  I  thought  that  extraordinarily 
early;  but  when  I  met  him,  he  asked  me  if  I  minded 
going  about  to  some  stores  with  him.  Isaid  I  didn't 
— never  suspecting — you  know  what  an  idiot  I  am, 


184     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 

Beck.  And — it  seems — he  was  looking  at  furniture 
with  the  idea  of  fixing  up  that  apartment  and,  al- 
though he  didn't  say  it  in  so  many  words,  there  was 
always  the  insinuation  that  it  was  for  two — not 
bachelor  housekeeping  at  all." 

"  Did  he  buy  anything?  "  Beckie  asked,  hanging 
up  her  coat  and  hat. 

"  No,  he  only  looked  at  things.  But,  just  as  be- 
fore, he  would  say,  '  What  do  you  think,  Lainey?' 
or,  '  Remember,  I'm  depending  on  you! '  or,  '  Tell 
me  exactly  how  you  feel  about  it.'  " 

"  Well,  Lainey,  I  hope  you  told  him "  Beckie 

was  beginning  severely. 

11  But  Beckie,  how  could  I?  A  man  who's  made 
no  effort  to  make  love,  who  never  looks  at  me  when 
he  talks  to  me — well,  he's  got  to  give  me  more  of  an 
opening  than  that." 

"  Yes,"  Beckie  said  slowly,  beginning  to  undress, 
"  I  suppose  so.  And,  of  course,  it  isn't  as  though 
he'd  begun  to  buy  those  things.  How  about  Quigly? 
Is  he  still  talking  about  other  girls?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  Lainey  said  with  one  of  her  rare  flashes 
of  humor,  u  now  that  he's  established  an  alibi,  he 
doesn't  have  to.  Oh,  but  Beckie,  we  went  to  that 
meeting  together  way  out  in  Newton  and,  my  dear, 
what  do  you  suppose  he  did?  " 

"  What?  "  Beckie  demanded. 

"  We  were  late  and  he  took  a  taxicab  out  there." 

"  A  taxicab !  "  Beckie  exclaimed.    "  It  must  ha1 
cost  a  million  dollars." 

"  It  did,"  Lainey  said.  "  Eight  dollars  anc 
ninety  cents'.  Oh,  I  nearly  died — watching  that 
clock-thing  jumping  round.  I  told  him  if  my  hail 
turned  white,  it  would  be  his  fault.     But  he  onl] 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     185 

laughed.  I  never  saw  anybody  spend  money  like 
that.  I  told  him  so.  He  said  nobody  else  ever  had 
in  Boston.    He  hates  Boston. " 

Beckie  bristled.     "  I'd  like  to  know  what  he  thinks 

New  York  has  on  it Do  you  like  Mr.  Quigly, 

Lainey?  n 

"  I  do  and  I  don't,"  Lainey  answered  in  an  analy- 
tic voice.  "  I  like  his  ideas,  but  I'm  not  sure  yet  of 
his  character.  I  mean  his  ideas  are  very  free  and 
emancipated  and  noble,  but  I  have  a  sort  of  an  idea 
that  he  would  only  live  up  to  them  so  far  as  they 
justified  him  in  doing  unconventional  things.  I  don't 
think  that  he'd  suffer  for  a  principle.  But,  although 
I  like  Worth  Pope  better,  I'm  more  comfortable 
with  Mr.  Quigly.  There's  always  a  worry  hang- 
ing over  me  when  I'm  with  Worth.  But  I  feel 
perfectly  free  when  I'm  with  Quentin — knowing  that 
he's  not  in  love  with  me." 

14  Yes,  all  my  intuition  is  that  he  isn't.  But  don't 
let  it  bother  you  too  much,  Lainey.  Remember 
that  mother  said:  if  you  were  a  lady,  something 
would  tell  you  how  to  behave  in  every  position  in 
which  you  were  placed." 

"  Well,  I  think  some  new  situations  have  come  up 
since  mother's  time,"  Lainey  said  without  conscious 
sarcasm,  "  Oh,  Beck,  you  are  such  a  comfort 
to  me." 

The  following  Saturday  when  Beckie  came  home 
a  little  early  from  work  she  found  Lainey  a  dull, 
colorless,  crushed  heap  on  the  sofa.  Ann  was  sitting 
beside  her. 

"What's  happened?"  Beckie  inquired. 

11  Oh,  that  bounder  of  a  Quigly,"  Ann  answered 


1 86     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 

viciously.     "  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  never  trust  a  man 
with  red  eyelids. " 

"What  has  he  done?"  Beckie  asked. 

11  He's  proposed  to  her,"  Ann  answered  sternly. 

11  Proposed ! "  Beckie  said  in  bewilderment. 
"  Quentin  Quigly !  Lainey,  are  you  sure  it  was 
Quentin?  " 

Lainey  emitted  a  little  spiritless  rill  of  laughter. 
"  I'll  admit  I'm  absent-minded.  But  I'm  not  quite 
so  dopey  as  that." 

"  Well,  what's  all  this  about,  then,"  Beckie  went 
on.     "  It's  no  insult  to  propose  to  a  girl." 

"It  was  the  way  he  did  it — beast!"  sputtered 
Ann. 

"  I  refused  him,"  Lainey  explained.  "  And  he 
got  quite  offensive.  He  accused  me  of  encouraging 
him.  I  apologized  and  explained  that  I  did  not 
realize  that  his  intentions  were  matrimonial  and  he 
said  that  I  ought  to  have  known  they  were.  We 
had  quite  an  unpleasant  scene.  Ann  came  home  in 
the  midst  of  it.  She  could  not  help  hearing  it — he 
talked  so  loud." 

"  Talked! "  This  from  Ann.  u  Bellowed,  you 
mean." 

"  But  I  don't  want  the  boys  to  know  anythin 
about    it,"     Lainey    concluded     feebly.     "  There, 
there's  Ed  now." 

"  Well,  I  declare,  I  never  thought  it  was  Que 
tin,"  Beckie  said.    "  I  thought— Hullo,  Ed." 

Ed  did  not  answer  Beckie.  "  What's  all  this 
row  about  Quigly,  Lainey?"  he  demanded  sternly. 

"  How  did  you  know  about  it,  Ed?  "  Lainey  de- 
manded in  her  turn ;  and  her  voice  was  no  less  stern 
than  her  brother's. 


. 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     187 

"  I  ran  into  Quigly  before  coming  home,"  Ed 
answered.  "  I  saw  that  he  was  considerably  broken 
up  over  something  and  I  asked  him  what  the  matter 
was.  He  evaded  me  at  first,  but  I  kept  at  him. 
Who's  that?  Oh,  Matt  and  Roly.  Finally,  he 
told  me  the  whole  story  and  I  must  say — Beat  it 
you  fellows !  Oh,  hullo,  Hop !  Get  out,  all  of  you. 
Lainey  and  I  want  to  have  a  talk." 

"  No,"  said  Lainey,  "  Stay  here ! "  Silvery 
flames  fluttered  her  eyelashes;  two  flakes  of  solid 
color  burst  on  her  cheeks.  "If  Mr.  Quigly  is  tak- 
ing the  whole  world  into  his  confidence,  so  shall  I. 
The  situation  is  this,  boys:  Mr.  Quigly  proposed 
to  me  this  afternoon  and  I  refused  him.  He  has 
taken  me  about  a  good  deal,  as  you  know,  and — yes, 
spent  a  great  deal  of  money  on  me.  He  accused 
me  of  encouraging  him,  and  I  told  him  that  I  didn't 
know  that  he  meant  to — that  he  thought  of — that  he 
wanted  to  marry  me." 

Roly,  obviously  bored,  opened  Matt's  paper. 
Matt  fell  into  one  of  the  big  chairs  and  considered 
the  subject,  frowning.  Hop  Lee  took  a  silent  posi- 
tion in  front  of  the  fire. 

"  Lainey,  I  should  have  thought  you  would  have 
known  that  he  was  in  love  with  you,"  Ed  said  accus- 
ingly.    "  Think  of  how  often  he's  been  here." 

"  Why,  Ed  Ollivant,"  there  was  a  hysterical  note 
in  Lainey's  voice,  "  it  was  only  a  month  ago,  in  this 
very  room,  that  you  and  Matt  told  me  that  the  great 
mistake  girls  were  always  making  was  to  assume 
that  men  who  called  on  them  wanted  to  marry 
them." 

"  That's  true,"  Ed  said.  "  But  at  the  same  time, 
you've  got  to  show  some  common  sense.    There's 


1 88     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 


a  point  beyond  which — you  shouldn't  let  a  man 
spend  so  much  money  on  you.  Quigly  mentioned 
— not  in  any  caddish  way;  it  just  happened  to  come 
out  in  talking  about  taxis  in  Boston — that  it  cost  ten 
dollars  bringing  you  in  from  Newton  the  other 
night/; 

"  Eight-ninety — to  be  exact,"  corrected  Lainey. 
"Well,  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  got  into  this  trouble 
just  by  following  your  advice  and  assuming  that  he 
was  not  in  love  with  me  until  he  told  me  so.  Why 
couldn't  I  have  supposed  Worth  Pope  was  in  love 
with  me  ?  He's  been  taking  me  about — and  spending 
money  on  me — if  that's  any  criterion." 

"  Well,  Lainey,  I  think  he  is,"  Beckie  put  in. 

11  Well,  he  isn't,"  Lainey  said.  "  He  telephoned 
me  to-day  that  he  was  going  to  be  married  at  Christ- 
mas. He'd  got  a  letter  from  the  girl  this  morning 
saying  she  would.  He  said  one  reason  why  he  came 
out  here  so  often  was  that  I  reminded  him  of  the 
girl.  He  showed  me  her  picture  in  his  watch.  It 
looked  just  about  as  much  like  me  as  a  cat — a  little 
darling,  blonde  fairy  creature.  He  said  he  asked 
my  advice  about  flats  and  furniture  and  things  be- 
cause he  felt  that  my  taste  would  be  just  like  hers. 
At  first  she  said  that  he'd  got  to  pick  out  the  apart- 
ment and  all  the  furniture — but  he  said,  when  he 
wrote  her  that  I  was  helping  him  look  at  things,  she 
decided  she'd  rather  do  it  herself." 

Beckie  laughed.  "  I  bet  she  did.  You  made  that 
match  all  right." 

14  But,"  Lainey  went  on,  addressing  her  brothers 
she  had  not  even  heard  Beckie,  "  he  never  mentioned 
that  girl  to  me;  he  wouldn't  insult  me  by  making 
such  an  explanation.    Now,  suppose  I  had  taken  a 


„ 


en  all 


Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine     189 

his  attentions  seriously.  It  would  be  a  pretty  nowdy- 
do  now,  with  him  marrying  another  girl  in  two 
months." 

11  Well,  all  IVe  got  to  say,"  Ed  promulgated,  "  is 
that  you  acted  wisely  in  one  case  and  like  an  idiot  in 
the  other." 

"  That's  right,  Lainey,"  Matt  agreed;  "  you  can't 
be  too  careful.  You've  got  to  let  a  man  feel  free — • 
and  you  must  not  seem  to  be  working  him." 

"  Well,  Lainey,"  Roly  said,  "  I'm  glad  you  didn't 
take  Quigly — how  I'd  enjoy  punching  that  fat  head 
of  his!  Only  my  fist  would  go  through  and  come 
out  the  other  side." 

Hop  Lee  came  into  the  discussion.  "  I  wouldn't 
bother  about  Quigly.  Getting  engaged  is  the  eas- 
iest thing  he  does.  I  know  at  least  three  girls  he's 
made  love  to." 

"  Now,  I  have  a  proposition  to  put  to  you, 
Lainey,"  Hop  said  later  when  the  excitement  had 
died  down.  "  There's  a  strike  in  Beverley  and  next 
week  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  to  some  of  the 
I.  W.  W.  meetings  there.  I  think  there's  going  to 
be  some  grand  doings.  I  wish  to  announce  to  you 
in  the  presence  of  your  family  that,  whatever  my 
private  feelings  towards  you  may  be,  I  don't  consider 
that  you  are  encouraging  me  by  accompanying  me." 

11  Hop,"  Lainey  said,  after  an  interval  of  calm 
consideration,  M  I  accept  your  invitation.  And  in 
my  turn,  I  promise  you  that,  whatever  my  private 
feelings  towards  you  are  or  become,  I  shall  not  con- 
sider that  these  invitations  compromise  you  in  any 
way.  But  I've  had  one  brush  with  your  sex  and  I 
find  that  the  game  works  out  to  their  advantage 
any  way  you  play  it.     And  so,  in  the  meantime,  go- 


190     Lainey  and  the  Eternal  Masculine 

ing  to  those  I.  W.  W.  meetings  or  anywhere 
with  you,  I'll  pay  my  own  expenses,  if  you  please." 

u  Lainey"  Ann  exclaimed,  "  I  never  heard  such 
talk  in  my  life.  Do  you  think  that's  being  a 
lady?" 

11  Oh,  damn  being  a  lady!  "  said  Lainey  Ollivant. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ROLY  COMES  THROUGH 

"TS  that  you,  Ed?"  Beckie  called  and,  not  wait- 
J,  ing  for  an  answer,  she  added,   "  Come  in  a 
moment.     I — we  all  want  to  talk  with  you." 

11  All  right,"  Ed  Ollivant  answered.  He  leisurely 
removed  his  evening-hat,  deposited  it  on  a  hook. 
He  took  off  his  smart  evening-ulster,  drew  off  the 
muffler  of  gray  crocheted  silk,  folded  them  with  the 
care  a  girl  might  have  shown,  and  placed  them  on 
the  hall-settle.  He  paused  to  glance  in  the  long 
mirror  above  the  seat — glanced  critically,  though, 
and  only  as  one  who  prides  himself  on  being  cap- 
a-pie.  His  appraising  glance  might  justifiably  have 
developed  into  a  complacent  one,  for  the  picture  was 
comely.  Tall,  slim,  Ed's  grace  of  structure  ex- 
pressed itself  in  grace  of  movement,  but  it  was 
reinforced  by  a  pervading  suggestion  of  muscularity. 
Equally,  his  cold,  blonde  face  would  have  shown 
almost  too  correct  a  line  of  feature  if  it  had  not  been 
informed  by  a  look  of  power.  That  grace  and  that 
power  were  the  grace  and  power  of  steel,  nervously 
carved.  He  strolled  in  the  direction  of  his  sister's 
voice. 

It  was  not  on  Beckie  alone  that  he  came — but 
Matt  and  Ann.  The  doors  between  the  two  rooms 
were  open,  but  the  outlines  of  the  rooms  lost  them- 
selves in  gloom.  The  hanging-lamp,  however, 
dropped  a  cone  of  golden  light  on  the  bared  dining- 

X9X 


192  Roly  Comes  Through 

room  table,  on  Beckie's  tumbled  ripples  of  mahog- 
any-colored hair,  on  Ann's  careful  coils  and  curls 
and  spirals  of  gold  brown,  on  Mart's  virile  plume  of 
copper  red.  The  open-grate  fire  in  the  living-room 
— neglected — had  died  down  to  a  soft  heart  of  rose 
that  pulsated  under  ar  filigree  of  silver  ash.  But 
the  stove  in  the  dining-room — neglected  also — had 
flared  up  until  a  round  spot  of  scarlet  gleamed  on 
its  bulging  front. 

That  spot  of  angry  scarlet  seemed  to  be  the  psy- 
chological symbol  of  the  discussion ;  it  was  reflected 
in  the  three  faces  that  lifted  to  meet  Ed's. 

Upright  in  her  chair,  her  face  a  satiny  crimson, 
her  spool  revolving  rapidly  on  the  table  before  her, 
her  needles  spitting  sparks,  Beckie  crocheted — and 
crocheted  violently,  as  one  whose  fingers  are  trying 
to  keep  pace  with  her  racing  thoughts.  Opposite, 
her  cheeks  a  velvety  pink — before  her  on  the  table 
a  basin  of  water,  a  tin  of  metal  polish  and  an  array 
of  cloths — Ann  rubbed  at  something  she  held  in  her 
lap — and  rubbed  with  jabs  and  dashes  of  vigor  as 
one  who  is  emphasizing  her  own  voiceless  argument. 
Near,  sprawled  in  the  big  morris-chair,  his  eyes  a 
brilliant  blue  in  contrast  with  his  scarlet  flush,  Matt 
snapped  an  elastic  band,  sling-shot  fashion,  against 
the  arm  of  his  chair — and  snapped  it  as  one  who  ex- 
presses not  ennui,  but  mental  discomfort. 

If  Ed  got  the  atmosphere  of  unease,  his  composed 
look  gave  no  sign.  He  wheeled  a  big  chair  from  the 
bay-window,  lifted  it  over  the  seam  where  the  two 
rooms  met,  seated  himself  in  it  in  an  attitude  whose 
correct  grace  was  the  very  antithesis  of  Matt's  care- 
less relaxation.  With  the  quiet  precision  that 
marked  all  his  movements — Ed  was  a  human  em- 


Roly  Comes  Through  193 

bodiment  of  the  principle  of  efficiency — he  reached 
into  one  pocket  of  his  dinner-coat,  brought  out  a 
cigarette-case  of  gold,  superbly  monogramed, 
snapped  it  open,  removed  a  cigarette,  placed  it  be- 
tween his  lips,  dropped  the  case  back  into  his  pocket. 
Still  slowly,  he  drew  from  another  pocket  a  match- 
safe,  also  of  gold,  and  also  superbly  monogramed, 
snapped  that  open,  withdrew  a  match,  dropped  the 
box  into  his  pocket.  Then,  quickly  he  jabbed  the 
match  ablaze,  lighted  his  cigarette,  tossed  the  match 
into  the  coal-hod.  But  he  paused  to  draw  slowly  on 
his  cigarette  and  to  send  a  volley  of  smoke-rings  flut- 
tering across  the  table  before  he  spoke.  Then, 
u  Lainey  not  home  yet?  "  he  inquired  casually. 

Beckie  had  followed  this  process  with  the  fas- 
cinated look  which  always  illumined  her  eyes  when 
Ed  was  about.  Her  lips  formed  to  answer  him. 
But,  "  No,"  Ann  answered  before  her  sister  could 
speak.  And  as  though  to  hold  back  what  Beckie 
was  going  to  say,  she  plunged  Volubly  onward. 
"  She  telephoned  to-day  that  she  would  not  be  at 
home  until  Friday.  She's  having  a  fine  time  with 
Aunt  Margaret.  Oh,  say — that  reminds  me.  She 
says  that  Maddie  Perkins  brought  her  over  a  snap- 
shot that  she  took  of  mother  once — that  time  she 
came  here  for  a  week-end.  She  took  it  when  mother 
wasn't  looking — just  as  Roly  was  coming  up  the 
piazza  steps.  Lainey  says  the  expression  is  per- 
fectly lovely.  You  know  how  mother's  eyes  always 
changed  when  she  looked  at  Roly.  I  could  always 
get  mother  hopping  mad  by  saying  that  Roly  was  her 
favorite  child — but  he  was,  just  the  same.  Lainey 
says  she's  going  to  have  some  copies  made  for  us — 
enlarged." 


194  R°ty  Comes  Through 

44  Fd  like  to  see  it,"  Ed  said.  And  then,  as 
though  consciously  aiding  and  abetting  his  sister's 
game,  "What  are  you  doing,  Ann?  " 

Again  Beckie  started  to  speak.  But  again — and 
this  time  she  resorted  to  gesture — Ann,  waving  aloft 
a  bowl  of  silver  lined  with  gold,  cut  her  off.  "  Ever 
see  that  before?  "  she  challenged  her  brother  exul- 
tantly. 

44  The  silver  service !  M  Ed  exclaimed.  And  in 
his  clear,  peremptory  voice  was  a  sudden  note  of 
emotion — surprise,  pleasure,  and  a  shade — so  subtle 
and  faint  that  it  was  a  mere  shadow  of  a  shade — 
of  sadness.  44  Lord,"  he  added,  44  I'd  forgotten  all 
about  it." 

44  Wait  till  I  show  you  the  rest  of  it"  Ann  lifted 
from  the  floor  and  placed  beside  the  bowl  a  tall  ro- 
tund coffee-pot,  a  short,  squatty  teapot,  a  shorter 
squattier  sugar-bowl,  a  tall,  lithe  water-pitcher,  a 
slim,  lissome  hot-water  pot,  a  low,  plump  cream- 
pitcher — all  a-shimmer  and  a-gleam  and  a-sparkle 
with  the  soft  luster  of  old  silver  repolished. 
44  Doesn't  it  look  lovely?" 

44  Great!  "  Ed  said.  44  How  did  you  happen  to 
resurrect  it?  " 

For  the  third  time  Beckie  started  to  speak.  And 
for  the  third  time  Ann  bustled  into  narrative  ahead 
of  her.  Beckie  closed  her  lips  with  a  snap,  but  it 
was  only  to  straighten  and  tighten  them  into  a  deeper 
look  of  resolution.  44  The  funniest  way.  You  see, 
Bird  Barton  had  a  day  off.  Some  old  gink  in  the 
firm  died  the  other  day  and  the  store  was  closed 
for  the  funeral.  So  we  decided  we'd  go  shopping 
to-day.  I  met  her  in  town.  We  went  up  Park 
Street  from  the  Subway  and  Bird  happened  to  stop 


Roly  Comes  Through  195 

in  front  of  one  of  those  old-furniture  places — you 
know  what  a  shark  she  is  for  antiques — and  if  there 
in  the  window  wasn't  a  service  the  spit  of  ours, 
all  polished  up  and  looking  so  swell!  Bird  began 
to  throw  spasms  over  it,  and  I  said,  '  Oh,  come  on 
and  do  our  shopping,  Bird.  We've  got  a  service 
just  like  that!'  'Where?'  asked  Bird.  'Search 
me ! '  I  said.  '  Somewhere  in  the  attic,  I  suppose. 
I  haven't  seen  it  for  years.'  '  Well,  if  you  aren't  a 
boob,'  said  Bird,  '  and  if  your  whole  family  aren't 
boneheads.  Don't  you  know  how  valuable  that 
Sheffield  silver  is  ?  '  <  No,'  I  said.  '  Well,  I'll  show 
you,'  said  Bird.  We  went  in  and  priced  it,  and 
how  much  do  you  suppose  they  were  charging  for 
it?  Five  hundred  dollars.  Yes,  sir.  Bird  looked 
at  me  and  I  looked  at  her,  and  she  said,  '  Let's?  '  and 
I  said,  '  You're  on! '  and  we  marched  straight  back 
from  the  Subway — mind  you  we  hadn't  done  a  drop 
of  shopping — beat  it  home,  sneaked  up  into  the  attic 
and  spent  the  afternoon  hunting  for  the  service. 
Weren't  we  sights  when  we  got  through !  Bird  had 
to  take  a  bath  and  shampoo  her  hair.  But  we 
finally  found  it,  black  as  the  stove,  wrapped  up  in 
pieces  of  old  blanket.  I've  been  working  on  it  ever 
since.  My  arm  is  dead,  but  I  can't  leave  it  alone. 
Gee,  doesn't  it  look  swell.  To  tell  the  truth,  I 
always  thought  of  the  silver  service  as  something 
old-fashioned  and  queer.  But  now  I  can  see  that  it 
has  all  kinds  of  class — especially  if  it's  worth  five 
hundred  dollars.  Gee,  doesrit  it  look  swell, 
though !  "  Ann  might  have  been  applying  the  polish 
to  her  own  eyes,  they  gleamed  with  so  extraordinary 
a  luster  as  she  surveyed  her  handiwork.  "  I've  put 
my  hands  out  of  commission,  though."    She  stopped 


196  Roly  Comes  Through 

to  examine  her  long,  shapely  fingers.  "  I'll  be  a 
week  getting  my  nails  back  into  shape." 

11  I  remember,"  Matt  began.  He  had  abandoned 
his  sling-shot  operations  with  the  elastic  band.  Now 
he  sat  upright.  His  brisk  blue  eyes  took  on  a  remi- 
niscent haze.  "  Mother  always  used  the  silver 
service  and  the  pearl-handled  knives  and  forks  on 
Christmas  and  Thanksgiving.  I  always  connect 
those  two — silver  service,  pearl-handled  knives  and 
forks — with  holidays  and  company." 

The  tension  about  Beckie's  mouth  relaxed  for  a 
moment.  "  The  last  time  we  used  the  silver  service 
was  on  Roly's  tenth  birthday.  Do  you  remember 
we  had  a  party  for  him?  That  was  the  last  party 
we  ever  had  in  this  house.  After  that,  mother  put 
the  service  away.  It  was  so  hard  to  keep  it  shined 
up  without  any  maids." 

"  We're  going  to  use  it  every  day  now,"  Ann  said 
with  conviction.  "  There  are  not  going  to  be  any 
best  things  in  this  house.  We're  going  to  have  our 
coffee  in  the  morning  out  of  this  and  our  tea  at  noon 
out  of  this  and  our  cocoa  at  night  out  of  this." 
Her  hands,  gracefully  capable,  fluttered  from  pot 
to  pot.  u  And  these  are  our  permanent  sugar  and 
creamer.  We'll  use  the  bowl  for  loaf  sugar.  And 
after  this  we  are  going  to  use  those  pearl-handled 
knives  and  forks.  I  hate  saving  up  things  for  other 
people  to  use  after  you're  dead." 

"  Well,"  said  Ed,  "  I'm  glad  you  found  it.  It 
c  inly  is  a  pippin.  I  advise  you  to  overhaul  the 
at  thoroughly  some  day  and  see  if  there  aren't 
son     other  things  you  can  dig  up." 

"  Vre  going  to,"  said  Ann,  "  Bird  and  Lainey 
and     e — some  Sunday." 


Roly  Comes  Through  197 

11  Lord,  what  a  gay  house  this  used  to  be,"  Matt 
said,  the  fog  of  reminiscence  still  on  his  sea- 
blue  eyes.  "  Something  doing  every  minute.  Peo- 
ple coming  and  going — dinners — dances — masque- 
rades  " 

Ann  set  her  soft,  pouting  mouth  into  a  hard,  red 
ripple  of  determination.  "It's  going  to  be  gay 
again  some  time.    You  wait!  " 

Ed  flicked  his  cigarette  end  into  the  coal-hod, 
settled  back  in  his  chair.  "  Well,  out  with  it, 
Beckie,"  he  said.    "  What  is  it  and  who's  it  about?  M 

Beckie's  lips  unlocked  in  a  flash.  "  It's  about 
Roly,"  she  answered.  "  I'm  worried  to  death 
about  him." 

"  It  isn't  so  bad  as  it  seems,"  Ann  interpolated. 
"  I'm  sorry  that  I  told  on  him." 

"  How  about  it,  Matt?  "  Ed  turned  to  his  brother. 
"  Advise  me  to  listen  to  it?  " 

Matt  looked  uncomfortable.  "  Oh,  I  don't  know 
that  it's  so  very  serious,  but —  Well,  I  guess  you'd 
better  listen  to  Beckie." 

11  All  right,  Beckie !  "  Ed's  tone  tempered  to 
resignation.  "Fire  away!  What's  Roly  been  do- 
ing?" 

"  Oh,  everything'*  answered  the  unanalytic 
Beckie.  "  It's  been  going  on  for  weeks  and  weeks 
now.  And  at  first  I  thought  I  could  manage  him 
alone.  But  it's  got  beyond  me,  and  to-night  I  had 
— oh,  a  dreadful  time  with  him — he  said  perfectly 
awful  things.  And  as  for  Matt — he  swore  at ..^  '71 
fearfully.    So  now  you've  got  to  take  him  in  hand." 

"  Well,  get  to  the  point,  Beckie,"  Ed  prodded  his 
sister  impatiently. 

M  I'm  getting  there,"  Beckie  insisted.     M  In  the 


198  Roly  Comes  Through 

first  place,  he's  so  grouchy  all  the  time  that  there's 
no  living  with  him.  And  saucy!  And  the  things 
he  says  to  me — and  Ann — well,  they're  the  limit. 
I  could  overlook  that,  because  boys  are  queer  cattle, 
and  Roly — mother  used  to  say  that  Roly  had  '  cy- 
cles '  when  he  was  as  bad  as  he  could  be." 

14  Well,  believe  me"  Ann  interrupted  crisply, 
"  Roly's  present  cycle  is  some  cycle." 

11  But,"  Beckie  went  straight  on,  "  he's  taken  to 
staying  out  late.  Night  after  night  he  doesn't  get  in 
until  nearly  twelve  o'clock.  He  manages  to  beat  you, 
Ed,  by  about  five  minutes.  When  I  ask  him  where 
he's  been,  he  just  says,  *  Oh — out !  '  or,  '  Oh,  with 
Dink ! '  or,  *  Oh,  just  round ! '  Not  that  he's  any 
different  from  you  two.  I'd  never  think  of  asking 
either  of  you  where  you'd  been.  But  Roly's  only  a 
boy  and  he's  got  to  tell  me  where  he  goes  until  he's 

eighteen.    For  one  thing "    Having  run  down  a 

little,  Beckie  glanced  off  the  main  line  of  her  argu- 
ment. "  I  don't  think  Dink  Hardy  is  a  good  influ- 
ence for  him." 

"  I  guess  Dink's  as  good  an  influence  for  Roly 
as  Roly  is  for  him,"  Ann  put  in  scornfully.  "  Prob- 
ably Mrs.  Hardy  is  doing  her  best  this  very  minute 
to  get  Dink  to  stop  going  with  Roly." 

"Well,  I'd  like  to  hear  her  say  anything  like 
that!"  Beckie  bristled.  "Dink  Hardy  doesn't 
know  what  to  think  until  Roly  tells  him." 

"  Much  you  know  Dink,"  Ann  continued,  still 
scornful.  "  That  innocent  mild  way  he  has  is  just 
put  on  when  grown  people  are  round.  Dink  Hardy 
is  a  perfect  devil.  I  didn't  sit  in  front  of  him  in 
school  for  one  whole  year  for  nothing.  Why,  once 
he  took  every  hairpin  out  of  the  back  of  my  hair 


Roly  Comes  Through  199 

and  me  not  realizing  it.  It  took  him  nearly  a  whole 
study-hour  to  do  it — he  was  so  careful  about  it 
When  Old  Charley  suddenly  called  on  me  for  some- 
thing and  I  stood  up,  all  my  hair  came  tumbling 
down.  I  never  was  so  mortified  in  my  life.  I 
could  have  murdered  him." 

11  Well,  anyway,  I  wouldn't  have  known  what 
those  two  boys  were  doing  all  the  time,"  Beckie 
said,  "  if  Angie  Hardy  hadn't  told  me  at  church 
the  other  day.  They  bowl  and  play  pool  every 
night  of  their  lives." 

She  stopped  to  note  the  effect  of  this  appalling 
revelation  on  her  brothers.  Ed  stood  the  shock 
with  exemplary  composure.  Matt  mimicked  his 
brother's  unnatural  calm. 

"  Somebody's  got  to  put  a  stop  to  it,"  Beckie  went 
on.  "  Roly's  so  tired  mornings,  it's  all  Ann  can  do 
to  get  him  off  to  school  in  time.  He's  late  two  or 
three  times  a  week.  And  he  sleeps  all  day  long 
Saturday  and  Sunday.  First  thing  we  know  he'll  be 
down  with  a  fit  of  sickness." 

"  Not  as  long  as  he  eats  the  way  he  does,"  inter- 
posed the  clear-visioned  Ann.  "  More  likely  he'll  be 
expelled  from  school.  I  don't  believe  he  gets  any 
of  his  lessons.  He  never  studies.  I  think  that's 
what  he's  working  for — to  get  dropped.  He  hates 
school.  He  wants  to  go  to  work.  Not  that  I 
blame  him !  I  hated  school  worse  than  anything  on 
earth." 

"Well,  Roly's  got  to  keep  on  going  to  school 
until  he  graduates,"  Ed  said  curtly.  "  Where  is  he 
now?  " 

"  He  hasn't  come  in  yet,"  Beckie  said. 

Ed  pressed  open  the  slim,  plain  gold  watch  which 


200  Roly  Comes  Through 

he  slipped  from  his  pocket.  "  Quarter  to  twelve. 
I'm  early  to-night." 

11  He'll  be  here  any  moment  now,"  Beckie  prophe- 
sied. "  You  see  if  he  isn't.  He'll  try  to  beat  you, 
Ed,  by  a  few  moments." 

11  Where  does  he  get  the  money  to  bowl  and  play 
pool  with?  "  Matt  inquired. 

"  Oh,  he  does  odd  jobs,"  Ann  answered  vaguely. 
11  Aunt  Lottie  gets  him  to  do  things  for  her.  And 
some  of  the  other  neighbors  occasionally.  Then 
I  think  he  generally  wins  in  pool  and  bowling  from 
Dink.  Dink  always  has  plenty  of  spending  money, 
you  know." 

11  That  isn't  all,"  Beckie  went  on.  "  He's  got  so 
careless  about  his  personal  appearance !  He  doesn't 
brush  his  clothes  or  black  his  shoes — or  wash  his 
face,  I  was  going  to  say.  I'm  so  ashamed  of  him 
when  I  meet  him  on  the  street — he  looks  so  untidy. 
Lainey  says — There !    Here  he  comes  now." 

A  key  grated  in  the  lock  of  the  front  door.  The 
door  jarred,  swung  open. 

"  That  you,  Roly?  "  Beckie  called. 

"  Yes!  "  answered  a  sullen  voice. 

"  Come  in  here  a  moment,"  Beckie  went  on;  "  we 
want  to  speak  to  you." 

Roly  waited  to  take  his  things  off.  In  marked 
contrast  with  Ed's  leisurely  carefulness,  he  dropped 
his  creased  and  mussy  coat  in  a  heap,  threw  his 
cap  on  top  of  it.  u What  do  you  want?"  he 
growled. 

"We've  got  something  to  say  to  you,"  Beckie 
said  in  a  conciliating  voice.  "  We've  been  talking 
you  over  and  we  want  to  give  you  a  little  advice." 

Roly  seated  himself  on  the  arm  of  a  chair.     He 


Roly  Comes  Through  201 

looked  unkempt.  His  clothes  needed  pressing. 
His  linen  was  soiled.  His  shoes  were  muddy. 
His  tie  raveled  where  the  knot  came.  Whatever  his 
experience  since  he  left  his  sister  earlier  in  the  even- 
ing, it  was  apparent  that  it  had  not  wiped  away 
his  sense  of  antagonism.  The  heavy  purplish-red 
flush  on  his  handsome  dark  face  seemed  to  accent 
the  sullen  look  of  his  mouth.  His  tumbled  hair, 
falling  in  a  torrent  down  over  his  forehead,  seemed 
to  intensify  the  scowl  between  his  heavy  brows. 
Under  the  defiant  expression  lay  fatigue ;  heavy  hol- 
lows were  gouged  above  his  cheekbones,  incipient 
hollows  beneath  them.  At  Beckie's  words  the 
glare  in  his  big  hazel  eyes  concentrated  to  a  fiery 
glitter. 

"  You're  very  kind,"  he  answered  with  the  heavy 
sarcasm  of  youth,  "  but  I  don't  need  any  of  your 
old  advice.  And  if  it's  just  the  same  to  you,  you 
can  keep  it,  thank  you." 

"  Now,  Roly,"  Beckie  still  placatory,  was  begin- 
ning, when —  "  Cut  out  that  rough  stuff,  Roly," 
Ed  interrupted.  "  How  about  this  bowling  and 
pool-playing?  "  he  demanded  sharply. 

"What  do  you  mean,  'How  about  it'?"  Roly 
came  back  with  equal  sharpness. 

11  I  mean  this:  Are  you  bowling  and  playing  pool 
till  midnight  three  or  four  nights  a  week?  " 

11  No,"  Roly  answered  with  a  heavy  defiance. 
"  I'm  bowling  and  playing  pool  five  or  six  nights 
a  week — as  many  times  as  I  get  the  chance.  I'd 
like  to  know  whose  business  it  is  what  I  do?  " 

"Well,  I'll  show  you  whose  business  it  is,"  Ed 
retorted  hotly.  M  For  I'll  make  it  my  business. 
You're  to  cut  that  out.    See?  " 


202  Roly  Comes  Through 


Roly  glared  at  his  brother.  "  No,  I  don't  see," 
he  said.     "What's  more,  I  won't  cut  it  out." 

"♦  You'll  cut  it  out,"  Ed  said  threateningly,  "  or 
I'll  know  the  reason  why." 

"  You'll  know  the  reason  why,  then,"  Roly  as- 
sured him.  44  And  you'll  know  it  now.  You're  not 
my  father  or  my  mother.  They're  both  dead  and 
there's  nobody  got  any  right  to  tell  me  what  I  can 
do  or  what  I  can't  do.  And  if  you  think  you  can 
keep  me  from  going  where  I  want,  you're  welcome 
to  try  it." 

The  brothers  for  an  instant  looked  singularly 
alike.  It  was  as  though  the  same  expression  of  an 
ancestral  defiance  gleamed  through  Ed's  golden 
sculpturesque  regularity  and  Roly's  bronze-red  virile 
swarthiness. 

11  I'm  head  of  this  house,"  Ed  announced.  "  And 
I  intend  to  be  master  of  it.  I  consider  myself  your 
guardian  until  you  come  of  age.  Now,  you're  going 
to  stop  this  late-hour  business  if  Matt  and  I  have 
to  take  turns  watching  you." 

14  That's  what  you'll  have  to  do  to  stop  it,"  Roly 
prophesied.  44  I've  been  my  own  boss  ever  since 
mother  died  and  I  intend  to  keep  on  holding  the 
job." 

44  All  right.  You  try  doing  what  you  please," 
Ed  advised.  44  You  understand  you  are  to  be  in 
this  house  every  night  at  ten  o'clock.  You  are  to 
get  up  every  morning  when  Ann  calls  you  at  half- 
past  seven.  You're  not  to  be  late  to  school.  And 
you're  not — what  are  the  other  things?"  He 
turned  to  Beckie  and  Ann. 

Roly  glared  at  his  sisters.  "  Tattle-tales !  "  he 
hissed. 


Roly  Comes  Through  203 

11  Oh  yes,  Roly,"  Beckie  faltered,  "  if  you  only 
would  be  a  little  more  careful  about  your  appear- 
ance." 

"Yes,  that's  it,"  said  Ed.  "You're  to  brush 
your  clothes  every  day  and  shine  your  shoes  and 
comb  your  hair  and  put  on  a  clean  collar  and  do 
all  the  things  your  mother  taught  you  to  do." 

"  You  ought  to  think,  Roly,"  Ann  said  dulcetly, 
"  of  what  mother  used  to  say  to  you,  '  Remember 
that  you  are  a  gentleman's  son!  '  " 

Roly  set  his  teeth.  "  Well — if  you — don't  give 
me — a  pain,"  he  emitted  slowly.  "  With  me  with- 
out— "  He  stopped  abruptly,  but  he  began  again. 
"  — asking  me  to — "  He  stopped  again  and  glared 
about  at  them  all.  u — when — "  For  the  third 
time  he  stopped.  "  Oh,  go  to  hell,  the  whole  crowd 
of  you !  "  he  concluded.  He  rushed  out  of  the  room 
and  up  the  stairs.  His  door  shut  with  a  crash  that 
resounded  through  the  house. 

11  Isn't  he  the  sweet  thing? "  Ann  commented, 
rising  and  removing  the  silver  service  to  the  side- 
board. "  That  isn't  a  circumstance  to  the  way  he 
treats  me.  Golly,  doesn't  that  look  grand?  Now 
you  have  some  idea  what  I  have  to  contend  with 
mornings  getting  him  out  of  bed.  He  swears  some- 
thing awful,  and  the  things  he  says  to  me !  Doesn't 
that  make  the  rest  of  the  stuff  on  the  sideboard 
look  like  a  rummage  sale?  I'm  going  to  can  that 
tin  cake-basket  to-morrow.  There  used  to  be  a 
time  when  I  could  lick  him.  I'd  like  to  take  boxing- 
lessons  off  a  real  pugilist — so  I  could  knock  him 
down  once  or  twice." 

"That's  hardly  the  way  to  teach  him  manners, 
Ann,"  Ed  said  icily. 


204  Roly  Comes  Through 

11 1  know  it  isn't.  But  it  would  be  a  lot  of  sal 
faction  to  me,"  Ann  replied.  "  I'm  pretty  strong 
for  a  girl,  you  know."  She  pushed  up  the  sleeve 
of  her  Russian  blouse,  doubled  up  her  fist,  flexed  a 
snowy  arm,  and  contemplated  a  swelling  biceps  with 
pride.     Her  brown  eyes  flashed  stars  of  amber. 

"  Let  me  see,  to-morrow's  Saturday,"  Ed  went 
on  in  a  business-like  tone.  "  Of  course  he'll  sleep 
late,  but  I'll  see  that  he  gets  up  Monday  morning, 
Ann,  and  to-morrow  night,  Beckie,  I'll  be  home  to 
see  that  he  gets  in  at  ten.  Matt,  we'll  take  turns 
standing  guard.  You're  to  be  on  the  job  Sunday 
night.  I'll  take  Monday,  and  so  on  until  we  teach 
that  young  gentleman  that  we  mean  what  we  say." 

"All  right,"  answered  the  good-natured  Matt. 
But  he  hesitated.  It  was  obvious  that  the  job  was 
distasteful  to  him. 

"  Now,  don't  you  be  too  severe  with  Roly  to- 
night," Beckie  admonished  her  brother  anxiously 
the  next  morning.  "  You  know  mother  always  used 
to  say  that  you  couldn't  drive  him." 

11  You  leave  the  whole  matter  to  me,  Beckie,"  Ed 
replied.  "  If  I'm  going  to  stop  this  business,  I've 
got  to  do  it  in  my  own  way." 

But  Beckie  departed  to  work  with  a  face  full  of 
misgiving.  "  I  hope  Ed  won't  fight  with  Roly  to- 
night," she  said  to  Ann  on  her  return. 

Ed  did  not  fight  with  Roly  that  night.  He  had 
no  chance.  It  was  Saturday,  and  Roly  returned  to 
the  house  neither  that  day  nor  the  next. 

"Where  have  you  been  these  last  two  nights?  " 
Ed  demanded  Monday  night,  as  Roly,  with  an  ap- 
pearance of  elaborate  indifference,  seated  himself 
at  the  table. 


•Roly  Comes  Through  205 

u  I  stayed  with  Dink,"  Roly  answered  sullenly. 

11  All  right.  We'll  have  that  statement  substan- 
tiated," Ed  remarked.  He  went  to  the  telephone. 
"What's  the  Hardy's  number,  Beckie?"  he  asked. 

"  Copley,  5643,"  Beckie  answered. 

"  Copley,  5643,"  Ed  echoed  into  the  transmitter. 
14  Copley,  5643  ?  "  he  questioned  presently.  "  Oh,  is 
this  you,  Angie  ?  .  .  .  Good  evening.  .  .  .  May 
I  speak  with  your  mother?  .  .  .  Oh,  good  even- 
ing, Mrs.  Hardy.  .  .  .  This  is  Ed  Ollivant. 
Pardon  me  for  troubling  you  at  this  late  hour,  but 
did  my  younger  brother  week-end  with  you?  .  .  . 
Oh,  yes.  .  .  .1  I  see.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  Yes. 
.  .  .  That  was  very  kind  of  you.  .  .  .  I  wanted 
to  know  in  the  interest  of  a  little  problem  in  family 
discipline.  We're  going  to  break  up  these  late  hours. 
,.  .  .  You're  quite  right.  ...  I  agree  with  you 
absolutely.  Do  you  mind  helping  the  thing  along 
by  not  asking  him  again?  .  .  .  Thank  you.  You 
are  very  kind.  .  .  .  Thank  you.  ...  I  appre- 
ciate that.    .    .    .   Thank  you.     Good-night!" 

Ed  strolled  leisurely  back  to  the  table. 

The  dinner  ended  in  a  silence  unusual  with  the 
noisy  Ollivants. 

44  Where  are  you  going?  "  Ed  demanded  as  Roly 
passed  into  the  hall. 

44  Out !  "  Roly  answered  without  an  instant's  hesi- 
tation. 

44  Do  you  understand  you  are  to  be  back  by  ten?  " 

14 1  understand  I'm  to  be  back  when  I  damn 
please,"  Roly  blazed. 

44  You'll  give  me  your  promise  to  be  back  at  ten 
or  I'll  go  with  you,"  Ed  answered. 

Roly  stared  at  his  brother  for  a  baffled  second, 


2o6  Roly  Comes  Through 


in  or 


his  face  the  battleground  for  all  the  conflicting 
forces  of  futile  young  fury. 

"  I'll  be  back,"  he  admitted  sullenly  after  a  while. 

He  kept  his  word  as  Ed,  who  was  there  to  see 
that  he  did,  attested  the  next  morning.  And  he 
kept  it  the  next  night — but  in  this  fashion.  The 
easy-going  Matt  being  on  guard,  Roly  entered  the 
house  exactly  at  ten,  but  noiselessly  through  a  back 
window.  Noiselessly  he  stole  up  to  his  room.  Matt 
napped  and  waked  and  dozed  and  waked  again  on 
the  couch  until  Ed,  coming  home  at  three  in  the 
morning,  shook  him  to  consciousness.  The  brothers 
retired,  breathing  a  vengeance  which  they  reiterated 
sulphurously  at  breakfast  to  their  sisters.  In  the 
midst  of  the  meal  Roly  appeared,  calm  as  a  May 
morning.  At  the  onslaught  which  greeted  him,  he 
announced  jauntily  that  he  had  been  in  bed  ever  since 
ten  the  night  before. 

11  You  play  a  trick  like  that  on  us  again,"  Ed 
threatened,  white  with  wrath,  "  and,  by  God,  I'll 
give  you  the  damnedest  hiding  you've  ever  had  in 
your  life.  Now,  where  were  you,  and  what  were 
you  doing?  "  he  demanded. 

11  None  of  your  business,"  Roly  answered 
promptly. 

Ed  contemplated  him  for  one  instant  in  silence 
and  his  watch  for  another.  Then,  "  I'll  attend  to 
your  case  to-night,"  he  promised  in  the  silky  voice  of 
his  most  dangerous  mood. 

11  Oh,  Roly,"  Beckie  said  in  a  distressed  tone  after 
the  older  boys  had  gone,  "  what  are  you  being 
so  bad  for?  You  know  what  Ed's  like  when  he  gets 
mad." 

"  You  mind  your  own  business,"  Roly  suggested. 


Roly  Comes  Through  207 

"You  girls  got  me  into  this  with  your  tattling. 
And  now  you  can  keep  your  mouth  shut.  And  as 
for  Ed — I  guess  I  can  lick  him  if  it  comes  down  to 
cases." 

Wednesday  night  Roly  did  not  come  home  at  all, 
nor  Thursday  night.  Beckie  was  almost  sick  with 
worry,  and  even  the  unperturbed  Ann  began  to  look 
dubious.  "  Now  don't  you  girls  get  cold  feet,"  Ed 
cautioned  them.  "  I  called  up  the  school  to-day. 
They  said  that  he  had  been  there  both  days — not 
even  late.  He'll  have  to  come  home  some  time,  if 
it's  only  for  a  change  of  underwear.  I'm  going  to 
starve  him  out.     And  when  he  does  show  up M 

Friday  night  Lainey  made  an  appearance.  "  Oh, 
Lainey !  "  Ann  and  Beckie  began  at  once.  "  We've 
been  having  a  perfectly  terrible  time  with  Roly!  " 
They  poured  the  whole  story  out  on  her  haphazard, 
Ann  ruthlessly  interrupting  Beckie's  tale  and  Beckie 
as  remorselessly  tearing  the  narrative  from  Ann. 
11  And  where  do  you  suppose  he  is?  "  they  concluded 
in  unison. 

Lainey's  small,  pointed,  blonde  face  remained  ab- 
solutely unperturbed.  u  I'll  tell  you  where  he  is," 
she  answered  calmly.     "  He's  at  Cousin  Lucy's." 

11  How  did  you  know?  "  Beckie  asked. 

"  Why,  he  came  into  the  school  one  afternoon  to 
borrow  some  money  to  pay  his  fare  out  there." 

11  Did  he  say  anything  about  this  trouble?  "  Ann 
demanded. 

"  Not  a  word." 

"  Well,  I  must  say  that  was  game  of  him,"  Ann 
commented  approvingly. 

"  Roly's  been  at  Cousin  Lucy's  all  the  time," 
Beckie  began  the  instant  Ed  and  Matt  appeared 


208  Roly  Comes  Through 

that  night,    "  and   Lainey   says "     She   poured 

Lainey's  story,  second-hand,  into  their  ears,  an  illog- 
ical Beckie-esque  burst  of  narrative,  much  inter- 
rupted by  comment  and  conjecture.  Lainey  did  not 
contribute  further  data.  She  was  very 'thoughtful 
during  dinner.  Afterwards,  curled  upon  the  couch, 
in  front  of  the  fire,  in  the  faded  green  Chinese  coat 
and  the  little  red  slippers  which  were  her  costume  of 
relaxation,  she  seemed  deliberately  to  maintain  her 
quiet  mood.  Once  only  she  forced  herself  into 
vivacity. 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  show  you  that  picture  Maddie 
Perkins  took  of  mother,"  she  said,  hurrying  out  of 
the  room.  "  I'm  having  one  framed  for  Roly,"  she 
added,  returning  from  a  breathless  run  upstairs. 
But  even  through  the  subdued  comments,  "  Oh,  isn't 
that  lovely!"  "  Oh,  how  sweet  she  looks!"  from 
the  girls,  "  Gee,  that's  fine !  "  and  M  Lord,  isn't 
that  natural  1  "  from  the  boys,  Lainey  remained  pre- 
occupied. 

"What's  got  into  you,  Lainey?"  Ann  asked 
once.  "  Generally  we  can't  hear  ourselves  think 
when  you  come  home  from  anywhere,  you've  got  so 
much  to  tell  us." 

Lainey  made  no  response.  But  when  Ed  and 
Matt  arose  to  leave  for  the  inevitable  nocturnal 
adventuring,  she  said,  "Wait  a  moment,  boys;  I've 
got  something  to  say  to  you."  Her  manner  was 
peremptory,  and  suddenly  the  veil  of  her  preoccu- 
pation began  to  lift.  "  It's  about  Roly,"  she  began. 
She  paused,  punched  a  pair  of  sofa-cushions  into  a 
pliable  mass  between  her  shoulders,  leaned  back. 
"  I'd  like  to  do  some  talking  now."  Suddenly  ignor- 
ing the  cushions,  she  sat  upright,  bringing  her  slip- 


Roly  Comes  Through  209 

pered  feet  to  the  floor  in  a  tiny  stamp,  her  calm 
entirely  gone,  a  little  feminine  pillar  of  interested 
exposition. 

M  I  don't  believe  youVe  gone  about  this  matter 
in  the  right  way,"  she  said.  "  I've  been  thinking 
about  Roly  ever  since  he  came  in  to  see  me.  Not 
that  he  said,  as  I  told  you,  that  there  was  anything 
wrong  at  home  or  that  I  suspected  there  was  any 
trouble.  It  was  the  fact  that,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  he  borrowed  money  from  me  which  set  me 
to  consideringjhis  case.  Do  you  remember  mother 
used  to  say  that  although  you  always  had  to  man- 
age Roly,  it  was  easy  enough  to  do  it,  because  he 
could  always  be  led  through  his  affections." 

14  Didn't  I  tell  you  the  other  night,"  Beckie  inter- 
rupted triumphantly,  "  that  mother  said  you  never 
could  drive  him?  " 

44  Mother  had  her  own  system  of  disciplining 
him,"  Lainey  went  on.  "There  was  a  time,  I  re- 
member, before  she  was  ill.  Roly  was  only  ten, 
but  his  share  of  the  work  was  to  fill  the  wood-basket 
from  the  cellar.     He  did  something  naughty — I've 

forgotten  what  it  was — and Do  you  remember 

how  mother  punished  him?"  Lainey  addressed  her- 
self to  Ed. 

Ed  shook  his  head. 

"  She  punished  him  by  getting  the  wood  herself. 
Roly  nearly  died.  Finally,  he  came  to  her,  crying, 
and  begged  to  let  him  help  her.  Roly  is,  I  am  con- 
vinced, much  the  least  demonstrative  of  us  all,  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  I  think  he  craves  affection  more 
than  any  of  us.  And  no  wonder.  Think  how  crazy 
mother  was  about  him.  Why,  she  never  stopped 
talking  baby-talk  to  Roly.     He  remained  her  baby 


2io  Roly  Comes  Through 


to  the  last  day  of  her  death.  Do  you  remember 
when  he  first  began  to  speak,  he  called  himself 
'Doddy-Boy,  instead  of  'Roly-Boy'?  When 
mother  was  alone  with  him  she  always  called  him 
4  Doddy-Boy.*  I've  heard  her.  And  Aunt  Mar- 
garet told  me  that  she  never  referred  to  him  in  any 
other  way.  And  how  she  petted  him.  The  instant 
he'd  open  the  door  from  school  she'd  call,  4  Is  that 
my  baby?'  And  when  he  was  home  she  always 
moved  her  chair  so  she  could  keep  her  eyes  on  him. 
She  used  to  go  over  his  lessons  with  him  every  night. 
She  just  wrapped  him  round  with  thought  and  care 
and  love  and  tenderness.  Just  think  what  mother's 
death  must  have  meant  to  him — to  have  all  that 
stop  short  and  forever  when  he  was  only  sixteen.  It 
must  have  hit  Roly  harder  than  any  of  us." 

The  group  made  involuntary  movements  of  pro- 
test.    "Oh,  Lainey!"  Ann  exclaimed  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you're  going  to  say,"  Lainey 
anticipated.  "  Nevertheless,  I'm  telling  you  the 
truth.  The  rest  of  us  had  our  various  interests 
which  we  took  up  and  threw  ourselves  into — hard — 
in  order  to  forget.  But  poor  little  Roly  had  nothing 
outside — only  school  and  the  other  boys.  And 
then  again  the  rest  of  us  sort  of  pair  off  or  group 
off  together — Beckie  and  Ann  and  me — Ed  and  Matt 
— but  Roly  seems  so  alone,  a  boy  after  three  girls 
and  at  the  tail-end  of  the  family.  We  all  love  Roly 
— love  him  dearly,  of  course — but  he's  out  of  the 
sphere  of  our  companionship  from  his  very  youth. 
He  must  be  lonely.  He  can't  help  being  lonely. 
And  he  misses  his  mother  terribly.  I  don't  think 
he  knows  what's  the  matter  with  him.  But  it  ac- 
counts partially  for  his  grouches." 


Roly  Comes  Through  211 

"  But,  Lainey,"  Beckie  said  in  a  subdued  tone. 
It  was  more  as  though  she  were  defending  herself 
than  accusing  Roly.  "  He's  grown  so  careless  about 
his  appearance.  You've  no  idea  how  he  looks  and 
when  I  speak  to  him  about  it " 

"  It  was  rainy  the  day  Roly  came  to  see  me," 
Lainey  said.  "  As  he  sat,  I  noticed  that  a  little 
puddle  formed  under  one  of  his  shoes.  When  he 
changed  his  position,  I  saw  that  there  was  a  hole 
in  the  sole.  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that  mother 
has  been  dead  for  nearly  a  year  and  we  haven't 
bought  Roly  any  new  clothes  yet?  He  had  only  the 
hand-me-downs  that  come  from  here  and  there — 
Uncle  John's  shirts,  for  instance.  He's  wearing 
practically  the  same  clothes  he  wore  when  mother 
died.  They're  so  spotted  and  threadbare  that  nat- 
urally he  takes  no  interest  in  them.  And  you  all 
know  how  much  Roly  enjoys  smart  clothes  and 
what  good  taste  he  has — how  fond  he  is,  for  in- 
stance, of  nice  shades  of  brown." 

"  Well,  of  course,"  Ann  admitted,  "  he  does  look 
awfully  shabby.  But  then,  boys  of  his  age  always 
look  like  the  dickens." 

11  Dink  Hardy  doesn't,"  Lainey  said.  "  Another 
thing!  "  she  added.  "  Do  you  realize  that  although 
we  insist  on  his  staying  in  school,  it  has  never  oc- 
curred to  us  to  give  him  an  allowance?  There  are 
certain  things  a  boy  has  to  have  and  has  to  do — but 
Roly  never  has  the  money  for  any  of  these  things. 
He  has  to  depend  on  getting  a  chance  to  do  odd  jobs 
Saturdays — his  holidays.  No  wonder  he's  crazy  to 
go  to  work  to  earn  some  money.  No  self-respecting 
boy  wants  to  live  under  those  conditions." 

"  But  you  must  realize  that  that  isn't  all  of  it, 


212  Roly  Comes  Through 

Lainey,"  Ed  said.  Ed's  tone  was  as  non-commit- 
tal as  his  icy,  impassive  face.  "  He's  bowling  and 
playing  pool  until  all  hours." 

"  That's  his  only  source  of  income,"  Lainey  de- 
clared, and  then,  "  What  else  is  there  for  him  to 
do?  "  she  demanded.  "  He  doesn't  want  to  stay  at 
home  and  just  listen  to  our  talk  and  meet  our  callers. 
They  don't  interest  him  at  all.  He  wouldn't  be 
normal  if  they  did.  We've  simply  got  to  find  some- 
thing better  for  him  to  do.  We  never  do  anything 
for  Roly's  entertainment."  She  paused.  "  I  bet  if 
you  were  to  ask  Roly  about  it  to-night,  he'd  say 
there  wasn't  one  of  us  cared  a  pin  for  him." 

14  What  would  you  advise  us  to  do,  Lainey?  "  Ed 
broke  the  pregnant  hush  that  trailed  Lainey's  last 
word.  There  was  a  sarcastic  emphasis  given  to  the 
word  you,  but  he  waited  for  his  sister  to  answer. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  Lainey  answered  promptly. 

When  Roland  opened  the  door  about  noon  Sun- 
day morning,  the  house  seemed  wrapped  in  calm. 
But  as  he  stole  to  his  room  on  the  second  floor  there 
came  from  the  girls'  room  a  chatter — Beckie's  low, 
cello-like  tone,  Lainey's  soft  bird-like  accent,  Ann's 
decided  treble.  From  above  floated  fragments  of 
a  bass  dialogue  between  Matt  and  Ed.  Roly  opened 
the  door  with  care,  slipped  into  his  room  with  quiet, 
shut  the  door  with  caution,  turned 

From  the  arm  of  one  gas-jet  there  hung  on  a 
stretcher  a  suit  of  clothes,  one  of  Ed's  smart  tweeds 
— brown.  Under  it,  neatly  shaped  by  wooden  trees, 
was  a  pair  of  shoes,  brown.  From  the  other  gas-jet 
hung,  also  on  a  stretcher,  one  of  Matt's  overcoats, 
a    rough,    loosely-woven    cloth — brown.      On    the 


Roly  Comes  Through  213 

dresser-top  lay  a  pile  of  new  stockings — brown. 
From  the  dresser-frame  dangled  four  new  ties — 
shades  of  brown. 

Roly  stared  at  these  objects,  one  at  a  time.  Then, 
suddenly,  unconsciously  attracted,  he  raised  his  eyes. 

Stuck  into  the  frame  of  the  mirror  were  five  en- 
velopes.    They  all  bore  his  name. 
^     Roly  stared  at  these  notes,  one  at  a  time.     Then 
he  opened  them  as  they  came  to  his  hand. 

"  Say,  kid  M  (this  was  signed  Matt),  "  I  thought 
you  might  like  this  coat  of  mine,  as  I'm  through  with 
it.''  "Dear  Roly"  (it  was  Beckie's  long,  plain 
hand),  "  it  has  just  occurred  to  me  that  you  might 
need  stockings.  Put  on  one  of  the  silk  pairs  to-day. 
They're  for  Sunday."  "  Dear  Roly-Poly  "  (in  lead 
pencil  from  Ann),  M  the  ties  are  from  me.  I  got 
them  at  Weld  Swinnerton's — those  you  and  I  liked 
so  much  that  time  we  went  in  there.  Believe  me, 
they  took  some  simoleons.  But  I  should  worry.  I 
took  half  the  cash  out  of  the  housekeeping  allow- 
ance. We're  going  to  have  jello,  canned  peaches, 
rice,  cottage,  tapioca  and  bread  pudding  for  dessert 
for  a  month.  Don't  say  anything  about  this  to  the 
family."  "  If  this  suit  is  too  large  (this  was  Ed's 
small,  neat  script) ,  take  it  to  my  tailor.  The  shoes 
will  fit  you,  as  they're  a  little  small  for  me.  I 
haven't  worn  them  yet.  In  the  coat-pocket  you'll 
find  something.  It's  a  present  from  the  family. 
Go  into  Boston  Monday  and  stock  up  on  what  you 
need.  After  this  you  are  to  have  an  allowance  of 
two  dollars  a  week." 

Roly  stared  at  this  last  note  for  a  long  time. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  coat  of  Ed's  suit,  slipped  his 
hand  through  the  pockets.     In  one  he  struck  a  long 


214  Roly  Comes  Through 

manila  envelope,  unsealed.  Out  of  it,  at  his  touch, 
fell — clean  and  new — paper  money,  two  yellow 
twenties,  one  green  ten. 

Roly  stared  at  the  bills,  turned  them  over,  stared 
at  them  again. 

Finally,  his  eyes  came  back  to  the  bureau  to  the 
only  unopened  envelope.  "  Roly,  darling,"  Lainey 
wrote  in  her  undeveloped  schoolgirl  hand,  "  my 
present  is  on  the  wall." 

Roly  stared  at  this  only  an  instant.  Then  his  eyes 
lifted,  wandered  to  the  closet-door,  over  the  win- 
dows, across  the  space  at  the  side  of  the  bed  to 

The  picture  that  Lainey  had  had  framed  for  Roly 
was  hanging  there.  Mrs.  Ollivant,  seated  under  a 
big,  low-hanging  vine,  had  raised  herself  upright  in 
her  invalid's  chair.  The  ends  of  the  long  scarf  of 
white  lace  that  she  wore  on  her  head  had  fallen  for- 
ward, framing  softly  her  look  of  eager  anticipation 
— the  shining  eyes,  the  smiling  lips.  Obviously,  she 
was  waiting  to  welcome  somebody  who  was  coming 
up  the  piazza  steps — perhaps  Roly  did  not  have  to 
be  told  who. 

Lainey  tiptoed  across  the  hall  to  Roly's  room. 
But  with  her  hand  on  the  knob,  she  paused.  Sud- 
denly she  bent  her  head  to  listen.  A  scared  look 
zigzagged  across  her  face,  opened  her  eyes  wide, 
set  her  lips  to  trembling.     She  paused  irresolutely. 

After  an  instant  she  tiptoed  back.  "We  won't 
disturb  him,"  she  said  to  her  sisters.  "He  won't 
want  to  see  anybody  for  a  while."  She  busied  her- 
self rehanging  the  clothes  in  the  closet.  When  she 
emerged  her  own  eyes  were  red. 

Later,  Roly's  door  opened  and  shut  with  a  buoy- 


Roly  Comes  Through  215 

ant  slam.  The  bathroom  door  opened  and  shut 
with  equal  force.  There  came  from  it  the  sound  of 
a  vigorous  splashing,  mingled  with  a  shrill  whistling, 
which  always  indicated  Roly's  tenancy  of  the  tub. 
When  he  appeared  at  dinner,  he  was  wearing  Ed's 
suit  and  shoes,  a  pair  of  Beckie's  stockings,  one  of 
Ann's  ties.  His  face  and  hands  shone  with  a 
scrubbed  cleanliness  that  might  have  been  the  re- 
flection of  his  immaculate  linen.  His  teeth  made  a 
dazzle  almost  phosphorescent  in  his  vivid  olive  skin. 
His  hair,  freshly  shampooed,  flew  about  his  face  like 
a  jetty  hurricane.  All  the  glare  had  gone  out  of 
his  eyes;  they  were  filled  with  an  electric  sparkle. 

11  Welcome,  little  stranger !  "  Ed  greeted  him  care- 
lessly, without  looking  up  from  his  paper. 

And,  "  Hullo,  kid,"  Matt  threw  over  his  shoulder. 

And,  "  Oh,  you  there,  Roly?  "  Lainey  called  from 
the  living-room.  "  We've  got  apple-dumplings  and 
hard  sauce  for  dessert.  Ann  made  them  specially 
for  you." 

And,  "  Yes — and  pipe  the  silver  service,  Roly," 
Ann  said.  "  The  last  time  we  used  it  was  on  your 
tenth  birthday,  when  mother  had  a  party  for  you." 

And,  "Roly  there?"  Beckie  called  from  the 
kitchen.     uThen  dinner's  ready." 

Roly  looked  at  each  of  them.  Then  he  gulped 
as  with  a  sudden  resolution. 

"  Just  wait  a  jiff  while  I  telephone,  Beck,"  he 
begged.  He  bounded  into  the  parlor.  "  Copley, 
5643,"  he  called.  ...  u  Is  this  Copley,  5643?" 
he  questioned.  Roly  talked  loudly  and  distinctly,  as 
though  to  a  louder  audience  than  the  one  at  the 
other  end  of  the  wire.  "Oh,  hello,  Mrs.  Hardy; 
is     Dink     there?       .    .    .All     right.    .    ...   Oh, 


2l6 


Roly  Comes  Through 


hullo,  Dink.  Say,  Dink,  what  do  you  say  to  our 
joining  that  new  gymnasium  in  Brookline?  I  wa 
just  thinking  it  would  be  a  good  scheme  to  cut  ou 
all  this  bowling  and  pool-playing.  That  doesn't  ge 
a  fellow  anywhere  and  keeps  him  out  late  besides. 
I'd  like  to  do  some  running.  I  hope  to  go  in  for 
the  school-track  team  in  the  spring  and  I  might  a 
well  begin  to  train  now.  IVe  always  thought  F 
make  a  half-miler.  Say,  Dink,  just  let  you  and  m 
run  all  winter  and  we'll  beat  one-fifty-two  in  th 
spring — easy." 


CHAPTER  X 
MATT  LOOKS  UPON  THE  WINE 

"fT^HERE  it  is!  "  Beckie  exclaimed,  rushing  to 

X  the  window  and  throwing  up  the  sash. 
"Listen!" 

"  No.  That's  only  a  train,"  Ann  contradicted, 
following  her.  "  Our  clock's  fast.  There,  there  it 
is.     Listen !  " 

11  That's  an  auto,"  Lainey  explained,  joining  them. 
"  No,  the  clock's  right.  I  asked  Ed  to  set  it  just 
before  he  left.    There,  there  it  is.    Listen!  " 

The  three  little  necks  craned  to  a  listening  angle. 
The  three  little  heads  dropped  to  a  listening  attitude. 
The  three  little  faces  sharpened  to  a  listening  expres- 
sion. 

"  Isn't  the  snow  wonderful  to-night?  "  Lainey  said 
dreamily  as  nothing  happened.  "  How  strange 
everything  looks !  " 

At  first  sight,  the  world  was  strange — as  though 
a  flood  of  molten  marble,  engulfing  it,  had  hardened 
and  set  to  a  silver  glisten.  And  Marlowe  Place  in 
particular  might  have  been  the  studio  of  some 
Brogdingnagian  sculptor.  Sheds  showed  the  shapes 
of  prehistoric  earth-monsters.  Bushes  reared  the 
fronts  of  prehistoric  sea-monsters.  Trees  spread 
the  wings  of  prehistoric  air-monsters.  The  houses 
looked  like  enormous  heads  of  which  the  bodies, 
enormous  too,  stood  upright  underground.     They 

217 


Lly 

I 


218  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

wore — these     heads — caps    of    snow,     gigantically 
hooded  and  brimmed,  veils  of  snow  titanically  sea 
loped  and  tucked,   mufflers   of   snow,   ponderous 
rolled  and  folded.     The  air  covered  the  scene  li 
an  enormous  crystal.     And  over  the  air  arched  a  s 
of  clouded  quartz  set  with  a  few  large  stars  carved 
from  steel  and  a  big  round  moon  cut  from  diamon 

At  second  sight,  however,  the  scene  turned  h 
man  again.  The  windows  of  the  houses  were  shee 
of  gold.  They  were  broken  by  dimly-seen  circles  o 
green,  tied  with  bows  of  crimson,  that  hung  between 
frost-filmed  pane  and  lace-filmed  curtain.  Here  the 
shadow  of  a  tree,  bearing  the  magic  fruit  of  the 
season,  candles,  garlands,  toys,  was  etched  in  black 
on  the  shades.  There,  a  laughing  profile  suddenly 
silhouetted  itself  on  the  curtain,  vanished  again. 

"  How  quiet  it  is!  "  Lainey  went  on.     "  It's 
though  everything  was  listening  for  something." 

A  wind,  knife-sharp,  came  zizzing  through  th 
place.  The  stars  flamed.  The  moon  flared.  Th 
trees  bent,  became  each  the  center  of  a  miniatur 
white  storm,  righted  themselves.  Far-away  a  sleigh 
bell  tinkled.    Then  the  world  became  still  again 

"There  it  is!"  Beckie  exclaimed  joyously 
"  One,  two,  three,  four !  " 

11  Five,  six,  seven,  eight!  "  Lainey  chimed  in  wit 
her. 

"  Nine,  ten,  eleven,  twelve !  "  Irresistibly  at 
tracted,  Ann  joined  the  chorus. 

The  bells  flooded  the  universe  with  vibrations 
They  shattered  the  crystal  of  the  air,  beat  down 
ward,  caught  the  world  in  an  iron  grip,  shook  it, 
beat  upward,  crashed  against  the  sky.  A  solitary 
motor-horn  in  the  distance  let  out  a  long  liquid 


8, 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  219 

sando.  It  floated  on  the  air  like  a  ribbon,  wound 
itself  mellowly  through  the  twelve-tongue d  cry  of 
the  bells.  The  vibrations  caught  it,  tore  it  to  films 
of  sound.  The  films  dissolved,  disappeared.  The 
bells  stopped.  The  vibrations  died.  The  world 
turned  silent  again. 

"Happy  New  Year!"  Lainey  said. 

"Happy  New  Year!  Happy  New  Year!" 
Beckie  and  Ann  took  it  up. 

They  shut  the  windows  and  turned  back  to  the 
seats  at  the  living-room  fire.  The  two  rooms  still 
bore  their  holiday  decorations.  A  Christmas  tree, 
glittering  red  and  green,  blue  and  silver,  under  the 
torrent  of  gold  which  seemed  to  pour  from  its  peak, 
stood  in  the  corner.  Wreaths  of  holly  decorated 
the  windows.  A  bunch  of  mistletoe  hung  between 
the  two  rooms.  Garlands  of  green  wreathed  the 
pictures  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ollivant.  But  the  tree 
had  begun  to  shed  its  shining,  pungent  plumage ;  the 
blood-red  holly  berries  had  blackened  and  shrunk; 
the  frost-white  mistletoe  berries  had  wizened  and 
withered.  On  the  hearth  was  a  pan  of  molasses 
candy  that  Ann  had  made  and  a  little  blue-and-white 
pot  of  tea  that  Beckie  had  brewed.  The  three 
empty  cups  sat  beside  them. 

"  We  must  take  all  those  green  things  down  before 
Twelfth  Night,"  Lainey  said  absently,  "  or  the 
goblins  will  get  into  them.  Just  think,"  she  went 
on  in  an  awed  tone.  "  It's  another  year.  Another 
year !  How  mysterious  that  sounds !  Oh,  isn't  life 
wonderful!  And  the  world — and  space — and  time 
— and — and — and  everything!  Why,  it's  just  as 
though  we  were  all  on  a  raft  in  a  stream  and  the 
stream  were  carrying  us  on  and  on  and  on — straight 


? 

k's 


220  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

into  eternity — we  don't  know  where  or  why  or  how 
or  anything.     And  it  wouldn't  make  any  differen 
if  we  did  know — we'd  have  to  go,  just  the  sarm 
Every  once  in  a  while  we  pass  a  lighthouse  and  that's 
the  New  Year.     And  the  queer  thing  about  it  is  tha 
although  the  lighthouses  are  always  the  same  diffe 
ence  apart,  the  older  we  grow  the  nearer  they  seem 
to  get  together." 

One  of  Lainey's  "  fey  "  moods  was  on  her.     A 
silvery  flame  had  kindled  at  the  far  end  of  the  long, 
soft,  gray  tunnels  that  were  her  eyes.     It  fanned 
waves  of  color  through  her  pale  cheeks  and  ran 
sparkling  cascades  through  her  filmy  hair. 

"Lainey  Ollivant!"  Ann  said  scathingly,  "t 
boys  say  you're  a  nut  when  you  go  on  in  that  dotty 
strain.  And  sometimes  I  agree  with  them.  Now, 
talk  sense." 

Lainey  accepted  without  a  murmur  the  prevailing 
opinion  of  her.  M  Well,  anyway,"  she  remonstrated 
mildly,  "  perhaps  you'll  admit  that  time  flies." 

"Flies!"  Ann  repeated.  "Flies!  That's  just 
what  I  won't  admit.  I  should  say  not.  Flies!  It 
creeps,  I  never  saw  anything  go  so  slow  as  time 
does.  Why,  it  was  ages  before  I  got  into  my  teens ! 
And  now  that  I'm  getting  toward  twenty,  it's  slower 
than  ever.  I  suppose  it  is  because  I've  always  ex- 
pected that  something  would  happen  to  me  when  1 
grew  up.  But,  of  course,  I  know  better  than  that 
now.  Nothing  ever  happens  in  this  hateful,  horridr 
hideous  old  world." 

From  a  light  note  of  exasperation,  Ann's  voice 
had  sunk  to  the  roundest  depths  of  her  nineteei 
year-old  pessimism. 

Her  statement  brought  immediate  contradicti< 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  22 r- 

11  Now  I  think  lots  of  things  happen,"  Beckie  re- 
marked placidly.  And  "  Why — why — why,"  Lainey 
positively  stuttered.  "  Things  are  happening  all  the 
time — every  minute." 

"  What,  for  instance,"  Ann  demanded  in  a  bitter 
tone.  "  Tell  me  one  thing  that's  ever  happened  to 
me — or  us." 

Lainey  did  not  answer.  But  perceptibly  she 
probed  her  memory  for  data. 

"  I'll  tell  you  why  nothing  ever  happens  to  us," 
Ann  went  on  scornfully.  "  It's  because  we  haven't 
the  sense  to  makee  anything  happen.  Why  didn't  we 
have  a  New  Year's  party  to-night,  for  instance  ?  " 

II  A  New  Year's  party!  "  Beckie  exclaimed  with 
visible  shock.  "  Why,  I  wouldn't  know  how  to  give 
a  New  Year's  party.  Besides,  you  know — well — ■ 
we  never  have  had  parties." 

II I  know  we  haven't,"  Ann  agreed,  "  but  that's 
no  reason  why  we  shouldn't.  I  never  had  a  New 
Year's  celebration  in  my  life  and  I  never  went  to 
one  except  in  a  church  or  a  hall — a  watch-meeting 
or  something  stupid  like  that.  But  then,  that's  Bos- 
ton. Don't  I  wish  I  lived  in  New  York !  Edwina 
Allen  was  there  last  New  Year's  and  you  ought  to 
hear  her  tell  about  the  party  she  went  to  in  a  res- 
taurant. There  were  twelve  of  them  and  they  had 
to  reserve  the  table  weeks  beforehand  and  they  could 
order  nothing  to  drink  but  champagne.  The  place 
was  simply  jammed  with  the  most  gorgeously  dressed 
people  you  ever  saw  in  your  life.  Edwina  said  the 
evening-wraps  alone  were  the  most  wonderful  crea- 
tions— the  kind  you  only  see  in  shop-windows  in 
Boston.  She  said  she  never  saw  so  much  cham- 
pagne in  her  life.     She  didn't  know  there  was  so 


222  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

much  in  the  world — it  flowed  like  water.  They 
gave  all  the  ladies  the  prettiest  favors  you  ever  saw. 
And  just  before  twelve,  the  waiters  went  round 
handing  out  bushels  of  confetti  and  those  paper 
streamers  and  great  big  balloons  and,  oh,  I  can't 
remember  all.  And  when  the  New  Year  sounded,  a 
girl  all  in  tights  came  out  of  a  great  clock  in  the 
corner  and  everybody  cheered  and  fox-trotted  and 
lame-ducked  and  sang  and  drank  healths  and  you 
shook  hands  with  perfect  strangers — and  then  they 
all  went  out  on  Broadway  and  walked  way  up- 
town, and  there  were  simply  billions  of  people  toot- 
ing horns  and  throwing  confetti — and  everybody 
talking  to  everybody — even  the  policemen.  Oh, 
Edwina  said  it  was  the  most  marvelous  sight  she 
ever  saw  in  her  life.** 

"  It  must  have  been  just  like  the  night  before 
Bunker  Hill  Day  in  Charlestown,"  remarked  the 
guileless  Lainey. 

11  Bunker  Hill  Day — Charlestown!  "  Ann  said  in 
the  height  of  civic  scorn.  "  That's  just  as  much  as 
you  know  about  such  things,  Lainey — comparing  a 
bum  holiday  with  a  real  carnival.  There  was  class 
to  this  New  York  celebration.  Actors  and  actresses 
there — and  wonderful  show-girls,  and  artist's  models 
and  famous  people  of  all  descriptions.  I  don't  know 
why  I  had  to  be  born  in  Boston." 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  knock  Boston  so,"  Beckie 
commented  indignantly.  "  I'm  sure  it's  a  beautiful 
city.  Mother  used  to  say  that  she  traveled  on 
three  continents  and  she  never  saw  anything  any 
where  so  beautiful  as  Boston  Common  covered  with 
snow  and  the  moon  shining  on  it.  And  I'm  sure  I 
agree  with  her." 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  223 

"Have  you  ever  lived  in  any  other  city?"  Ann 
demanded  ruthlessly. 

"No,"  Beckie  admitted  reluctantly. 

"  That's  the  answer  to  why  you  think  so." 

"  But  everybody  says  so  " — Beckie  again  rose  and 
battled — "  even  people  who've  traveled." 

"  If  they're  Bostonians  of  course  they  do.  Well, 
I'm  glad  you  like  Boston,  Beckie,  seeing  youVe  got 
to  live  here.  I  call  it  a  dead,  cold,  slow  little  burg 
and  I'm  going  to  get  out  of  it  just  as*  soon  as  I  can. 
I'm  going  on  the  stage  if  it's  necessary."  This  was 
Ann's  deadliest  threat. 

"  But  think  of  the  culture  here,"  Beckie  remon- 
strated. 

"  Culture !  "  Ann  repeated.  "  Culture,  Who 
wants  culture.  Culture's  gone  out.  My  goodness, 
when  I  think  of  Boston,  I  don't  blame  people  for 
being  I.  W.  W.'s." 

14 Why  don't  you  join  the  I.  W.  W.,  Ann?" 
Lainey  suggested.  Lainey,  a  little  humorless  nor- 
mally, could  on  occasions  develop  a  subtle  strain  of 
sarcasm.     "  Things  happen  to  them." 

"The  I.  W.  W.,"  Ann  repeated  in  a  wearied 
voice.  "  The  I.  W.  W.  There's  a  lot  of  class  to 
the  I.  W.W.,  isn't  there?" 

"  I'm  thinking  quite  seriously  of  joining  it  myself," 
said  Lainey. 

"  Lainey  Ollivant,"  Ann  said  in  tones  round  and 
full  with  horror,  "  I  will  not  stand  for  it.  Think  of 
having  an  I.  W.  W.  in  the  family.  It's  bad  enough 
your  being  a  Socialist — but  when  it  comes  to  being 
an  I-Won't-Work — and  picketing — and  talking  from 
soap-boxes  on  street-corners — and  breaking  ma- 
chinery— and  everything — I  can't  see  when  you  were 


224  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

going  in  for  such  queer  things  you  didn't  take  up 
College  Settlement  work.  College  Settlement  is 
perfectly  correct.  Lots  of  real  society  people  go  in 
for  that — or  even  suffrage.  But  Socialism/  And 
as  sure  as  you  get  to  be  an  I.  W.  W.,  Lainey  Olli- 
vant,  you'll  go  to  jail,  you  mark  my  words.  Why,  I 
never  tasted  champagne  but  once  in  all  my  life,"  Ann 
reverted  to  her  original  grievance.  "  And  then  I 
had  only  two  teeny-weeny  glasses.  It  was  on  board 
Commodore  Carleton's  yacht.  That  crowd  drank 
champagne  an  awful  lot.  I  always  refused  it.  Now 
I  wish  I'd  drunk  every  glass  they  offered  me." 

In  the  height  of  her  recklessness,  Ann  seized  her 
little  boudoir-cap  and  dashed  it  on  the  floor.  "  I'm 
sick  of  nothing  happening,"  she  announced. 

She  was  a  monument  to  discontent  at  that  mo- 
ment, her  warm  lips  pouted  to  their  most  scornfu 
fullness,  her  big  eyes  lighted  to  their  most  scornfu 
blaze.  Ann  was  the  only  one  of  the  Ollivant  girls 
who  made  a  point  of  having  negligee  clothes.  Now 
she  wore  a  little,  straight,  flat,  medieval-looking 
garment  of  a  satin-surfaced  exquisitely-faded  rose. 
She  had  cut  this  down  from  an  old  evening-wrap 
of  her  mother's  that  she  had  found  in  the  garret,  just 
as  she  had  cut  her  slippers  down  from  a  pair  of  high, 
pink-kid  shoes  which  she  had  found  there.  The 
rose  tones  brought  out  all  the  lusciousness  of  her 
type — the  tawny  notes  in  her  hair  and  brows  and 
eyes;  her  anger  seemed  to  superimpose  upon  that 
lusciousness  an  amber  glitter.  For  an  instant,  her 
two  sisters  looked — little  blonde  Lainey — pale  and 
neutral-tinted — bigger,  darker  Beckie — thick  and 
dull  in  comparison.  Then,  as  indignation  colored 
them,  Beckie's  vigorous  deep-toned  brownness  took 


! 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  225 

on  a  brighter  fire,  Lainey's  frail  light-shot  blondness 
a  heavier  warmth. 

"I've  never  tasted  champagne,"  Lainey  asserted 
with  an  air  of  fiery  rectitude,  "  or  anything  intoxicat- 
ing. I  don't  believe  in  drinking — or  at  least  in 
women  drinking — not  until  they're  married,  any- 
way." 

"  I'm  for  temperance,"  Beckie  insisted  with  a 
look  imperious  with  obstinacy.  "  Mother  always 
was." 

"Well,  I'm  not,"  Ann  said.  "I  hate  temper- 
ance or  anything  that  prevents  you  from  doing  what 
you  like.  If  there  was  a  bottle  of  champagne  in 
this  house  at  this  moment,"  she  glared  at  her  sisters, 
14  I'd  drink  it,"  she  paused  and  added  with  a  visible 
access  of  recklessness,  "  even  if  I  got  drunk." 

14  Oh,  Ann!  "  exclaimed  Lainey,  scandalized. 

44 1  guess  it's  about  time  for  us  to  go  to  bed," 
Beckie  suggested  in  a  disapproving  tone. 

44  Well,  as  long  as  there's  nothing  else  to  do," 
Ann  agreed,  u  I  suppose  we'd  better."  Her  revo- 
lutionary spirit  turned  suddenly  to  listlessness. 
"  Come  on,  Lainey." 

Lainey  did  not  move.  Instead,  "  Hark!  "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Somebody's  at  the  door.  One  of  the 
boys  is  coming  home." 

Somebody  was  at  the  door.  Plainly  there  came 
through  the  silence  the  sound  of  a  hand  on  the  knob. 
A  key  clinked  in  the  keyhole,  scraped  across  the 
door-panel,  slithered  back  in  irresolute  dashes  over 
the  wood,  clattered  in  uncertain  peckings  at  the  key- 
hole again.  The  door  opened  suddenly.  Some- 
body stumbled  up  the  top  stair,  tripped  over  the 
threshold. 


226  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

11  Well,  whoever  it  is,  I  should  think  he  was  blind," 
Ann  remarked  with  captious  intent.  "  Oh,  it's 
Matt!     Hullo,  Matt!     Happy  New  Year!" 

"  Happy  New  Year,  Matt!  M  Lainey  and  Beckie 
chorused. 

"Happy  New  Year,  girls!"  Matt  responded. 
44  Happy  New  Year!" 

He  stood  in  the  hall  for  an  instant,  removing  his 
hat  and  coat.  He  seemed  to  have  trouble  with 
both.  The  hat,  as  though  possessed  by  a  spirit  of 
contrariety  positively  human,  refused  to  be  hung  up. 
It  fell  from  his  hand  twice  and  he  was,  each  time, 
a  long  while  in  recovering  it.  44  I  request  you  to 
hang  on  that  hook,"  Matt  finally  addressed  it  in  a 
tone  of  steely  courtesy.  It  obeyed.  The  coat  was 
even  more  unruly  than  the  hat — perhaps  because 
Matt  tried  to  cram  it  into  the  narrow  drawer  in 
the  settle.  It  rolled  and  rippled  and  bulged  out  of 
his  hands.  Finally,  he  changed  his  mind  as  to  its 
disposal,  44  Will  you  kindly  stay  where  I  put  you?  " 
he  asked,  hanging  it  with  exquisite  care  beside  his 
hat.     The  coat  also  obeyed. 

44  Happy  New  Year,  girls !  "  Matt  repeated  ab- 
sently as  he  entered  the  room.  He  made  for  a  seat 
in  front  of  the  fire.  He  walked  with  perceptible 
care  and  precision,  but  the  furniture  kept  getting  in 
his  way.  A  big  chair  reached  out  a  treacherous 
arm  and  pulled  him  over.  A  table  put  forth  a  steal- 
thy foot  and  tripped  him  up.  The  couch  started 
openly  to  bar  his  progress.  He  overcame  all  these 
obstacles,  but  only  by  the  employment  in  equal  quan- 
tities of  strategy  and  diplomacy. 

44  Oh,  do  for  goodness'  sake  pick  up  your 
feet,     Matt,"    Ann    rebuked    him    sharply    once. 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  227 

"  I  shouldn't  think  you  knew  where  you  were 
going." 

"  I  don't,"  Matt  admitted,  still  weaving  towards 
a  chair.  And  he  laughed  uproariously  as  at  a  joke 
on  himself.  But  his  face  sobered  instantly.  A  cun- 
ning expression  wiped  the  mirth  out.  "  I  don't 
know  where  I'm  going,"  he  admitted  again,  "  but — " 
he  paused  and  swayed  a  little,  ubut,"  he  added 
impressively,  "  Vm  on  my  way."  He  contemplated 
his  three  sisters  in  silence  as  though  marking  the 
effect  on  them  of  this  revelation.  It  produced  no 
effect  whatever  and  Matt  seated  himself  in  a  chair  by 
the  fire. 

His  face  was  flushed.  His  hair,  which  usually 
rose  to  so  trim  and  rampant  a  crest  of  red,  had 
rumpled  and  tumbled  into  the  curls  that  he  always 
tried  so  hard  to  smooth  out.  Beginning  at  the  nape 
of  his  neck,  they  seemed  to  be  running  hard  uphill 
over  the  round  of  his  head  to  inundate  his  brow  with 
their  copper  torrent.  His  eyelids  dropped  half  over 
his  eyes.  Those  eyes  were  dulled,  although  they 
held  little  quicksilver  glints  of  mirth.  His  lips,  as 
though  he  had  lost  control  of  them,  kept  breaking 
into  smiles.  These  smiles  widened  until  they  broke 
and  vanished.  Suddenly  without  warning  he  threw 
himself  back  into  his  chair  and  burst  into  a  roar 
of  laughter.  "  Happy  New  Year,  girls!"  he 
said. 

Matt's  laughter  was  infectious.  The  three  girls 
laughed  with  him.  "  You  must  have  been  having 
a  good  time  to  be  so  happy,  Matt,"  Lainey  com- 
mented in  her  little  voice. 

"  I  think  you're  silly,"  Ann  remarked  in  her 
round  notes.     "  What  have  you  been  doing?  " 


228  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 


"  Oh,  a  lot  of  things,"  Matt  answered  vaguely. 
11  Been  round  to  a  lot  of  places — seen  a  lot  of  peo- 
ple— been  round  a  lot — seen  a  lot — but "     He 

stopped  and  appeared  to  grope  for  something  he 
had  forgotten.  For  a  moment,  his  head  dropped. 
His  eyes,  half  closed,  closed  entirely.  A  look  of 
cunning  introspection  crossed  his  face.  Then  ob- 
viously he  got  what  he  was  searching  for.  u  Vm 
on  my  way/"  he  pronounced  impressively.  Again 
he  stared  hard  at  his  sisters.  Immediately  another 
mood  caught  him.  "Happy  New  Year,  girls!" 
He  burst  into  roars  of  laughter. 

But  his  sisters  did  not  laugh  with  him  this  time. 
"  Oh,  do  stop,  Matt,"  Beckie  exclaimed.  "  I  don't 
think  that  joke  is  funny  any  longer." 

"  I  didn't  think  it  was  funny  at  the  beginning," 
Ann  remarked  caustically. 

Matt's  eyes  opened  wide  again.  The  mirth 
melted  slowly  from  his  face.  In  its  place  came  a 
delicious  dewiness  as  of  complete  relaxation.  The 
little  quicksilver  glints  of  mischief  vanished  from 
his  eyes;  they  became  softly  hazy.  His  lips  kept 
flickering  into  smiles,  not  of  amusement  but  of  hap- 
piness. "  I  think  it's  awful  funny,"  he  said. 
"  Happy  New  Year,  girls !  Happy  New  Year, 
girls !  Happy  New  Year !  This  year  and  next  year 
and  nexz  year  and  the  year  after  that  and  the  year 
affer  that  and  so  on  forever  and  ever  and  ever — 
andever — andever — andever — anever — anever — an- 
ever — happy — New  Years-girls — happy-New  Years- 
skerls — zappy-year-skerls — zappy-skerls !  " 

This  protracted  effort  was  a  little  too  much  for 
him.  He  fell  back  in  his  seat,  pulled  himself  for- 
ward with  a  jerk,   fell  back,   sagged  and  stayed 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  229 

Sagged.  His  eyes  opened,  closed,  opened  again. 
"Zappy!"  he  commented,  "sounds  like  a  puppy- 
dog."    His  eyes  closed  and  stayed  closed. 

Neither  of  the  girls  replied.  Ann  stared  hard 
but  movelessly  at  her  brother,  the  full  red  lower  lip 
gradually  falling  away  from  the  pouting  red  upper 
one  until  a  double  ripple  of  pearl  appeared  between 
them.  Her  eyes  opened  wide  until  the  whites  ap- 
peared about  the  golden  irises.  Lainey  stared  hard, 
and  movelessly  too,  the  look  of  wonder  in  her  face 
concentrating  gradually  to  alarm.  Her  eyes  did  not 
open,  but  they  darkened  until  they  became  panic- 
spots.  Beckie  stared  but  not  movelessly.  She  came 
with  a  snap  to  an  upright  position.  Her  eyes  nar- 
rowed as  they  studied  Matt. 

For  a  noiseless  interval,  they  all  stared  together 
at  the  sagging  figure.  The  clock  tapped  madly,  the 
fire  splashed  frantically  as  though  trying  to  distract 
their  attention.  Then  the  three  pairs  of  eyes — 
golden-brown,  gray-blue,  hazel-green — met  in  an  ex- 
change of  looks.  Suddenly  a  deep  flood  of  crimson 
pushed  forward  through  the  thick  velvet  of  Ann's 
white  skin.  But  through  the  delicate  thinness  of 
Lainey's  transparent  contours  the  blood  raced  back- 
wards, draining  them  of  light  and  life.  Beckie's 
did  not  change  in  color,  but  her  expression  set  into 
strange  lines  and  hollows. 

Beckie  spoke  first.  She  did  not  speak,  really.  She 
motioned  with  her  lips.  "  He's  drunk/'  they  ges- 
tured. 

Her  sisters  looked  at  her  for  what  was  obviously 
an  interval  of  paralysis.  Lainey  sat  frozen — a  lit- 
tle image  carved  in  ice,  of  horror.  But  Ann's  ter- 
ror translated  itself  finally  into  speech — speech  as 


230  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

silent  as  Beckie's.  "What  shall  we  do?"  her  lips 
motioned. 

"  Get  him  to  bed,"  Beckie  signaled  back.  With 
an  air  of  resolution,  she  arose.  She  bent  over  the 
recumbent  Matt,  fast  asleep  now  and  smiling  in  his 
sleep,  shook  him.  "  Wake  up,  Matt!"  she  com- 
manded.    "  It's  time  to  go  to  bed." 

Matt  opened  one  eye,  then  the  other.  He  stared 
meditatively  up  into  his  sister's  face.  "  Time  to  go 
to  bed?"  he  questioned  in  a  voice  perfectly  clear 
and  exquisitely  articulated.  He  appeared  to  con- 
sider the  matter  judicially.  u  Time  to  go  to  bed?, 
Time  to  go  to  bed?  All  right!  All  right!"  He 
snapped  the  right  so  straight  into  Beckie's  face  that 
she  rebounded  from  the  charge.  Suddenly  he  half 
closed  his  eyes.  The  cuLning  look  came  back  into 
his  face.  "  I'm  on  my  way!"  he  confided  impres- 
sively. Again  mirth  wiped  off  this  seriousness  and 
he  laughed.     u  Zappy-year-skerls !  "     He  roared. 

The  little  image  in  ice  that  was  Lainey  arose  from 
her  chair,  placed  itself  at  his  side.  "  Stand  up, 
Matt  dear,"  she  begged  touchingly,  u  we'll  help 
you." 

11  This  way!  "  Beckie  commanded.  She  took  one 
arm.  Lainey  took  the  other.  As  they  moved 
toward  the  hall,  Ann  fell  in  behind. 

Matt  walked  steadily  under  this  compulsion  until 
he  reached  the  hall  settle.  That  seemed  suddenly  to 
recall  his  early  struggle.  "  I  request  you,"  he  ad- 
dressed his  hat  in  the  tone  of  a  steely  courtesy,  "  to 
hang  on  that  hook.  Will  you  kindly  stay  where  I 
put  you?  "  he  remarked  to  the  coat. 

u  Up  the  stairs,  Matt  dear,"  Lainey  pleaded  as 
with  a  child. 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  231 

"All  right!"  Matt  agreed  good-naturedly.  And 
up  he  went,  leaning  first  on  Beckie,  then  on  Lainey. 
"  One  step  after  another,"  he  commented  in  a  per- 
fectly clear  voice  at  one  period  of  their  progress. 
The  clearness  vanished,  however,  as  he  proceeded 
to  embroider  this  theme.  u  Jus  think — one  step 
affer  anozzer — one-step-affer-anozzer — onestepaffer- 
anozzer." 

This  refrain  entertained  him  more  than  any  pre- 
vious one.  He  held  to  it  through  their  hobbling, 
stumbling  progress  up  the  first  flight  of  stairs, 
through  their  swaying,  weaving  march  through  the 
hall,  and  their  jerking,  battering  ascent  of  the  second 
flight.  "  Aw-ways-one-step-affer-anozzer-girls.  Jus- 
zink-of-zat-zat's-life — awways-one-step-affer-anozzer 
1 — affer-anozzer — aff-anozzer — av-anozzer — av-anoz- 
zer — sounds  like  a  biscuit." 

He  was  absolutely  docile,  however,  during  this 
excursion,  and  he  continued  to  be  docile  when  they 
reached  his  room.  Of  his  own  accord,  he  fell  imme- 
diately into  the  big  chair,  and  under  the  compulsion 
of  his  condition  into  a  deep  sleep.  Ann  removed 
his  collar  and  tie,  Beckie  his  coat  and  waistcoat, 
Lainey  his  shoes  and  stockings. 

"  That's  all  we  can  do,"  Beckie  whispered  at  the 
end  of  these  ministrations.  "  Let's  get  him  into 
bed." 

Matt  responded  to  a  violent  shaking  long  enough 
to  rise  at  their  bidding  from  the  chair,  to  navigate 
across  the  room,  to  flop  onto  the  bed  where  he  ap- 
parently fell  into  a  state  of  coma.  But  as  they 
opened  the  door,  his  eyes  opened.  "  Zappy-Year- 
skerls !  "  he  said,  "  Zapoy  skerls !  Skerls — skerls — 
sounds  like  a  fish !  "    He  dropped  his  lids  for  good. 


232  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

Beckie  was  equal  to  closing  the  door  with  calm 
and  quiet.  But  only  that.  She  flew  in  the  wake 
of  her  panic-stricken  sisters  to  the  living-room. 
The  three  girls  dropped  into  chairs  and  stared 
wide-eyed  and  gap-mouthed  at  each  other — 
panting. 

"  That's  the  most  dreadful  thing  that  ever  hap- 
pened to  me  in  my  life,"  Beckie  breathed  in  an  in- 
stant. 

"  L never  was  so  frightened  in  all  my  existence," 
Ann  intoned,  "  for  if  there's  anything  I  have  a  hor- 
ror of,  it's  a  drunken  man." 

"  Thank  God,  mother  didn't  live  to  see  this !  " 
Lainey  whispered. 

Ann's  tone  grew  bitter.     "  I  thought  all  the  terri- 
ble things  that  could  possibly  happen  to  the  Ollivai 
family  had  happened.     But  I  was  wrong,  I  see.    It 
remained  for  us  to  raise  a  drunkard." 

Lainey  set  a  hopeless  blue-gray  gaze  on  a  point 
space.     li  Who  does  he  take  it  from,  Beckie?  "  sh< 
asked  mournfully.    "  Do  you  know?  " 

11  Oh,  I  know,"  Beckie  said  in  despairing  tone. 
11  I  know.  Only  too  well.  I  hate  to  tell  you  twc 
girls  this.  Because  I  know  you've  never  realized  il 
But  I  guess  I've  got  to  so  that  you  can  get  whal 
you're  up  against.  Uncle  Warren  was  a  drunkarc 
in  his  youth.  I've  always  known  it — though  mothei 
never  knew  I  knew.  Josie  Hill  told  me  one  night 
when  she  slept  with  me.  She  was  awfully  ashamed 
the  next  day  and  made  me  promise  I  wouldn't  tell 
and  I  never  have  till  now.  Aunt  Josephine  had  ar 
awful  time  with  him  for  years.  He'd  come  home 
two  or  three  nights  a  week  that  way  and  she'd  have 
to  put  him  to  bed.    Suddenly,  without  any  warning 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  233 

he  stopped  short  though,  and  they  were  very  happy 
their  last  years  together." 

11  Poor  Aunt  Josephine ! "  Lainey  exclaimed. 
11  Poor,  poor  Auntie !  That's  why  she  had  that 
sweet,  sad,  patient  look." 

44  I  suppose  that's  the  way  Matt  will  be,"  said 
Ann.  "  Just  imagine  having  to  put  him  to  bed  two 
or  three  times  a  week.  Well,  the  boys  will  have  to 
do  it.     I  won't." 

44  I  don't  know  what  Ed  will  say,"  Beckie  went 
on  in  a  frightened  voice.  M  I'm  almost  afraid  to 
tell  him.  It  will  be  an  awful  shock  to  him.  Ed's 
so  correct  and  so  fastidious.  He'll  have  no  mercy 
on  Matt." 

"  And  Roly,"  Lainey  interpolated  somberly. 

"Thank  goodness  Roly  was  in  bed  and  asleep," 
Beckie  ejaculated.  "  We  must  keep  it  from  him 
just  as  long  as  possible — it  will  be  such  a  terrible 
example  to  him.  I  suppose  he's  bound  to  know 
some  time,  though." 

14  Yes,  don't  let  Roly  know,"  Lainey  begged. 
44  It's  awful  to  lose  your  faith  in  anybody.  I  never 
can  respect  Matt  again." 

44  Do  you  suppose,"  Ann  burst  out  in  an  accent  of 
horror,  "that  anybody  saw  him?  I  should  simply 
die  if  Mrs.  Damon  knew  it." 

44  Or  Aunt  Lottie,"  Lainey  said  in  a  kindred  hor- 
ror. "  It  would  break  her  heart.  She's  always 
Seen  so  fond  of  Matt." 

In  silence  the  three  girls  considered  these  two  pos- 
sibilities. 

14  Well,"  Ann  broke  it  abruptly,  44 1  guess  the 
best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  go  to  bed.     I'm  all  in. 


must 


234  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

This  has  been  a  swell  New  Year's  Eve  for  us,  I 
say."       ■ 

The  three  girls  filed  upstairs  on  tiptoe.  They 
whispered  their  good-nights.  They  closed  their 
doors  with  the  utmost  care,  Lainey  and  Ann  even 
undressed  in  the  dark.  Beckie,  however,  turned  on 
all  the  lights  in  her  room.  As  she  moved  about, 
undressing  and  hanging  things  up,  her  feet  were 
leaden  with  utter  exhaustion.  But,  in  bed,  new 
strength  seemed  to  come  to  her.  She  turned  and 
tossed,  tossed  and  turned,  readjusted  her  pillow  a 
dozen  times.  The  clock  struck  one,  two.  Beckie 
got  up  and  wandered  aimlessly  about  the  room. 
Suddenly  a  little  pattering  footstep  sounded  outside 
in  the  hall.  The  knob  turned.  The  door  opene< 
"Are  you  awake,  Beckie?"  Lainey's  tearful  voi< 
called.     "  Can  I  come  in?" 

"  Oh,    do    come   in,    Lainey,"   Beckie   answere< 
11  There  isn't  a  drop  of  sleep  in  my  body."     Sh< 
arose  and  lighted  the  gas. 

Lainey  appeared  in  its  illumination,  standing  in 
the  doorway.  She  wore  her  little  shabby  fur  coat 
over  her  nightgown.  Her  hair,  parted  in  the  middle 
and  combed  straight  down  over  her  ears,  fell  in  two 
flat  stiff  braids  of  pale  gold.  Its  ends,  tied  with 
blue  nursery-ribbon,  made  little  paint-brush  points 
at  her  waist.  Lainey's  eyes  were  red.  Her  mouth 
— so  deeply  hollowed  in  the  shadowy  corners, 
fully  curled  at  the  crimson  center — hung  slackly. 

11  Is  Ann  asleep?  "  Beckie  asked. 

"  Yes,  she  went  to  sleep  right  away,"  Lainey  ai 
swered  in  a  dead  voice.     "  But  I  haven't  closed  my 
eyes.     And  then  I  heard  you  get  up  and  I  thought 
probably  you  felt  the  way  I  did — you'd  rather 


an- 


.... 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  235 

with  me  than  just  lie  and  think.  Who's  that?  Oh, 
Ann,  you  frightened  me  to  death!  Oh,  Ann,  did  I 
wake  you  up?  " 

14  No,"  Ann  answered  dully.  "  I  haven't  slept.  I 
can't.  I  feel — I  feel — well,  I  haven't  felt  so  badly 
since  Matt  was  arrested  for  speeding  and  Eel 
wouldn't  bail  him  out  and  he  had  to  spend  the  night 
in  jail  among  common  criminals.  I  try  to  think 
of  other  things  and  sometimes  I  do  and  then  right  in 
the  midst  of  it,  it  all  comes  over  me — and — and — 
and,  oh,  I  feel  as  though  a  ton  of  coal  had  fallen  on 
my  mind." 

"  I've  been  thinking  too,"  Lainey  said,  "  think- 
ing and  thinking  and  thinking — turning.it  all  over. 
Isn't  there  some  way  Matt  can  be  cured?  " 

11  I've  been  wondering  about  that,"  Beckie  re- 
plied, a  little  dash  of  hope  in  her  voice.  "  Of 
course  there  are  those  places  where  you  go  and  they 
cure  you  up.  I  shall  talk  to  Ed  to-morrow  about 
sending  Matt  away  before  this  thing  grows  on  him. 
Ed  will  agree  with  me,  I  know.  If  we  have  any 
trouble  with  Matt,  I  shall  simply  insist  on  it  and, 
Lainey,  I  want  you  to  back  me  up.  If  it's  neces- 
sary, I'll  go  to  Verbeck  Wales  and  Company  and  ask 
them  to  hold  Matt's  place  open  for  him.  I'll  tell 
them  that  his  whole  future  depends  on  his  conquer- 
ing this  habit  now.  Remember,  you've  got  to  stand 
by  me,  Lainey." 

"  Oh,  I  will,  Beckie,"  Lainey  promised  with  fer- 
vor, "  I  will.  You  may  be  sure  of  that.  I've  got  a 
hundred  dollars  saved  up  towards  going  to  Europe. 
I  shall  offer  it  to  Matt.     I  shall  make  him  take  it." 

"The  trouble  with  those  cures,"  Ann  said  with 
a  tragic  pessimism,  "  is  that  they  don't  always  cure. 


lis 


236  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

Take  Miriam  Fales's  brother.     He  came  home  a 
parently  all  right  and  they  thought  the  whole  thin 
was  settled  for  keeps.     But  one  month  from 
very  day  he  came  home,  he  got  dead  drunk." 

"  I  know,"  Beckie  admitted  wanly.  "  It  didn': 
work  with  Roy  Baker,  either.  But  in  case  the  cure 
fails,  there  are  other  ways,  I'm  sure.  I  read  the 
other  day  of  a  man  who  used  to  get  drunk  and  hi 
wife  put  whiskey  in  every  bit  of  food  she  cooke 
for  him — coffee,  bread,  stew,  meat,  pie,  pudding 
everything.  Of  course  she  had  to  cook  his  foo 
separately.  But  when  he  asked  her  what  made 
everything  taste  of  whiskey,  she  lied  and  said  she 
didn't  know.  Well,  he  got  so  sick  of  the  taste  that 
he  just  naturally  stopped  drinking.  I  was  wonder- 
ing if  we  could  try  that." 

11  I'm    sure    Matt   would   get   onto    that,"    Anr 
declared  with  a  hopeless  convincedness. 

"  The  worst  of  it  is — oh,  you  two  don't  know  al 
— but  I've  got  to  tell  you — I  can't  keep  it  any  longer.' 
Lainey's  revelation  came  in  frantic  impulses  of  voice 
"  Matt  doesn't  get  it  all  from  mother's  side  of  th 
house.     I  didn't  think  I'd  tell  you  this  at  first,  bui 
I    guess (  we'd   better   know    the    whole    situation 
Father's  cousin,  Abner  Smart,  used  to  drink.    One 
while  I  was  staying  with  them  over  a  Fourth  of  Jul 
■ — oh,  I  wasn't  more  than  fourteen — he  came  horn 
drunk  as  a  lord.    His  lodge  was  having  some  son 
of  celebration.     Cousin  Lily  was  awfully  mortifiec 
and,  of  course,  I  was  scared  almost  out  of  my  fiv 
senses.     She  begged  me  not  to  tell  anybody  and 
never  have.     And  I  never  would  now,   if  Cousin 
Abner  wasn't  dead.     So  you  see,  Matt  gets  it  fron 
father's  side  of  the  family  as  well  as  mother's." 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  237 

1 

11  I  never  suspected  Cousin  Abner,"  Beckie  said. 
44  It'll  be  doubly  strong  with  Matt  then,  I  suppose, " 
she  sighed  a  long  heavy  sigh,  "  with  two  inheritances 
like  that.  Well,  all  I  can  say  is  what  you  said, 
Lainey,  I'm  glad  mother  didn't  live  to  see  this  night." 

11  What  shall  we  do?  "  Lainey  asked  helplessly. 

"  I  guess  we'd  better  go  back  to  bed,  for  one 
thing,"  Ann  answered  with  a  sudden  weary  burst  of 
impatience.  "  It  doesn't  do  any  good  to  chew  it  over 
like  this.  And  we  certainly  can't  do  anything  to- 
night." 

"  All  right,  Ann,"  Lainey  agreed  with  her  accus- 
tomed docility. 

14  Good-night,  Ann,"  Beckie  said  sadly.  u  Good- 
night, Lainey." 

"  Good-night,  Beckie,"  her  sisters  chorused  deso- 
lately. 

Ann,  in  the  little  wooden  shoes  which  Aunt  Lottie 
had  brought  her  from  Holland,  clattered  back  to  her 
room ;  and  Lainey,  in  the  little  straw  scuffs  which  she 
had  bought  in  Chinatown,  shuffled  behind  her.  The 
two  girls  got  back  into  bed. 

44  Good-night,  Lainey  dear,"  Ann  concluded  trag- 
ically. 

"  Good-night,  Ann  darling,"  Lainey  answered 
mournfully. 

Lainey  lay  for  a  long  interval  perfectly  straight 
and  rigid.  Then,  no  sound  coming  from  Ann's  side 
of  the  bed,  she  began  to  submit  to  the  nervous  pres- 
sure which  was  shooting  her  arms  and  legs  in  all 
directions  from  her  body.  Finally,  she  lifted  herself 
up,  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  for  a  while,  arose, 
walked  over  to  the  window. 

The  moon  had  disappeared,  but  all  the  stars  ban- 


C4. 

o 


238  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

ished  by  its  light  had  reappeared.  They  hung  close 
over  the  pearly  glisten  of  the  snow.  Lainey's  ex- 
hausted tear-wet  gaze  wandered  into  that  shoal  of 
tiny  fires,  tangled  there. 

Suddenly  her  door  pushed  open. 

11  Is  that  you,  Lainey?  "  Beckie's  voice  called  in  a 
faint  wisp  of  a  whisper.    "  Can  I  come  in?  ' 

14  Yes,"   Lainey  answered  in   a   thin   thread  o 
sound.     44  No,  I'll  come  to  your  room,  so's  not  to 
wake  Ann." 

44  I'm  awake,"  Ann  interrupted  in  a  mere  ripple  o 
voice.     u  I  can't  sleep.     I've  been  keeping  still  so's 
not  to  wake  you,  Lainey." 

Lainey  pulled  down  the  shades  and  lighted  the  ga 

Beckie  had  wound  her  long  hair  into  a  grotesque 
knot,  had  skewered  it  with  a  single  hairpin  to  the 
top  of  her  head.  She  had  evidently  put  on  the  first 
thing  in  the  closet  that  her  flying  fingers  had  found — 
a  mackintosh.  Beckie's  eyes  glared  in  her  face 
Her  teeth  tore  at  her  lips.  Her  hands  plucked 
each  other. 

44  I  can't  get  my  mind  off  it,"  Beckie  declared 
wildly,   44  seems  as  if  I  had  no  control  over  m 
thoughts." 

44 1   can't,    either,"   Lainey   admitted   franticall 
44  My  head  is  going  round  like  a  top." 

44 1    don't   believe    I    ever'll    sleep    again,"    A 
prophesied  crazily.    "  Think  of  having  a  sot  in  the 
family!" 

44  I've  been  wondering,"  with  an  obvious  effort, 
Lainey  pulled  herself  together,  44  if  there  wasn't  some 
other  way  of  handling  this  situation.  Couldn't  we 
make  home  so  attractive  to  Matt  that  he'd  want  to 
spend  his  evenings  here.     Then   he   couldn't 


" 


T 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  239 

drunk.  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  a  good  scheme 
to  have  some  parties,  for  instance,  and  invite  all  the 
people  he  likes.'' 

At  the  word  parties  a  little  fire  of  animation  flared 
in  Ann's  face.  "  I  think  that's  a  wonderful  idea," 
she  approved  with  a  tiny  jet  of  vivacity. 

"  Because,"  Lainey  went  on  earnestly,  "  there's 
nothing  really  criminal  about  Matt.  He  likes  nice 
girls  and  harmless  times  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
I  think  that  with  care  we  could  wean  him  from  his 
present  associates,  whatever  they  are.  For  I'm  sure 
somebody's  responsible  for  his  downfall.  Matt's 
such  a  good  boy." 

"  Oh,  take  it  from  me,  it's  that  crowd  of  Alice 
Downing's,"  Ann  interpolated  with  a  touch  of  her 
natural  causticity.  "  I  don't  like  them  and  never 
did." 

11 1  agree  with  you,"  Beckie  said  stoutly.  "  It's 
not  Matt.  It's  the  influences  about  him.  Matt  is 
naturally  a  good  boy.  He  never  would  get  drunk 
if  somebody  hadn't  tempted  him.  And  probably  it 
was  a  woman.  Well,  I  guess  that's  what  we'd  better 
try  to  do — to  look  after  his  evenings.  I  think  that's 
a  splendid  idea,  Lainey  dear.  I  feel  a  lot  better. 
I  guess  I'll  go  to  bed.  I  think  I  can  sleep  now. 
Good-night,  Lainey.     Good-night,  Ann." 

"  Good-night,  Beckie,"  her  sisters  chorused. 

Ann  took  her  place  on  the  inside  of  the  bed. 
Lainey  took  her  place  on  the  outside.  For  a  long 
while,  Ann  lay  perfectly  silent,  snuggled  into  the 
little  round  kitten-like  heap  into  which  she  always 
fell.  Then,  suddenly  she  began  to  tremble.  The 
trembling  became  a  frantic  shaking.  She  pulled 
herself  up  with  an  elaborate  care,  climbed  cautiously 


240  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

over  Lainey,  snatched  a  covering  from  the  couch,  ran 
to  the  door,  rushed  with  an  accelerating  speed  to 
Beckie's  room. 

11  Beckie,  Beckie,"  she  called,  the  pulses  of  panic 
beating  in  her  voice.  "  Are  you  awake?  I'm  com- 
ing in." 

"  Yes,  I'm  awake.  I  haven't  slept,"  Beckie  ad- 
mitted wearily.  "  Oh,  Ann,  you  mustn't  take  it  so 
hard."     She  pulled  her  sister  down  on  the  bed. 

Two  short,  thick  braids  of  chestnut  hair  fell,  one 
on  each  side  of  Ann's  face.  Ann's  hair  was  not 
nearly  so  thick  as  Lainey's,  but  it  seemed  thicker 
because  it  was  coarser.  There  were  broad  pale-pink 
ribbons  on  the  ends  of  her  braids  and  broad  pale- 
pink  ribbons  on  her  nightgown.  No  matter  what 
Ann's  state  of  mind,  she  always  prepared  herself 
for  bed  as  for  a  state  function.  She  had  thrown 
over  her  nightgown  an  old  camel's-hair  shawl  oi 
cream  and  dull  blue,  which  had  been  her  mother's. 
One  corner  dipped  over  her  forehead.  Huddle< 
and  shaking  in  the  shawl,  her  face  with  its  big  dark 
mournful  eyes,  its  white  skin,  blanched  of  its  vel- 
vety wild-rose  color  beginning,  in  spite  of  her  un- 
flawed  youth  to  show  black  shadowings  of  the  night'i 
strain — she  looked  like  some  tragic  girl-peasant. 

u  Don't  let  Lainey  hear  us,"  Ann   said  in  the 
midst  of  a  volley  of  sobs.    "  Oh,  is  that  you,  Lainey 
Haven't  you  slept,  either?" 

"  I  couldn't  sleep  if  my  life  depended  on  it," 
Lainey  announced  in  a  stony  voice.  She  sat  down 
beside  Ann,  threw  her  arms  about  her.  "  Don't 
cry,  Ann,"  she  implored.     "  Please  don't  cry." 

"  I  can!t  stand  it  any  longer,"  Ann  sobbed.  "  I 
think  of  Matt  up  there — sleeping  in  his  clothes — 


3 
5 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  241 

d-d-d-dead  d-d-d-drunk.  I's  so  afraid  it's  a  jug-jug- 
jug-judgment  on  me.  The  last  thing  I  said  be-b- 
before  he  came  into  the  house  was  that  if  there  was 
a  b-b-b-bottle  of  ch-ch-ch-champagne  here  I'd  drink 
it  all.  I'm  going  to  sign  the  p-p-p-pledge  to-mor- 
row." 

"  Of  course  it's  not  a  judgment  on  you,  Ann," 
Beckie  said  indignantly.  "  If  it's  anything,  it's  the 
sins  of  the  fathers.  I'm  glad  you're  crying,  though. 
It  will  relax  that  awful  t-t-t-tension."  Beckie's  own 
voice  quivered. 

"Yes,  Ann,"  Lainey  reinforced  'her  sister, 
"  Beckie's  right.  It  will  do  you  good  to  cry.  Cry 
all  you  want  to.  Cr-cr-cry  till  you  c-c-can't  cry  any 
more."     Lainey's  own  accent  began  to  break. 

"  Now,  we'll  all  feel  better,"  Beckie  said  after  a 
while.     "  I  guess  we  can  sleep  now." 

Yes,  Ann  dear,"  Lainey  took  up  Beckie's  plea. 
11  See,  the  light's  beginning  to  come  in  the  window. 
Let's  go  back  to  bed." 

"  All  right,"  Ann  said  with  unaccustomed  docility. 
"  Good-night,  Beckie,"  she  added  mournfully. 

"  Good-night,  Ann,"  Beckie  answered  sadly. 
11  Good-night,  Lainey." 

"  Good-night,  Beckie,"  Lainey  replied  desolately. 

Outside  the  air  of  that  first  day  of  the  new  year 
seemed  to  flash  and  sparkle.  A  golden  sun  was^ 
pouring  flame  jewels  through  the  still  clearness. 
A  blue  sky  dropped  blue  shadows  onto  a  white 
world.  Snow-birds  cluttered  and  fluttered.  Sleigh- 
bells  caroled  and  chimed.  Snow-shovels  scraped  and 
grated.  Occasionally  snow  fell  from  peaked  gables 
with  a  long  steady  roar.    Occasionally  icicles  broke 


242  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

with  a  short  brittle  clink.  From  everywhere  rang 
the  cries  of  the  coasters.  From  everybody  came  the 
call,  "Happy  New  Year!" 

Inside,  the  three  girls — pale-faced,  wan-eyed,  slow- 
motioned — went  through  the  movements  of  getting 
breakfast. 

14  I'm  trying  to  think  how  to  break  it  to  Ed," 
Beckie  said.  "  I  expect  it'll  about  half  kill  him — 
the  disgrace  and  everything.  I  never  dreaded  any- 
thing so  in  my  life." 

"When  is  he  coming  home?"  Lainey  inquired 
listlessly. 

"Any  moment  now.  He  said  he'd  be  here  for 
breakfast.  A  box  just  came  addressed  to  Matt.  I 
wonder  what  it  was?  I  put  it  upstairs  against  his 
door.    There,  there's  Ed  now." 

Ed's  key  cut  cleanly  into  the  lock.  The  three 
girls  stood  for  an  instant  petrified. 

"  Is  that  you,  Ed?  "  Beckie  quavered.     "  Oh,  he's 
going  upstairs  first,"  Ann  whispered.     "  He'll  wak 
Matt,"  Lainey  hissed. 

Beckie  fired.    "  Well,  perhaps  Matt  will  have  the 
manhood   to    confess   what   he's   done.     But 
Panic   seized   her.      " — we'd  better   go    up    there. 
There's  no  knowing  what  might  happen." 

The  three  girls  hurried  out  into  the  hall.  The 
defiant  Beckie  in  the  van,  the  listless  Lainey  in  the 
rear,  the  cowering  Ann  between,  they  stole  up  the 
two  flights  of  stairs.  In  the  upper  hallway,  Beckie 
paused,  her  finger  at  her  lip.  Involuntarily,  they  put 
their  arms  round  each  other,  set  to  statue  stillness. 

From  the  boys'  room  came  not  only  Ed's  clear 
voice,  but  Roly's  sleepy  accent  and  Matt's  sleepier 
one. 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  243 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Matt?"  Ed  de- 
manded with  the  flattering  frankness  of  brothers, 
"  You  look  like  something  the  cat  brought  in." 

"  I  feel  worse  than  that,"  Matt  admitted.  "  Get 
me  some  water,  will  you,  Roly?  And  say,  let  me 
have  the  first  bath,  will  you,  Ed?  " 

Matt  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  his  head  in  his 
hands.  His  lack-luster  hollowness  showed  a  marked 
contrast  to  Ed's  equable  tinting.  Ed's  freshness  was 
of  the  kind  that  no  amount  of  late  hours  ever  seemed 
to  dim,  but  to-day  even  Ed  looked  a  little  sunken. 
Roly,  still  in  his  pajamas,  showed  the  freshened  col- 
oring of  twelve  hours'  sleep. 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  go  to  bed  with  your 
clothes  on?  "  Ed  inquired  calmly.     "  Splifflicated?  " 

"Search  me,"  Matt  said.  "Yes,  I  must 
have  been  jagged  last  night.  I  can't  seem  to 
remember  anything  about  it.  I  went  off  with  some 
people " 

"Alice  Downing's  crowd?"  Ed  questioned  idly, 
smashing  his  thick  golden  hair  with  smart  slapping 
strokes  from  two  military  brushes. 

"  No,  I  don't  know  who — a  gang  of  fellows — 
three  drummers  in  the  hardware  business  that  Gus 
Clark  introduced  me  to.  We  went — well,  I  don't 
know  where — and  did — well,  I  don't  know  what. 
And  I  got  home — well,  I  don't  remember  when — and 
got  to  bed — well,  I  don't  remember  how.  Did  you 
put  me  to  bed,  Roly?  " 

"  No." 

"  Then  the  girls  must  have." 

"  You  were  soused  all  right,"  Roly  grinned 
broadly.  "  I  heard  the  girls  helping  you  upstairs. 
I  was  too  sleepy  to  get  up.     You  were  saying  some- 


, 


244  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

thing  about  one  foot  after  the  other — over  and  over 
again." 

"  Gee,"  Matt  said,  M  I  must  have  been  pickled." 

11  You  ought  not  to  have  come  home  drunk,"  Ed 
rebuked  his  brother.  "  I  should  have  thought  you'd 
have  known  better  than  that.  You  must  have  fright- 
ened the  girls  half  to  death.  You  know  women  are 
all  bugs  on  this  question.  They'll  have  you  in  the 
D.  T.  ward  inside  of  a  week."  He  turned  to  Roly. 
"  Remember,  kid,  if  you  ever  get  drunk — don't 
come  home.  Go  somewhere.  Go  anywhere — and 
stay  there — but  dorit  come  home!" 

"  I'll  never  get  drunk,"  Roly  growled.  "  I  hate 
the  taste  of  the  stuff." 

"  I  didn't  intend  to  get'tight,  Ed,"  Matt  said.  "  It 
was  an  accident.  Generally,  you  know  three  drinks 
make  me  so  uncomfortable  I  don't  want  any  more. 
Lord,  I'm  sorry.  I  wouldn't  have  thrown  a  scare 
into  the  girls  for  anything.    What'll  I  say  to  them?  " 

M  Don't  say  anything.  Let  them  do  the  talking. 
They'll  talk  all  right.  If  they  don't  pack  you  off  to 
a  cure,  you're  lucky." 

"Now,  how  did  it  happen?"  Matt  interrogated 
himself  irritably.  He  clutched  his  head  and  thought 
hard.  "  Seems  to  me  somebody  mixed  up  a  glass 
of  beer,  cocktails,  whiskey,  gin,  and  every  other  damn 
thing  in  sight  and  dared  me  to  drink  it.  I  did — and 
I  went  out  soon  after." 

"  You  kept  saying,  '  Happy  New  Year,  skerls ! ' 
coming  up  the  stairs,"  said  Roly,  still  papably  enjoy- 
ing his  brother's  situation. 

"  Gee!  "  Matt  said,  "  I  must  have  been  stewed." 

11  The  first  time  I  ever  got  loaded,"  Ed  remarket 
reminiscently,    u  I    came    home   too.     Fortunately, 


rked 
tely, 


Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine  245 

father  and  mother  were  away.  Perhaps  it  was  just 
as  well,  because  it  bothered  me  so,  I  never — well, 
I've  always  kept  watch  on  myself  ever  since.  Oh 
say,  Matt,  here's  a  box  I  found  outside.  It's  ad- 
dressed to  you." 

Matt  languidly  untied  the  string,  tore  away  the 
paper,  lifted  the  cover.  "  My  shoes ! "  he  ex- 
claimed.    "  Why,  where'd  they  come  from?     What 

did  I  wear "     He  peered  about  on  the  floor. 

"Where'd  I  get  those  shoes?  Say,  I  must  have 
bought  myself  a  new  pair  of  shoes.  Look  at  them ! 
Well,  I'll  be—  Swell-looking  kicks  all  right! 
What  did  I  pay  for  them?"  He  hunted  languidly 
for  the  slip.  "  Twelve  dollars.  Twelve  dollars! 
I  can't  afford  to  buy  twelve-dollar  shoes.  Hell,  I'd 
just  bought  myself  one  new  pair !  " 

"  You  get  drunk  often  enough,"  Ed  promised, 
"  and  you'll  be  one  of  our  classiest  dressers !  " 

11  Gee !  "  Matt  said,  "  I  must  have  been  pie-eyed." 

Their  arms  about  each  other,  the  girls  still  stood 
frozen,  a  little  Niobe  group  of  terror. 

Suddenly  Ann  looked  at  Beckie.  Beckie  looked 
at  Lainey.  Lainey  looked  at  Ann.  A  quiver  zig- 
zagged across  Lainey's  face.  It  flashed  through 
the  air  and  spread  to  a  ripple  at  Ann's  generous 
mouth.  The  ripple  widened,  caught  on  Beckie's  wan 
look,  broke  into  a  smile.  Beckie  covered  her  lips 
with  a  smothering  hand.  Ann  filled  her  mouth  with 
a  gagging  handkerchief.  Lainey  dropped  her  head 
to  an  inhibiting  shoulder.  Suddenly  the  group  broke 
apart.  The  fragments  made  silently  down  the 
stairs.  In  the  living-room,  Ann  threw  herself  on 
one  chair  and  laughed.     Beckie  threw  herself  on  an- 


246  Matt  Looks  upon  the  Wine 

other  chair  and  cried.     Lainey  fell  on  the  couch  and 
both  laughed  and  cried. 

When  the  three  brothers  came  down  the  stairs, 
the  girls  had  set  the  table.  "  Happy  New  Year, 
skerls !  "  Roly  called.  "  Happy  New  Year,  spoys !  " 
Ann  answered.    "  Come  to  breakfast!  " 

Mutual  understanding  wrapped  the  Ollivant  fam- 
ily in  its  peace. 


CHAPTER  XI 

.      BECKIE  HEARS  HER  MOTHER'S  VOICE 

<(IT  TELL,  but  Beckie"  Ann  was  saying  and  the 
V  V  degree  of  her  exasperation  could  be  gauged 
to  a  nicety  by  the  degree  of  her  emphasis,  "  every- 
body dances  the  new  dances  now.  They  aren't  called 
the  new  dances  any  longer.  It  was  all  right  to  stand 
out  against  them  two  years  ago.  In  fact,  it  was 
rather  smart.  Everybody  was  doing  it !  But  now — 
good  gracious — nobody's  doing  it.  Why,  people  will 
look  upon  you  as  a  fossil  and  a  bonehead." 

Her  authoritative  manner — Ann  sat  very  straight 
as  she  delivered  this  pronunciamento — her  working- 
clothes — plain  skirt  and  middy-blouse  of  khaki — gave 
her  a  look  of  severity.  But  that  look  was  nullified 
by  a  smile — ill-suppressed — of  delightful  anticipa- 
tion on  her  red  mouth  and  a  flash — not  suppressed  at 
all — of  rapturous  excitement  in  her  golden  eyes. 

Beckie  was  also  in  the  clothes  sacred  to  the  morn- 
ings of  Sundays  and  holidays.  An  apron,  full,  long, 
all-enveloping,  with  big  pockets  at  the  sides,  con- 
cealed the  sturdy  active  lines  of  her  figure.  A  little 
sweeping-cap  of  dotted  white  muslin  held  flat  every 
red-gold  coil,  every  bronze-brown  loop  of  her  mahog- 
any-colored hair.  She,  too,  sat  very  straight,  but 
the  flash  that  came  into  her  eyes  was  pure  indigna- 
tion. "  Nevertheless,''  she  asserted,  "  I  shall  never 
dance  them." 

247 


248     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

"  Oh,  Beck,  if  you  aren't  a  scream !  "  Ann  com- 
mented absently.  "  Oh,  thank  goodness,  here's 
Matt.  Sit  down  in  that  seat,  Matt,  and  don't  move 
out  of  it." 

"  Ed  isn't  here  yet,"  Matt  remonstrated.  He 
passed  his  hand  over  the  faint,  reddish-gold  stubble 
on  his  chin.  "  Say,  while  you're  waiting  for  Ed,  let 
me  go  upstairs  and  shave." 

"  You  don't  leave  this  room,  one  of  you,  once 
get  you  here,"  Ann  said  in  a  relentless  voice. 

11  I've  never  thought  you'd  desert  me,  Lainey, 
Beckie  went  on.  M  Why,  when  I  saw  you  fojx-tro 
ting  the  other  night " 


I 


Lainey    in    morning    costume    too — long,    slim, 
straight    Chinese    sa'am    in    a    strange    old   green, 
pointed,  heelless  Turkish  slippers  in  a  gold-embroid- 
ered scarlet,  her  filmy  hair,  hanging  in  a  loosely 
woven  braid  to  her  waist — smiled  radiantly. 

"  I'm  crazy  about  them,  Beck,"  she  admitte< 
"  They're  so — so — so,  well,  I  don't  know  how  to  d( 
scribe  it — so  exhilarating,  so  full  of  variety  and  a< 
tion.  You  feel  almost  as  though  you  were  makii 
a  design  when  you  do  them." 

"  You  may  feel  exhilarated,"  Beckie  said,  "  bi 
I'd  hate  to  tell  you  how  you  look.  I  don't  kno^ 
what  mother  would  say." 

11  She'd     probably    say "     interrupted    Anr 

"  Oh,  thank  goodness,  here's  Ed." 

Ed,    the   coolly-colored   and   finely-chiseled;   Ec 
the  freshly-shaven  and  sartorially-trim ;  Ed,  the  hanc 
some,  frigid,  and  impeccable,  entered  at  a  saunte 
"  Now,  what's  all  this  about?  "  he  asked  as  he  seate  ! 
himself  on  the  couch. 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     249 

"  I'll  tell  you  as  soon  as  Roly  gets  through  his 
breakfast,"  Ann  said. 

"  I've  nearly  finished,"  Roly  called  from  the  din- 
ing-room. "  Go  on  without  me.  I  can  hear  what 
you're  saying." 

"  I'll  wait  until  you  finish,"  Ann  said  with  weary 
patience.  "  If  I  start  now,  I  know  you'll  interrupt, 
calling  for  everything  you  can  think  of." 

"  All  right,"  Roly  said  with  an  unexpected  alacrity. 
u  Just  to  prove  that  I'm  a  sport,  I'll  come  right  now 
in  my  half-starved  condition."  He  looked  long- 
ingly, however,  at  the  coffee-cup  drained  to  a  half- 
inch  residuum  of  sugar,  the  grapefruit  shell  scraped 
to  a  white  dryness,  the  big  bowl  emptied  of  a  heaped 
abundance  of  breakfast-food  and  the  plate  cleaned 
of  a  generous  helping  of  ham  and  eggs.  Finally,  as 
one  who  tops  off  with  a  delicate  morsel,  he  seized 
a  banana  and  ate  it  in  ravenous  mouthfuls  as  he 
strolled  into  the  living-room. 

Raven-black  as  to  hair  and  brows,  coffee-brown 
as  to  eyes  and  skin,  satin-smooth  as  to  texture,  but 
boyishly  heavy  as  to  expression  and  boyishly  inde- 
terminate as  to  feature,  Roly  seated  himself  between 
the  golden-topped  Ed  and  the  copper-crested  Matt. 

Ann  heaved  a  long  sigh.  "  I've  got  you  together 
at  last!  And  heaven  knows  it's  been  some  job  find- 
ing a  time  when  I  could  herd  you  into  one  room.  If 
a  holiday  hadn't  come  along,  I  don't  know  what  I 
should  have  done — and  that  alone  ought  to  convince 
you  that  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  is  the  truth — 
all  of  us  having  different  work  and  different  friends 
and  different  engagements  and  different  everything, 
not  to  speak  of " 

11  Oh,  for  the  love  of  Mike,  Ann,"  Ed  broke  out 


250     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

impatiently.     "  I've  got  an  engagement.     I've  got 

to  be  down " 

11  There,  there  you  are  again !  "  Ann  interrupted 
with  a  pessimistic  triumph.    "  You  want  me  to  hurry 
up.     You  always  do.     You've  got  an  engagement. 
You  always  have.     Everybody  else  is  going  some- 
where.    They  always  are.     That's  the  reason  I've 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  something's  got  to  be 
done  about  this  house.     You  all  act  as  though  you 
were  doing  one-night  stands  and  this  was  a  bum 
hotel  you  were  staying  at.     Not  that  I  blame  you. 
It's   so   shabby   and   dingy   and   old-fashioned  and 
horrid  that — well,  it's  just  got  to  be  fixed  up — that's 
all  there  is  to  that.     You  remember  that,  over  a 
year  ago,  soon  after  mother  died,  when  you  decided 
that  you'd  let  me  leave  school  and  take  charge  of  the 
housekeeping,  we  made  a  great  many  very  gran 
plans  about  doing  the  house  over.     And  we  did  d< 
a  few,  dinky,  little  things.     For  one  thing,  we  go 
rid  of  that  fierce  ark  of  a  black  walnut  sideboar 
and  put  up  shelves.     Then  we  had  it  all  planned  f 
Beckie  to  move  out  of  the  big  front  room  into  our 
room,  and  for  Lainey  and  me  to  move  into  the  bac 
room  and  fix  up  the  big  front  room  into  a  living-roor 
for  you  boys.    Well,  did  we  do  that?    Yes,  we  di 
— not!}    Ann  swept  the  circle  with  a  withering  glance 
She  made  no  effort  to  suppress  the  golden  scorn  th 
flared  in  her  eyes.     The  flare  died  down,  howeve 
as  she  continued  equably,  "  And  a  good  thing,  to 
because  all  my  ideas  then  were  fierce.     Green  wick 
and  Navajo  rugs  and  pink,  red,  blue,  yellow,  and 
green  bedrooms.     You  see  Bird  has  taught  me 
lot  about  interior  decoration  and  now  I  see  what 
place  really  needs!* 


J 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     251 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  Ed  said  in  his  most  icy  tone, 
14  that  Bird  Barton  has  put  a  good  many  ideas  into 
your  head." 

"  Bird  puts  ideas  into  everybody's  head."  Lainey 
rushed  to  the  defense  of  her  friend.  "  She  can't  help 
it.  She's  so  full  of  originality  it  just  bubbles  over 
onto  other  people." 

"  Bird  admits,"  Ann  explained — again  with  pa- 
tience, the  noble  patience  of  the  reformer  this  time 
— "  that  ever  since  she  entered  this  house,  her  fingers 
have  itched  to  get  at  it.  She  says  that  the  lines  and 
proportions  of  it  are  perfectly  beautiful,  but  that 
the  things  in  it  are — she's  right  too.  Nobody 
knows  that  any  better  than  I  do.  I  loathe  it.  Well, 
just  to  show  you  how  I  feel  about  this  joint — I  won't 
go  to  call  on  that  wonderful-looking  Mrs.  Farring- 
ton  who's  taken  the  Smedley  place  just  because  I'm 
ashamed  to  have  her  come  here  and  see  this  awful 
furniture.  I  should  simply  pass  away  when  I  saw 
her  looking  at  that  terrible  oak  combination  of  desk, 
bookcase  and  plate-rack  in  the  dining-room.  What 
first  put  me  onto  that  was  once  when  Mrs.  Peabody 
called  and  I  got  the  expression  on  her  face  when  she 
piped  it.  I  knew  she  was  counting  the  mirrors  in 
it." 

Ed  contemplated  his  youngest  sister  with  the  quiz- 
zical amusement  which  was  the  sunniest  aspect  of  his 
formal  blonde  regularity.  "  So  you've  chosen  the 
nineteenth  of  April  for  this  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence? " 

"  I've  chosen  it,"  Ann  declared  hastily,  "  because 
it's  a  holiday  and  the  only  time  I  could  get  all  of  you 
together." 

The  note  of  rebellion  inside  was  echoed  by  the  note 


252     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

of  rebellion  outside.  Huge,  black,  bullet-like  rain- 
drops were  drawing  thousands  of  inky  lines  across 
the  landscape,  reducing  the  fresh  green  of  the  park 
and  yard  and  lawns,  the  warm  brown  of  the  streets 
and  paths  and  alleys,  the  faded  colorings  of  the 
pleasant  old  houses  to  a  vague,  moist,  composite 
smudge.  Overhead  was  a  sky  black  and  hard  as 
iron.  In  spots  the  iron  thinned  and  lightened  to 
silver.  At  times  the  sun  would  melt  a  hole  in  that 
silver  and  pour  cataracts  of  boiling  gold  over  its 
edges.  Then  the  bullet-drops  would  change  to  a 
faint  dallying  mist.  The  whole  world  would  whirl 
in  a  golden  glitter.  Dapples  of  blue,  incredibly  soft 
and  tender,  would  spot  the  sky.  An  instant  of  this 
splendor,  then  the  silver  edges  came  together,  thick- 
ened to  iron,  the  blue  dapples  disappeared,  the  thud 
ding  downpour  would  begin  again. 

11  Oh,  what  a  wonderful  day !  "  Lainey  said  dream 
ily.     "  It  doesn't  know  what  it's  going  to  do  fro 
one  moment  to  the  next.    But  it's  doing  something. 
Oh,  I  can't  express  it  exactly,  but  it  makes  you  under- 
stand rebellion  and  revolution.'* 

Ann  groaned.  "  Oh,  for  goodness'  sake,  Lainey, 
don't  get  started  on  Socialism.  What  has  weather 
to  do  with  anything  like  that?  " 

"  If  we  decided  to  make  the  changes,"  Ed  inter 
posed  artfully,  "  what  is  it  you  propose  and  what's 
the  damage?  " 

Ann  took  a  paper  from  a  table  beside  her.  It 
was  covered  at  one  edge  with  neat  lines  of  writing 
and  at  the  other  with  trim  files  of  figures.  Evidently 
she  knew  these  statistics  by  heart;  for  although  she 
held  the  paper  in  her  hand,  she  did  not  look  at  it. 
11 1  want  first "  she  began. 


■ 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     253 

11  Oh,  say,  I'm  not  going  to  stay  through  all  this 
truck,"  Roly  protested,  "  I  don't  care  what  you  do 
with  the  house.     Besides,  Dink  and  I  are " 

11  Oh — well — go !  "  Ann  ordered.  Apparently  too 
indignant  for  articulateness,  she  watched  Roly  hurry 
through  the  dining-room,  seize  one  more  banana,  and 
depart  eating  it.  But  her  powers  of  expression  came 
back  with  a  rush  when  the  door  closed.  "  I  do 
think,"  she  said  as  one  who,  after  years  of  careful 
research,  lays  down  an  important  dictum,  "  that  boys 
are  the  most  degraded  of  God's  creatures.  We 
were  taught  in  zoology  that  an  ameba  was  the 
original  low-brow — but  what  the  most  ignorant 
ameba  that  ever  lived  has  on  Roly  I'd  like  to  know. 
Still,"  she  added  with  another  one  of  her  sudden 
drops  to  equability,  "  I'm  glad  he's  gone.  What 
good  would  he  be  in  an  esthetic  discussion  like  this? 
Now,  to  begin  with,  I  want  this  house  to  be  re- 
papered  and  repainted  from  top  to  bottom." 

"Excuse  me  one  moment,  Ann,"  Matt  said  se- 
riously. "  I'd  just  like  to  ask  you  what  you  think 
your  last  name  is — Morgan  or  Rockefeller?  " 

Ann's  little  teeth  came  together  in  a  click  of  exas- 
peration. "  I  knew  some  knock  like  that  was  com- 
ing. Of  course,  it  wouldn't  occur  to  any  of  you  to 
wait  until  I  told  you  a  few  things.  I  know  just  as  well 
as  you  that  it  sounds  as  though  I  wanted  to  spend 
the  whole  Rockefeller  Foundation.  But  if  you'll 
only  listen  to  me  as  long  as  three  minutes  without 
interrupting,  although — "  she  stopped  and  shot 
her  golden  glare  about  the  circle — "  I  know  that  will 
strain  your  breeding  to  the  utmost,  you  will'see  that 
it  is  not  going  to  be  so  expensive  as  it  sounds.  Now, 
for  instance "    She  was  at  equilibrium  again  and 


254     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

running  at  full  speed.  "  You  remember  that  time 
Bird  and  I  went  through  the  attic,  looking  for  the 
silver  service.  Well,  just  the  little  rummaging  we 
did  then  convinced  Bird  that  there  were  all  kinds  of 
things  up  there  that  were  wonderful.  Well,  she  and 
I  have  been  exploring  Saturday  afternoons  and  Sun- 
days ever  since,  cleaning  the  place  up,  throwing  out 
old  truck  and  digging  up  stuff  that  we  could  use  and 
planning  what  we  could  do  with  it." 

Matt  groaned.  "  I  bet  there  won't  be  a  comfort- 
able chair  in  the  house." 

"  There,  there  you  go  again."  Ann's  eyes  shot 
another  succession  of  golden  lightnings  through  the 
group.  "  Handing  out  the  knocks  before  you  know 
anything  about  it." 

"  Shut  up,  Matt!"  Ed  ordered  good-naturedly. 
"  Go  on,  kid!"  he  said  to  his  sister.  "What  did 
you  find?  " 

"  Well,  in  some  ways  it  was  a  disappointment. 
Of  course,  I  had  a  vision — and  so  did  Bird — of  an- 
cestral mahogany,  silver,  glass,  pewter,  Chippendale, 

Sheraton,    Hepplewhite "      Ann    waved    these 

exotics  of  a  new  vocabulary  with  a  nonchalance  more 
impressive  than  triumphal  banners.  "  Well,  nothing 
like  that  materialized — only  one  old  couch,  broken 
and  pretty  shabby — Sheraton  though  and  Bird  says 

it's   a   wonder.     We're   going  to   put  that  in 

But  to  go  on — we  found  a  beautiful  old  bureau  of 
mahogany   and   maple    with  the    original   brasses. 

We're  going  to  put  that  in Oh,  I'll  come  to  that 

later.  Then  we  discovered  a  set  of  old  Windsor 
chairs  with  nine  sticks  at  the  back — Bird  says  they're 

rather  uncommon.    We're  going  to  put  those  in 

But  I'll  come  back  to  them.    And  what  do  you  think? 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     255 

Bird  said — you  never  saw  anything  like  Bird — and 
stuck  to  it  that  there  ought  to  be  a  maple  table 
somewhere  to  match  those  chairs.  We  hunted  high 
and  low — it  wasn't  in  the  house  anywhere.  But 
Bird  is  a  perfect  ferret  where  old  furniture  is  con- 
cerned. Where  do  you  suppose  we  found  it?  In 
the  woodshed  behind  that  fierce  old  wardrobe  that's 
been  there  since  the  year  one.  That  table  is  a  per- 
fect pippin,  hexagonal  in  shape  and  duck  feet.  Bird 
says  it  will  finish  up  gloriously  like  old-gold  satin. 

We're  going  to  put  that  in But  first  let  me  tell 

you — of  course  we  found  other  things  in  the  attic — 
I  mean  bric-a-brac.  But  I  want  to  go  on  about  our 
plans." 

Lainey  actually  bounced.  "  Ann,  if  you  stop  one 
instant  I  shall  burst,"  she  said.  "  And  you  haven't 
finished  a  single  sentence."  Her  deep-set,  blue-gray 
eyes  had  begun  to  shine  with  the  liquid  light  of  her 
excitement.  Even  Ed  and  Matt,  though  by  this  time 
smoking  calmly,  had  begun  to  show  a  conservative 
masculine  excitement.  "  Go  on!  "  Ed  urged.  And, 
"  We're  listening,"  Matt  prodded. 

Beckie  alone  sat  very  still  and  straight  in  her 
chair. 

"  In  the  first  place "  Ann  began.  Under  en- 
couragement, her  manner  had  assumed  a  bustling 
importance.  "  We  want  to  repaper  these  rooms  in 
a  plain  cartridge.  I  hope  I  don't  have  to  tell  you 
that  this  kind  of  paper,  big-figured  like  that,  is  an 
offense  against  art.  If  I  could  have  my  way  I'd 
have  gold  paper  and  black  paint;  for  I  simply  adore 
gold.  But  that  would  be  too  expensive.  So  as  we 
can't  have  that,  Bird  and  I  decided  on  a  golden- 
brown  cartridge  for  paper  and  a  soft  gleamy  ivory 


256     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

for  paint.     Then  I'd  make  a  clean  sweep  of  the^ 
furniture.     I  mean  all  the  dining-room  stuff,  that 
awful  combination   of  settle   and  hat-rack   in   the 
hall." 

"  Oh  Lord,  Ann,"  Matt  remonstrated,  "  that  hat- 
rack  is  very  convenient,  especially  getting  in  late 
when  it's  dark.    I  like  it." 

"  I  gathered  that,"  Ann  answered  crisply,  M  that 
night  you  came  home  drunk.  You  actually  talked  to 
it.  I  thought  you  were  going  to  hug  it."  Ann  never 
lost  a  chance  to  remind  Matt  of  his  single  fall  from 
abstinence.  "  No,"  she  continued  inflexibly.  "  That 
hat-rack  must  go.  If  Mrs.  Farrington  should  come 
to  call,  she'd  think  there  was  no  class  to  this  family 
the  instant  she  laid  her  eyes  on  that  unspeakable 
atrocity.  No,  we're  going  to  put  the  lovely  olc 
Sheraton  couch  that  we  found  in  the  attic  in  its 
place.  We're  going  to  clean  out  the  closet  unde] 
the  stairs  in  the  hall  and  you  are  to  hang  youi 
things  there.  Of  course  it'll  take  me  at  least  a 
month  to  teach  all  of  you  that.  I'll  have  to  stand 
over  you  with  a  gun !  And,  oh,  my  land,  the  fights 
I'll  have  with  Roly!  "  Ann's  eyes  softened  to  self- 
pity  as  in  imagination  she  surveyed  the  thorny  roa< 
that  leads  to  an  esthetic  ideal. 

"How  about  this  furniture?"  Ed  indicated  the 
living-room  in  which  they  sat. 

u  I'm  coming  to  that,"  Ann  promised.  Her  man- 
ner became  slightly  didactic,  her  voice  pedagogic. 
"  Bird  says  that  though  none  of  this  is  valuable  from 
the  collector's  point  of  view,  still  it's  perfectly 
harmless — good,  solid,  old  mid-Victorian  stuff. 
And  she  also  said — the  most  comfortable  furniture 
ever  invented.    Bird  says  she  thinks  it's  the  funniest 


le 

■ 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     257 

thing  how  all  the  Victorian  stuff  looks  so  much  like 
Queen  Victoria  herself — dumpy  and  fat  and  do- 
mestic and  roly-poly — but  not  a  bit  of  temperament 
about  it  anywhere." 

"  How  the  hell  can  furniture  have  tempera- 
ment? "  Matt  growled. 

"  Ask  Bird,"  Ann  answered  sweetly.  "  Why,  Bird 
says  that  that  Sheraton  desk" — she  pointed  to 
the  great  family  treasure — "  is  simply  sizzling  with 
temperament.  However,  all  this  furniture  must  be 
recovered — you  see  yourself  how  worn  and  moth- 
eaten  and  faded  and  spotted  it  is.  Now  up  to  this 
point,  all  I've  talked  about  is  spending  money. 
Here's  where  we  begin  to  save  it.  Bird  and  I  are 
going  to  do  the  upholstering  ourselves.  She  knows 
how  and  she  is  going  to  teach  me.  And  we're 
going  to  upholster  everything  smooth,  not  button  it 
down.  Bird  says  all  those  little  buttony  hollows  are 
inartistic  and  unhygienic.  That's  the  furniture." 
Ann  stopped  and  ran  her  eye  down  the  written  list 
on  her  paper.  Then  she  put  the  paper  down,  and 
folded  her  arms.  "  Let  me  see.  Oh,  we've  got  to 
get  rid  of  nearly  all  the  pictures  in  this  room,"  she 
announced  with  a  convincing  effect  of  calmness. 

"  Pictures!  "  Ed  repeated.  His  voice  thrilled  with 
emphasis  and  he  stared  at  his  sister — hard. 

"  Not  the  paintings!  "  Matt  demanded.  His  tone 
also  tingled  with  emphasis  and  he  looked  at  his  sister 
questioningly  and  threateningly. 

"  Not  the  portraits!"  Lainey  exclaimed.  Her 
words  also  vibrated  with  emphasis  and  she  had  the 
air  of  one  about  to  contemplate  sacrilege. 

"  Oh  no.  Not  father's  and  mother's,"  Ann  re- 
plied.   "  Of  course  not.    They'd  stay  anyway.    But 


258     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

Bird  says  they're  really  very  nice — they've  2  great 
air  of  authenticity.  She  says  that  whoever  painted 
them  was  a  good  artist.  The  drawing  is  quite  as 
good  as  the  color  and  both  are  exceptional.  And  as 
for  the  frames,  she  says  she's  never  happened  to  see 
any  like  them — so  elaborate  and  yet  so  chaste — 
she  just  loves  that  swell  green-gold  they've  fade 


; 


n 


Under  the  pressure  of  so  much  new  vocabulary, 
the  Ollivants  turned  as  with  one  accord  and — a* 
from  a  new  point  of  view — surveyed  the  two  por- 
traits. In  her  pale-blue  silk,  with  its  deep  flounces 
of  thread  lace,  her  fan  of  pale-rose  ostrich-feathers 
and  sticks  of  mother-of-pearl,  Mrs.  Ollivant,  warmly, 
robustly  blonde,  met  their  look  with  a  gaze  tender, 
soft,  and  misty-blue.  In  his  long  frock-coat,  carry- 
ing a  shining  hat,  gloves,  and  a  stick,  Mr.  Ollivant, 
richly-olive,  sternly  dark,  sustained  their  glance  with 
a  keen-visioned,  gray-eyed  humorousness. 

14  Say,  do  you  know  it  never  occurred  to  me  whal 
a  peach  father  was !  "  Ann  said,  "  or  what  a  swell 
dresser  until  Bird  called  my  attention  to  it.  I  was 
showing  her  the  family  photographs  and  she  said 
father's  clothes  were  very  elegant  and  smart.  Of 
course  I've  always  known  that  mother  was  a  looker. 
How  queer  how  you've  never  really  noticed  things 
you've  been  brought  up  with ! "  Ann's  voice  had  be- 
come a  little  dreamy.  But  it  immediately  became 
business-like  again.  "  Yes,  we  keep  the  portraits. 
But" — she  waved  her  right  hand  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  right  wall — "  it's  the  scrap-heap  for 
*  Washington  on  Horseback  '  and  '  Sir  Walter  Scott 
in  His  Study.'  "  She  waved  her  left  arm  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  left  wall.     "  It's  the  ash-barrel  for 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     259 

Landseer's  *  The  Monarch  of  the  Glen  '  and  for 
1  From  Shore  to  Shore.'  "  She  folded  her  arms. 
"  And  we're  going  to  can  General  Milliken." 

She  paused  as  though  waiting  for  the  storm  to 
break. 

It  broke. 

11  Nothing  doing,  Ann,"  Ed  said  with  decision. 
"  I  won't  stand  for  that.  The  General's  picture  has 
got  to  stay." 

11  Sure  it  has,"  agreed  Matt.  "  Why,  it  wouldn't 
seem  like  home  if  when  I  came  into  this  room  that 
old  duffer  wasn't  glaring  down  at  me  as  though  he'd 
like  to  beat  my  block  off." 

"  Oh  yes,  Ann,"  Lainey  said  with  stressful  accent 
that  had  a  soft  quality  of  uncertainty  in  it.  "  I  do 
think  you  ought  to  keep  General  Milliken.  It 
doesn't  seem  quite  respectful  to  get  rid  of  him."  She 
turned  to  her  elder  sister,  "  What  do  you  think, 
Beckie?" 

Beckie  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  But  it  was 
not  because  she  lacked  words.  It  was  only  that  she 
was  choosing  from  the  hordes  that  fluttered  to  her 
lips.  "  I  think — well,  I  don't  know  what  I  think — 
I  mean  I  know  well  enough  but  I  don't  know  how  to 
put  it.  I  never — I — I — I  never  listened  to  anything 
like  this  in  all  my  life.  I  shouldn't  think,  Ann,  that 
you  had  one  atom  of  love  or  respect  or  reverence 
in  your  heart.  And  the  rest  of  you  aren't  much 
better.  To  want  to  change  our  home  all  over! 
Why,  I  should  hate  it!  I  don't  want  it  to  look  any 
different.  Of  course,  I  don't  object  to  repapering 
and  repainting,  but  when  it  comes  to  getting  rid 
of  my  father's  and  mother's  furniture  and  taking 
away  the  pictures  that  I  was  brought  up  with — es- 


260     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

pecially  the   portraits  of  my  ancestors — well,   I'll 
never  give  my  consent." 

44  That's  all  nonsense,  Beckie,"  Ed  said  decisively. 
"  Why,  you'd  never  get  anywhere  or  do  anything  if 
you  held  by  those  sentiments.  I  don't  feel  any  par- 
ticular love  for  the  Scott  or  the  Landseer  or  the 
others.  But  I  do  agree  with  you  when  it  comes  to 
the  General's  portrait — I  draw  the  line  there." 

"What  do  you  like  about  it?"  Ann  demanded. 
And  for  an  instant  her  patience  cracked.  "  He  isn't 
so  very  much  of  an  ancestor.  I  mean  he  doesn't  go 
so  very  far  back.  Father  and  mother  both  knew 
him.  And  the  technic  is  perfectly  dreadful,  Bird 
says." 

11  What  business  is  it  of  Bird  Barton's,  I'd  like  t 
know?"  Beckie  demanded  stormily. 

"  She  said  it  was  none  of  her  business,"  Ann  an 
swered,  "  and  she  didn't  say  one  word  about  it  unt: 
I  dragged  it  from  her.  Will  you  tell  me  what  yo 
like  about  it?  "  Ann  continued  with  a  resumption  o 
her  magnanimous  patience. 

Deep  silence  fell.    Outside  the  sun  smashed  a  blu 
hole  through  the  black  sky.    Cascades  of  gold  pour 
ing  through  changed  the  inky  downpour  to  a  di- 
aphanous golden  mist. 

The  family  surveyed  the  portrait  of  General 
Milliken. 

The  General  presided  over  the  mantel.  He  wore 
his  uniform  and  he  stood  upright,  one  hand  on  hi 
sword,  the  other  resting  on  the  table.  The  por- 
trait lacked  physical  authenticity  in  a  very  important 
regard,  in  that  the  General  seemed  to  be  two- 
dimensional.  The  face  was  only  a  rigid  stark  mask, 
although  full  justice  had  been  done  to  its  beefy, 


cciy, 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     261 

watery-eyed,  iron-jawed  expression.  The  body  was 
but  a  stiff,  hard  fagade  of  unwrinkled  uniform,  al- 
though, down  to  the  last  round  of  glittering  brass 
button  and  the  last  inch  of  gleaming  gold  braid,  that 
uniform  had  been  painted  with  conscientious  care. 

"  Well,  I've  never  thought  he  was  so  very  good- 
looking,"  Lainey  said  after  a  moment.  And  again 
her  voice  wavered  with  that  soft  uncertainty.  M  And, 
of  course,  since  I've  joined  the  Party — (There  was 
only  one  party  with  Lainey  nowadays,  the  Socialist) 
— "  I  do  hate  militarism.  I  confess  the  figure  is  a 
little  stiff."  Both  bird-claw-like  hands  pressed  flat 
on  her  knees,  her  braid  falling  over  her  shoulder, 
she  bent  forward  and  contemplated  the  portrait  with 
a  gaze  deepening  in  concentration. 

11  Yes,  it  is  stiff,'*  Matt  agreed.  "  I've  always 
had  an  idea  that  the  General  posed  only  for  the 
head — that  they  just  rigged  up  some  dummy  for 
the  body." 

"  It's  an  insult  to  any  dummy,"  Ann  laughed 
ironically.  "  He  looks  to  me  like  those  weird  things 
that  ventriloquists  hold  on  their  laps.  I  expect  him 
to  say,  '  Good-evening,  audience,'  any  moment." 

"  No,  they  didn't  use  a  dummy,"  Ed  explained. 
"  I  remember  hearing  Aunt  Elmira  tell  about  it. 
The  General  posed  for  that  picture — but  he  was 
sick!  " 

"Sick!"  Ann  repeated.  "He  was  dead!  You 
never  can  convince  me  that  that's  the  picture  of  a 
live  man.  They  took  him  out  of  his  coffin  and 
stood  him  up  and " 

"Ann!"  Beckie  interrupted  sternly. 

Ann  subsided.  There  was  another  interval  of 
silence  in  which  the  golden  mist  suddenly  precipi- 


k 


262     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

tated  to  an  inky  downpour  and  the  blue  gash  in  the 
sky  closed  up  hard  and  black  again. 

11  Ann  is  right,"  Lainey  said  with  a  tumultuous 
conviction.  M  It's  a  dreadful  piece  of  work.  He 
does  look  like  a  corpse  and  anybody  can  see  that  he 
was  a  hateful,  horrid,  militaristic,  capitalistic  old 
tyrant.  I  can  just  imagine  how  he'd  love  to  be 
called  out  against  labor,  and  I  can  almost  see  him 
clubbing  the  I.  W.  W." 

11  Well,  something's  got  to  be  done  about  the  I 
W.  W.,"  Ann  vouchsafed.  "What  do  you  thin 
about  the  portrait,  boys?" 

44  All  right,"  Ed  said  with  a  sudden  amenability. 
11  Go  as  far  as  you  like,  Ann.  I  never  saw  him.  I 
have  no  particular  love  of  him.  Only  don't  throw 
him  away.  Put  him  in  the  attic.  Somebody  ma 
want  him  some  day.     How  about  it,  Matt?  " 

44  Beat  it,  General!  "  Matt  saluted  airily.     44  R 
tired— to  the  attic." 

44  Why,  Ed  Ollivant!     What  do  you An 

you  too,  Matt!    You  can't  really  mean "   Becki 

was  inarticulate,  but  her  indignation  throbbec 
through  her  voice.  "  How  can  you  say  such  things 
In  the  first  place,  I  consider  him  a  very  handsomi 
man." 

44  Handsome!"  This  from  Ann.  44Why 
Beckie,  he  looks  like  Joe  Weber  will  when  he' 
dead." 

44  I'll  never  give  my  consent  to  it,"  Beckie  de 
clared. 

44  We're  only  putting  him  in  the  attic,  Beckie,' 
Ed  explained.      44  What's  the   rest  of  your  pla 


Not  much  beyond  what  I've  told  you.     Tl 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     263 

point  is  this:  Bird  and  Lainey  and  I  will  do  what 
work  we  can — upholstering  and  putting  the  old  fur- 
niture into  shape.  But  the  papering  and  painting 
ought  to  be  done  by  a  professional.  What  I  want 
the  family  to  do  is  to  agree  to  share  the  expense 
equally  after  I  subtract  from  it  what  the  furniture 
brings." 

"  I  won't  give  one  cent  towards  it,"  Beckie  said, 
very  quiet  now — and  white. 

"  All  right,"  Ann  answered.  "  It's  going  to  be 
done,  though,  Beckie.  You're  outvoted.  Four  of 
us  is  a  majority." 

"What  pictures  are  you  going  to  have  in  this 
room,  Ann?  "  Ed  asked.  It  was  apparent  that  with 
each  moment  Ed  imbibed  more  and  more  of  Ann's 
iconoclastic  spirit. 

"  Very  few !  "  Ann  answered.  "  We're  going  to 
leave  mother's  and  father's  pictures  just  where  they 
are.  We're  going  to  put  one  of  the  big  mirrors  over 
the  mantel  and  the  other  just  opposite  over  the  couch 
in  the  hall — so  they'll  reflect  and  re-reflect  in  a  per- 
fectly darling  way.  And  that's  all.  Of  course  we 
found  some  things  in  the  attic,  but  I  don't  want  you  to 
see  them  until  they're  in  place.  I  do  wish,"  she 
went  on  in  a  preoccupied  way,  u  that  we  had  some- 
thing for  that  big  space  there."  She  pointed  into 
the  dining-room.  "  I  would  like  one  smashing  bit  of 
color  there.  And  so  would  Bird.  You  could  see  it 
from  this  room.  I  don't  know  exactly  what.  Bird 
says  a  big  group  of  Japanese  prints  and  that  would 
be  lovely,  I  think.  Only  Japanese  prints  are  so  ex- 
pensive. Besides,  I'd  rather  have  something  modern 
— I  mean  futurist — something  different  and  new  and 
— and — and — — "     Ann's  eyes  palpably  darkened 


: 


264     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

as  she  sought  in  her  mind  for  descriptive  phrases. 
They  lighted  as  she  found  them.  "  Something  mys- 
terious and  wild  at  the  same  time — if  you  get  me." 

11  We  don't,"  Matt  said  promptly. 

11  But  anyway,  I  can  let  that  wait.  An  inspira- 
tion will  come  to  me  some  time,  I  know."  Ann  spoke 
now  with  the  serene  authority  of  genius. 

"  How  soon  will  this  be  done?  "  Ed  asked. 

"  I  calculate  that  it  will  take  about  a  week  to  d 
all  the  papering  and  painting.  And  I  don't  wan 
you  boys  to  come  home  at  all.  Ed,  you  can  go  to 
the  club — or  somewhere.  And,  Matt,  you  can  go  to 
Lory  Mack's — or  somewhere.  Cousin  Edith  says 
she'll  take  Roly,  and  Roly  always  loves  to  go  there 
because  she  gives  him  layer-cake  frosted  and  lined 
with  goo  for  breakfast,  lunch,  and  dinner.  Bird  is 
coming  to  stay  here  and  we  four  girls  will  work  like 
mad." 

"  You  needn't  count  on  me,"  Beckie  said  with  lip; 
so  dry  that  they  seemed  to  parch  the  words  tha 
crossed  them.  "  I  won't  do  one  thing  towards  chang 
ing  this  house  over  if  you're  going  to  sell  any  o 
mother's  furniture.  I  don't  blame  you  two  girls  so 
much;  for  you  don't  remember  the  days  when 
mother  took  such  an  interest  in  all  these  things.  Bu 
I  shall  never  forgive  you  two  boys,  for  you  do  re 
member." 

"  Oh,  Beckie!"  Ann  said  impatiently,  "what' 
the  use  of  being  a  back  number?  I  love  my  mothe 
and  respect  her  memory.  These  things  were  nio 
enough  for  her  time,  but  they're  simply  loathly  no 
I've  got  to  live  here  and  I  want  it  to  look  pretty, 
according  to  my  ideas,  just  as  she  did,  according  tc 
hers.    I  thought  for  a  long  time,  I'd  like  to  give  i 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     265 

party — a  reception  or  even  a  dance — Maud  Evans 
says  she'd  lend  me  her  Victor  any  time — and  she's 
got  all  the  latest  fox-trots.  But  I  never  would  as 
long  as  these  atrocities  remain  in  this  house." 

"  There,  now  you  see  how  it  goes,"  Beckie  said  in 
a  voice  stony  with  her  grim  triumph,  "  these  new 
dances  in  my  mother's  house.  I  think  they're  awful 
and  I  know  she  would.  They're  like  those  terrible 
futurist  pictures  that  you  and  Bird  are  so  crazy 
about.  They  are  simply  horrible.  They  don't  mean 
anything  and  they're  an  insult  to  Michael  Angelo 
and   Rembrandt   and   Botticelli." 

"  Oh,  bother  Rembrandt  and  Michael  Angelo," 
Ann  said  flippantly.  "  Old  flub-dubs !  As  for  Botti- 
celli, if  he  wasn't  a  futurist,  I'd  like  to  know  who 
was?" 

"  I  feel— I  feel "  Beckie  stammered.     "  It's 

as  though  I  was  losing  my  home.  I  shall  never  have 
the  same  love  for  it  again — never — never." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will,  Beck  dear,"  Ann  declared 
easily,  "  when  you  see  how  swell  it  looks.     Don't 

worry  about  that.     Well,  now "     Her  golden 

eyes  were  rocking  with  joy.  "  I've  got  to  call  Bird 
up  and  tell  her  the  results  of  this  conference.  We 
begin  work  here  next  Monday.  Oh,  I'm  going  to 
have  the  time  of  my  life."  Ann  seized  Lainey  and 
they  one-stepped  madly  about  the  room. 

The  black  sky  broke  lengthwise  and  inundated  the 
world  with  sun.  The  sky  became  one  huge  ceiling  of 
foamy  blue.  The  air  turned  to  a  crystal  globe 
filled  with  liquid  gold. 

Beckie  went  up  to  her  room.  She  immediately 
fell  to  work  there,  sweeping  and  cleaning.  Picture- 
glass,    windows,    paint — everything   that    could    be 


266     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 


k: 


washed — walls,  furniture,  bric-a-brac — everything 
that  could  be  dusted — closet,  bureau,  desk — every- 
thing that  could  be  rearranged — received  its  full 
share  of  attention.  Yet  Beckie's  mind  was  not  on 
her  work.  Her  eyes  looked  off  into  space  frequently 
and  blurred  at  what  they  saw  there.  Sometimes  she 
had  to  bite  her  quivering  lips  back  to  their  normal 
firmness.  At  last,  bathed,  combed,  dressed,  s 
seated  herself  at  the  little  oak  desk,  drew  from 
drawer,  which  she  first  unlocked,  a  book.  That 
book  bore  the  name,  "  Diary."  But  it  was  not  a 
diary;  it  was  really  a  commonplace  book.  For,  al- 
though Beckie  frequently  wrote  in  it,  it  was  more 
often  dedicated  to  recipes,  quotations,  pasted  news 
paper  clippings  than  to  personal  confessions.  Bu 
such  as  it  was,  Beckie  had  kept  one  like  it  eve 
since  her  early  teens.  There  were  at  least  twent 
of  these  butcher-paper-covered  blank-books  stacke 
in  her  closet.    To-day  she  wrote : 

11  Mother  dear,  they  are  *  going  to  change  th 
house  all  over  and  put  away  or  even  sell  many  o 
the  things  you  loved  so  much.  I  did  not  agree  to  il 
I  never  will.  And  I  will  not  help.  I  shall  be  loya 
to  you  and  your  ideas  forever  and  ever  and  ever." 

When  Beckie  came  home  Monday  night,  a  smell 
of  dampness,  mixed  with  a  smell  of  paint,  hung  o 
the  air.  The  dampness  came  from  the  top  flo 
where  the  paperhangers  had  begun  their  work  an 
the  paint  came  from  the  lower  floor  where  the 
painters  had  started  theirs.  Dinner  was  one  long 
orgy  of  chatter  between  Ann  and  Lainey  and  Bird 
about  the  refurnished  house.  Beckie  alone  re- 
mained silent. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  come  out  in  the  kitchen,"  Ann 


nd 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     267 

asked  when  they  arose  from  the  table,  "  and  see  the 
things  we've  brought  down  from  the  attic,  Beckie?  " 
There  was  an  unusual  note  of  pleading  in  her  voice. 

"  No,"  Beckie  said  stiffly.  "  It  would  only  make 
me  feel  bad.  I  loved  my  mother  too  much  to  enjoy 
what  you're  doing  to  the  things  she  cared  for." 

The  entreaty  in  Ann's  voice  changed  to  resent- 
ment. "  Oh,  for  goodness'  sake,  do  cut  out  that  line 
of  talk,  Beckie.  I  loved  my  mother  just  as  much  as 
you  did.  But  I  can't  love  things  the  way  I  love 
people.    That's  the  only  difference  between  us." 

Immediately  after  dinner,  Beckie  locked  herself 
in  her  room. 

11 1  don't  know  what  they're  doing,  mother,"  she 
wrote  in  her  diary.  "  I  haven't  looked.  I  can't.  I 
never  was  so  unhappy  in  my  life." 

Beckie  did  not  come  home  Tuesday  night.  By 
Wednesday  night  the  damp  smell  had  descended  and 
the  paint  smell  ascended  one  story.  Again  the 
dinner-talk  bristled  with  the  details  of  shopping  ex- 
peditions and  of  the  domestic  revolution. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  come  out  in  the  kitchen, 
Beckie,"  Lainey  asked  gently,  "  and  see  what  we've 
done  with  the  furniture  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  Beckie  replied  with  firmness 
and  dignity,  "  I'm  not  interested." 

Again,  immediately  after  dinner,  she  went  to  her 
room. 

11  It's  like  coming  into  a  tomb,  mother,"  she  wrote 
in  her  diary.  "  I  feel  as  though  everybody  in  the 
family  was  dead.    I  can't  stand  it." 

Thursday  Beckie  did  not  come  home.  By  Friday 
night  both  the  damp  smell  and  the  paint  smell  had 
disappeared.     The  two  lower  rooms  were  closed. 


268     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

The  girls  ate  in  the  kitchen:  Ann  and  Lainey 
Bird  still  full  of  their  shopping  and  their  restoring; 
Beckie  again  starkly  silent.  This  time  they  did  not 
ask  her  to  inspect  results,  although  three  times 
Bird's  lips  closed  over  what  was  obviously  bitten- 
off  entreaty.  Afterwards,  Beckie  wrote  in  her 
diary : 

"  It's  all  gone,  mother  dear,  the  home  you  loved 
so  much.  I  don't  want  to  stay  here  any  longer.  I 
can  t. 

When  Beckie  got  home  early  Saturday  afterno 
the  house  was  silent.    Evidently  the  three  girls  ha 
not  returned  from  their  final  shopping  raid.    Beckie 
went  straight  to  her  room,  waited  only  to  take  off 
her  hat  and  coat  before  she  pulled  out  the  huge  o 
fashioned  trunk  from  her  roomy  closet. 

After  five,  the  front  door  opened,  letting  in 
three-ply  fabric  of  girl-chatter.  But  after  the  first 
start,  Beckie  paid  no  attention  to  the  gay  sounds 
that  drifted  up  to  her.  She  finished  her  packing. 
She  bathed  and  dressed.  She  put  on  her  hat  and  c 
— slipped  out  of  the  house. 


on 


- 


11  Oh,  Beckie  dear,  is  that  you?  "  Aunt  Lottie  ex 
claimed   as   the   door   to  her  living-room   openec 
"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.    I  haven't  seen  hie 
nor  hair  of  one  of  you  since  you  started  fixing  t 
house  over.     I  see  Ann  going  off  to  Boston  eve 
morning — my  stars,  she  looks  happy!     And  I  sa 
all  three  girls  come  in  just  a  few  minutes  ago. 
expect  Lainey's  been  shopping  all  day  too,  seeing  it 
Saturday.    Isn't  this  early  for  you,  Beckie?  " 

"  Yes.    I  took  the  afternoon  off  for — for  som 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     269 

thing.  I  thought  I'd  run  over  for  a  few  minutes. 
There's  something  I  want  to  talk  over  with  you." 

Beckie  sat  down  in  one  of  the  big  comfortable 
morris-chairs  and  Aunt  Lottie  resumed  the  other. 
Aunt  Lottie's  hair  was  white,  but  somehow  her  head, 
like  her  trim  ankles  and  her  slim  waist,  had  man- 
aged to  conserve  a  girlish  smallness.  She  was  knit- 
ting and  every  movement  vibrated  with  energy  and 
efficiency.  A  long,  bright-colored,  closely-woven 
band  was  emerging  from  under  her  needles.  A  ball 
of  many-colored  worsteds  lay  in  her  lap.  Her 
needles  clinked  and  clattered  and  sparkled.  She 
talked  on,  however — and  with  a  briskness  that  per- 
fectly matched  her  movements — after  her  first  keen 
glance  at  Beckie's  gray  face. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  saw  a  prettier  set  of 
girls  than  Ann  and  Lainey  and  Bird,"  Aunt  Lottie 
went  on.  "  Ann  and  Bird  are  perfect  beauties. 
Lainey  isn't  a  beauty  exactly,  but  she's  real  refined- 
looking.  She'll  be  prettier,  too,  when  she  fills  out. 
But  it  does  seem  as  though  Ann  grew  handsomer 
every  minute  of  her  life.  And  she's  the  spit  of  her 
mother.  Every  expression,  every  movement !  "  The 
gray  eyes  that  were  so  sharp  and  so  kind  at  the  same 
time  seemed  to  lose  focus  for  an  instant.  Aunt 
Lottie  took  off  her  glasses  and  wiped  them.  "  I 
admire  to  watch  her.  She's  more  like  your  mother 
than  any  of  you.  Your  mother  was  as  quick  as  a 
cat,  but  sometimes  I  think  Ann's  even  quicker.  You 
and  Lainey  are  Ollivants  through  and  through,  but 
Ann's  a  Carr  from  A  to  Zed." 

"Yes,  she  is  like  mother,"  Beckie  said  a  little 
drearily. 

"  She  was  over  here  a  fortnight  ago  with  Bird 


= 

ful 


270     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

and  I  asked  them  to  show  me  those  dances  that  t 
papers  are  so  full  of.  So  she  and  Bird  danced  so 
for  me.  I  didn't  see  anything  wrong  with  the 
But  it  was  just  like  Ann  to  be  wild  about  them. 
She's  a  pretty  dancer  too.  That's  just  the  way  your 
mother  would  have  been — many's  the  time  she's 
danced  all  night  long.  She  would  have  been  dancing 
every  one  of  them  if  she'd  been  alive  and  well.  Wh 
I  remember  when  roller-skating  came  in — yo 
mother  was  a  bride — and  she  took  it  up  at  on 
There  was  an  awful  lot  of  talk  among  the  Ollivan 
Your  father's  three  aunts — the  Ollivant  girls — awf 
dried-up  old  maids  they  were  too — made  enough 
to-do  about  it.  So  your  mother  just  took  them  to 
the  rink  with  her  one  day,  without  telling  them 
where  they  were  going.  At  first  they  were  hopping 
mad  when  they  found  out  where  they  were.  B 
after  they'd  watched  a  little  while,  Mattie — she  w 
the  youngest — said  she  was  going  to  try  it.  She  p 
the  skates  on — she'd  always  been  a  fine  ice-skater 
and  off  she  went  like  a  bird.  What's  more,  she  got 
husband  out  of  it.  A  gentleman  there  was  so  tak 
with  her  skating,  he  hunted  round  till  he  foun 
some  one  who  could  introduce  them,  and  if  you'll 
believe  it,  they  were  married  six  months  afterwards 
to  the  day." 

Beckie  was  only  half  listening.     She  was  gazin 
about  her.     For  an  instant  her  face  relaxed.  The 
setness  about  her  mouth  softened.     The  grimnes 
about  her  eyes  melted. 

"  I  always  love  to  come  into  this  room,  Aun 
Lottie,"  Beckie  said.  "  It  reminds  me  so  of  mother 
I've  come  over  here  so  many  times  with  her.  No\* 
that  they're  changing  the  house  over,  it  will  be  abou 


. 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     271 

the  only  place  left  where  mother  used  to  go  that 
stays  just  as  it  was  when  she  was  alive." 

It  was  a  room  pleasantly  reminiscent  of  the 
11  cozy  "  taste  of  a  past  generation.  The  paper  and 
carpet  were  both  "  bright "  in  design,  although  an 
effort  to  harmonize  them  was  apparent.  The  furni- 
ture was  all  of  a  highly-polished,  mirrored,  much- 
carved  oak,  the  curtains  of  a  big-figured,  scalloped, 
much-starched  lace.  Walls  were  covered  with 
pictures,  mantels  and  tables  with  bric-a-brac — the 
heterogeneous,  haphazard  collection  of  a  lifetime. 
Books  herded  in  trim  brilliant  files  in  glass  cases. 
Mineral  specimens  clustered  in  neatly-labeled 
groups  in  glass  cabinets.  But  a  certain  spirit,  not 
alone  of  use  but  of  tender  care,  pulled  all  this  to- 
gether into  an  atmosphere  of  comfort.  Alien  de- 
tails of  sound  and  movement  helped;  the  grand- 
father's clock  ticking  sturdily  in  the  corner,  the  blos- 
soming plants  thriving  lustily  at  the  windows.  A 
huge,  gray  cat,  wise-looking  and  fastidiously- 
groomed,  snoozed  close  to  the  register.  A  canary 
hopped  from  the  floor  of  his  cage  to  the  perch  at 
its  top,  emitting  the  occasional  screeches  of  his  joy. 

"  Well,  I  guess  I  think  that  myself,"  Aunt  Lottie 
agreed.  "  More  often  than  you  would,  perhaps. 
For  this  room  has  associations  with  your  mother 
that  you  don't  know  anything  about.  You  see,  she 
and  I  refurnished  our  houses  at  the  same  time.  One 
reason  why  we  were  such  great  friends  was  that, 
although  in  all  other  things  we  were  as  different  as 
chalk  is  from  cheese,  we  were  alike  in  one  thing — we 
loved  modern  furniture.  When  I  inherited  this 
house,  it  was  full  of  old-fashioned  hair-cloth  that 
had  belonged   to   my  Aunt  and   Uncle   Hepburn. 


s 


272     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

Yours  was  fitted  out  just  the  same  way  when  your 
mother  married  your  father — your  grandfather  Olli- 
vant's  things.  Of  course  I  was  my  own  mistress  and 
could  do  as  I  pleased." 

Aunt  Lottie  gave  a  sudden  pull  to  her  worsted. 
Released,  the  ball  bounded  from  her  lap,  rolled 
rainbow  streak  through  the  air  and  hit  the  cat  in  th 
head.    He  opened  one  somnolent  eye,  contemplate 
the  blazing  intruder  with  a  cynical  distrust,  then 
closed  it  again. 

"Phillips  Brooks  hasn't  got  a  drop  of  play  in  him," 
Aunt  Lottie  murmured  disapprovingly.  She  nodded 
in  the  direction  of  the  cat. "  "  I  guess  I've  got  to  get 
a  kitten.  The  trouble  is,  though,  training  them  not 
to  hurt  Tamagno."  She  nodded  in  the  direction  o 
the  canary.  "  Of  course  I  was  my  own  mistress  an 
could  do  as  I  pleased,  but  your  mother  had  the  har 
est  time  making  your  father  understand  that  i 
wasn't  irreverence  why  she  wanted  new  thing 
Land,  she  used  to  talk  to  me  by  the  hour  how  sh 
hated  that  old  black  walnut  stuff — she  said  they  ha 
enough  marble  in  the  house  to  fit  out  a  graveyar 
She  was  always  making  up  epitaphs  that  ought  t 
go  on  them — you  know  what  a  trainer  she  was.  Sh 
loved  bright  things — so  did  I.  And  so  when  sh 
finally  convinced  your  father  that  she  was  right,  w 
both  went  into  Boston,  shopping  every  day  for  tw 
weeks.  My  land,  weren't  we  tuckered  out  at  night 
And  the  money  we  spent!  She  was  always  eggin 
me  on  and  I  was  always  urging  her.  We  both  got 
oak.  We  both  loved  it  because  it  was  so  brig 
and  we  each  bought  two  morris-chairs.  One  thin 
your  mother  could  not  do  was  to  get  your  father  t 
sell  the  black  walnut  sideboard.    It  was  all  carv 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     273 

with  bunches  of  grapes.  So  your  mother  gilded 
them.  That  brightened  it  up  a  lot,  and  she  always 
covered  the  top  with  some  beautiful  piece  of  pongee 
and  ecru  macrame  work.  But  so  long's  she  couldn't 
have  the  sideboard,  she  got  that  handsome  piece 
that's  in  the  dining-room,  the  desk  and  bookcase  and 
plate-rack  combined.  She  said  she  was  going  to  buy 
the  piece  that  had  the  most  mirrors  in  it.  '  Oh,  how 
I  do  love  the  golden  glow  of  that  oak !  '  she'd  say  to 
me.  '  Why,  do  you  know,  Lot,  I  love  gold  so  much 
that  I'd  like  to  live  in  a  house  that  was  carved  out 
of  a  gold  nugget.'  " 

"  Yes,  I  guess  Ann  is  like  mother,"  Beckie  ob- 
served. "  She  said  the  other  day  she'd  like  to  paper 
the  two  rooms  downstairs  in  gold." 

"  There,  didn't  I  tell  you !  "  Aunt  Lottie  exclaimed 
triumphantly. 

But  Beckie  did  not  answer.  A  change  had  come 
into  her  face  that  was  not  entirely  the  soothing 
effect  of  Aunt  Lottie's  placid  reminiscences.  It  was 
as  though  she  were  hunting  through  her  mind,  find- 
ing and  correlating  ideas.  The  grandfather's  clock 
nicked  a  whole  quarter  of  a  minute  out  of  the  silence 
before  she  spoke.  Finally,  "  So  father  didn't  want 
mother  to  make  changes,"  she*  stated  more  than 
questioned. 

"  I  should  say  he  didn't.  And  when  it  came  to 
repapering,  just  the  same  fuss!  But  she  finally 
convinced  him.  But,  land,  he  never  could  refuse 
her  anything,  in  the  long  run.  The  paper  on  the 
house  when  she  first  came  to  live  in  it  was  all  that 
old  plain  cartridge.  I  was  brought  up  with  it 
and  I  hated  it  just  as  your  mother  did.  I  see  it's 
coming  in  style  again.    There  won't  ever  be  an  inch 


274     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

of  it  in  this  house.  And  when  all  those  beautiful 
figured  papers  became  the  rage,  your  mother  waj 
crazy  about  them.  She  got  a  different  kind  foi 
every  room.  She  always  chose  designs  of  flowers 
and  ribbons.  And  such  lovely  borders  as  she  picke< 
out — the  deepest  she  could  find.  And  she  got 
paper  with  as  much  gold  in  it  as  possible  for  the 
parlor.  The  dining-room  had  a  dado.  She  love< 
that  more  than  anything.  She  said  it  gave  her  a 
chance  to  have  two  kinds  of  paper  and  two  kinds  oi 
borders  in  the  same  room." 

11  Ann's  going  to  have  plain  cartridge-paper,'1 
Beckie  said.  There  was  a  troubled  wonder  in  hei 
voice,  a  dazed  uncertainty  in  her  face. 

"  I    want   to    know !  "    Aunt    Lottie    exclaimed. 
"Well,   well,   how  things  come  back,   don't  they 
Seems   as  though  the  generations  go  through  th( 
same  experiences.    But  speaking  of  changes,  I  guess 
the  only  quarrel  your  mother  ever  had  with  youi 
father    was    about    your    great-great-grandfathei 
Ollivant's  picture.     You  never  saw  that.     And 
good  thing  too.     It  was  a  dreadful-looking  picture. 
Your  mother  couldn't  endure  it.     She  said  it  de- 
pressed   her — he    was    such    a    melancholy-lookinj 
creature.     Then  the  paint  was  all  cracked  and  peel- 
ing and  it  had  an  awful  measly-looking  frame.    Youi 
mother  finally  got  rid  of  it,  but  not  until  your  fathe] 
and  she  had  quarreled  over  it.    She  told  your  fathe] 
that  the  picture  looked  like   old  Warren   of   th( 
Museum  as  Dr.  Pangloss.     You  won't  remembei 
Warren,  my  dear,  but  your  mother  and  I  used  t< 
see  him  in  everything  he  did — a  fine  actor." 

"  I've  heard  mother  speak  of  him  lots  of  times," 
Beckie  interpolated. 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     275 

"  Well,  fortunately,  General  Milliken  died  and 
left  your  father  a  portrait  of  himself.  Your  mother 
was  delighted  with  that.  She  said  she  didn't  care 
what  the  picture  looked  like,  as  long  as  it  had  all 
those  gold  buttons  and  braid  in  it.  She  said  she 
always  fell  dead  in  love  with  uniforms.  General 
Milliken  sort  of  took  the  place  of  your  great-great- 
grandfather Ollivant,  as  you  might  say." 

"  Ann  doesn't  like  that  picture,"  Beckie  mur- 
mured. "  She  says  he  looks  the  way  Joe  Weber 
will  when  he's  dead." 

Aunt  Lottie's  laugh,  girlishly  gay,  filtered  through 
the  room.  "Isn't  that  your  mother  to  the  life? 
She  always  saw  the  comical  side  of  things  too.  Oh, 
I  never  did  anything  but  laugh  when  I  was  with 
her.  I  used  to  come  home  dog-tired  just  from  laugh- 
ing. Many's  the  time  I've  said  to  her,  '  Jen  Ollivant, 
if  you  make  me  laugh  again,  I'll  leave  the  house.' 
One  of  the  most  lovable  things  about  your  mother — 
and,  oh,  how  it  did  amuse  your  father — was  the  way 
she  loved  change.  She  was  always  rearranging  the 
furniture  in  the  rooms.  Now  I  wasn't  that  way  at 
all.  As  soon  as  I'd  bought  this  furniture,  I  was  per- 
fectly contented.  I  decided  what  the  best  place  was 
for  every  piece  and  they  all  set  to-day  just  where  I. 
put  them  when  they  came  into  this  house,  thirty  years 
ago.  Now  if  your  mother  was  alive,  I  expect  she'd 
be  wanting  all  the  new  things  that  are  coming  in.  I 
often  think  what  good  fun  she  and  Ann  would  have 
together;  they'd  be  hand-in-glove  in  the  changes 
Ann's  making  now.  Of  course  the  younger  children 
don't  remember  her  when  she  was  so  gay,  but  you 
do." 

"  Oh  yes,"  Beckie  said  fervently,  "  and  so  beau- 


276     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 


1 


tiful  and  kind.  I  often  think  of  one  thing.  Mother 
always  called  me,  '  My  pretty  little  daughter/  and 
Lainey,  '  My  clever  little  daughter/  and  Ann,  c  My 
merry  little  daughter.'  I  see  now  that  she  called  me 
*  pretty  '  because  she  didn't  want  me  to  know  that  I 
wasn't  pretty.  I  was  almost  grown  up  before  I 
realized  the  truth.  I'm  glad  she  did  that;  for  I  did 
love  beauty  so.  It  would  have  broken  my  heart  then 
to  think  I  wasn't  pretty.    I  don't  care  so  much  now." 

"  Handsome  is  as  handsome  does,"  Aunt  Lottie 
promulgated  with  a  sage  briskness.  "  You're  good- 
looking  enough,  Beckie,  and  your  hair  is  beautiful. 
And  you're  as  smart  as  a  whip  and  as  bright  as  a 
dollar.  Besides,  you've  looked  twice  as  good,  ever 
since  you  let  Ann  choose  your  clothes.  That  queer 
brown  is  very  becoming  to  you  and  you  do  your  hair 
so  much  softer.  What  was  it  you  wanted  to  talk 
over  with  me?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  Beckie  said  evasively.  "  Only 
about  the  house.    But  I  see  Ann  has  told  you." 

"  Oh  yes,"  Aunt  Lottie  declared.  "  She  talked 
it  over  with  me  ten  days  ago.  I'm  sorry  your 
mother  isn't  alive  to  see  it  all.  She'd  be  so  proud 
and  happy." 

".Well,  I  guess  I'll  be  going  now,"  Beckie  said. 
"  Dinner  must  be  most  ready.  Good-by,  Aunt 
Lottie." 

"  Good-by,  Beckie.  Tell  Ann  I'll  be  over  to-night 
to  see  how  the  house  looks."  The  silver  glitter  in 
the  carefully-kept  little  hands  died  as  Aunt  Lottie 
suddenly  stopped  knitting.  "  Beckie,"  she  said 
softly,  "  I'm  going  to  tell  you  something  now.  It's 
a  secret  though.  And  you  must  never  tell  the  others. 
Promise  me." 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     277 

11 1  won't,"  Beckie  promised. 

u  I  often  accused  your  mother  of  it,  but  she  never 
would  admit  it.  It  is  the  truth,  though.  You  were 
her  favorite  child.'1 

A  soft  light  came  into  Deckie's  clear-gazing,  hazel- 
green  eyes,  burst  there  into  their  fullest  scintillation, 
blotting  out  all  their  sadness.  A  warm  color  spread 
out  under  her  clean-looking,  freckle-dappled  skin, 
wiping  away  all  her  fatigue.  "  Oh,  thank  you  for 
telling  me,  Aunt  Lottie.    Good-night !  " 

As  in  a  dream,  Beckie  proceeded  across  the  street 
through  a  purple-misty  spring  dusk  in  which  the 
stars  nickered  like  fireflies  and  the  street  lights  glim- 
mered like  moons.  As  in  a  dream,  she  entered  the 
house  and  ascended  the  stairs.  But  once  in  her 
room,  she  awoke  to  feverish  action.  She  unpacked 
her  trunk  with  a  cyclonic  speed  and  a  clock-like 
efficiency,  put  everything  back  in  its  place. 

From  downstairs  presently  came  the  noise  of  the 
arrival  of  the  three  boys.  Beckie  ran  down  to  join 
them. 

The  beautiful  old  Sheraton  couch,  newly-uphol- 
stered, which  had  taken  the  place  of  the  hat-rack  in 
the  hall,  bore  a  confusion  of  hats  and  coats,  al- 
though the  closet  under  the  stairs  held  open  a  wel- 
coming door.  The  three  girls — Ann  all  glittering, 
Lainey  all  gleaming,  Bird  all  glowing  with  excite- 
ment— were  receiving  the  praise  of  the  boys. 

"  It  certainly  looks  swell,  Bird,"  Ed  was  saying. 

And,  "  Class,  Ann.  Nothing  but,"  Matt  rein- 
forced him. 

11  Gee,  I  suppose  I'll  get  used  to  it,  some  time," 
Roly  grumbled.  "  But  now  I  feel  as  though  I  was 
in  a  hotel  or  an  art-museum  or  something." 


278     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

Fires  were  blazing  high  in  both  rooms;  gas  was 
shimmering  low.    The  double  light  extracted  the  last 
atom   of  warmth   from   the   new  velvety,   golden- 
brown  paper  and  the  new  velvety,  brown-and-blacl 
upholstering — diffused  that  warmth  in   the   atmos- 
phere.    Everything  seemed  to  catch  the  light:  th< 
old     gold-framed    mirrors    placed     opposite     an< 
throwing  back  and  forth  shadowy,  constantly-chang- 
ing visions  of  the  excited  young  faces;  the  old  can- 
delabra, lifting  lighted  candles  and  dripping  rain- 
bow-faceted prisms;  the  gold-satin  surfaces  of  th< 
old   maple   table    and   the    old   maple    chairs;    the 
bureau  of  maple  and  mahogany  with  the  old  hand- 
carved  brasses  set  in  it  and  the  old  silver  service  set 
on  it.    On  the  table  daffodils  fluttered  their  goldei 
wings,    standing    straight-stemmed    in    low,    greei 
Chinese  dishes,  and  on  the  piano  a  pair  of  gold- 
fish pursued  their  endless,  sinuous  quest  in  a  bowl, 
like  a  bubble.     Garret-loot — a   framed  sampler, 
pair  of  silhouettes,  some  Staffordshire  groups,  a  fe^ 
old  vases — added  notes  of  faded  color.     The  por- 
traits of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ollivant  smiled  on  the  scene. 

"  You  see  the  keynote  of  this  room  is  gold  an< 
brown,"  Ann  explained.  "  It  only  needs  one  thing- 
a  great  splash  of  color  over  there.  Something  that 
would  strike  a  discord — this  is  all  a  little  tot 
harmonious,  if  you  know  what  I  mean." 

"  I  don't,"   said   Roly  promptly,   "  and  I  bet 
dollar  you  don't,  either." 

u  But  I  can't  think  what,"  Ann  went  on,  unheeding 
this  gibe.  "  Something  futurist,  though.  What  do 
you  think  of  it,  Beckie?  " 

"  I  think  it's  perfectly  lovely,  Ann,"  Beckie  said 
with  the  warmth  of  complete  conviction.    "  I  think 


Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice     279 

you've  done  a  wonderful  job  and  I'm  as  sorry  as  I 
can  be  that  I  didn't  help  you.  But  it  was  only 
because  I  thought  it  would  be  a  sort  of — disrespect 
— to  mother.  I  see  now  that  it  isn't  and  I  know 
she'd  like  it.  I'm  just  as  crazy  as  I  can  be  about  it. 
And  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Ann.  A  young 
fellow  came  into  the  office  the  other  day  who'd  just 
come  from  Paris.  He  is  a  futurist  artist — a  pupil  of 
Matisse.  He  was  up  against  it  and  he  wanted  Mr. 
Pray  to  buy  one  of  his  pictures.  It  seems  Mr.  Pray 
knew  him  once — they  peddled  fly-paper  together 
years  ago  when  they  were  awfully  poor.  Well,  Mr. 
Pray  bought  one  of  his  pictures.  It's  a  terrible  thing, 
I  think.  He  calls  it  '  The  Soul  in  Transit.' 
Mr.  Pray  bought  it,  but  he  won't  have  it  round.  He 
said  that  if  any  of  us  wanted  it  to  take  it.  Nobody 
wanted  it  and  there  it  is.  I'll  have  it  sent  home 
Monday.  You'll  love  it,  Ann — so  will  Bird.  The 
name  he  signs  is  Yvanne,  but  his  real  name's  Mc- 
Gillicuddy." 

u  Yvanne!"  repeated  Bird.  uDo  you  mean  to  tell 
me  that  Yvanne  is  begging  people  to  buy  his  stuff? 
Oh,  Yvanne's  a  wonder.  His  color  is  most  re- 
markable." 

"  Oh,  Beck!  "  Ann  exclaimed.  "  If  you  aren't  a 
darling.  I  can't  wait  until  Monday.  What  does  it 
look  like?" 

"  It  looks  like  a  badly-built  spiral  staircase," 
Beckie  answered,  "  or  a  broken  flying-machine." 

11  Oh,  how  wonderful !  "  sighed  Ann.  "  I  hope 
it  has  plenty  of  color.    What  color  is  it?  " 

Beckie  wrinkled  all  over  her  face  with  the  degree 
of  her  concentration.  "  Scarlet,"  she  said  imme- 
diately, "  a  lot  of  scarlet.    And  blue — a  deep  cobalt 


280     Beckie  Hears  Her  Mother's  Voice 

blue.    Let  me  see,"  she  began  to  go  more  slowly — 1 
"  orange  and  green.     Oh  yes,  dashes  of  a  pink; 
yellow  or  a  yellowy-pink.    And — oh — I  almost  fo 
got — loads  and  loads  of  purple." 

"Doesn't  that  sound  swell,  Bird?"  Ann  co 
mented  with  rocking  eyes.  "  It'll  strike  just  t 
right  single  note  of  discord." 

11  It'll  strike  several,  from  Beckie's  description, 
remarked  the  sardonic  Ed.     "  Sounds  to  me  like 
brass-band  tuning  up." 

Later:  u  Oh,  by  the  way,  Ann,"  Beckie  said,  "  IVi 
decided  to  learn  the  new  dances.  But  I'm  going  £ 
a  teacher  and  get  them  right." 

"  Oh,  do,  Beck,"  Ann  applauded.  "  Oh,  and  a 
him  to  teach  you  the  squirrel-jump  first.  It's  t 
only  one  I  can't  seem  to  get." 

Later:  Beckie  seated  herself  at  her  desk.  Fir 
she  took  down  from  the  mantel  the  framed  pictu 
of  her  mother  that  always  stood  there.  It  was  t 
last  studio  picture  for  which  Mrs.  Ollivant  ha 
posed — the  old-time  cabinet  size.  It  purpose 
frankly  to  record  a  new  dress,  a  trained  tight-fittin 
gown  of  black  velvet  with  fichu  and  cuffs  of  re 
lace.  Beckie  looked  at  it  long,  but  she  smiled  a 
the  time. 

Latest  of  all,  she  opened  her  diary.     "  It's  a 
right,  mother  dear,"  she  wrote.     "  I  feel  as  thou 
I'd  heard  your  voice." 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  PLEASURE  OF  YOUR  COMPANY 

IT  was  very  quiet  in  the  garden.  It  was  that  in- 
effable instant  when  golden  day,  half  swooning, 
melts  into  the  arms  of  ebon  night.  And  it  might 
have  been  that  marvelous  moment  when  jocund 
spring,  standing  tiptoe,  receives  the  kiss  of  tragic 
summer.  Starless,  the  sky  still  held  its  peacock  blue- 
green  against  the  dusk,  although  from  its  depths 
bubbled  a  half  moon,  pearly  like  a  tear.  Stirless, 
the  air  was  like  a  still  liquid  through  which  the 
lighted  windows  showed  like  rectangles  of  gold-leaf 
pasted  onto  the  house.  Occasionally  a  breeze  zig- 
zagged across  the  grass  and  caught  in  the  vines  that 
covered  the  ell,  producing  a  faint  green  vibration  in 
their  filmy  tangles.  But  always  on  the  way  back  it 
gathered  the  perfumes  of  too  many  flowers,  stag- 
gered, sagged,  died  of  its  weight.  Now  and  then, 
one  plaintive  bird  called  to  another  plaintive  bird; 
and  then  the  air  would  explode  with  twitters  and 
flutters.  But  always  the  last  note  was  a  drowsy 
:ry,  ending  in  sleep. 

Ed  Ollivant  reached  into  his  pocket  for  a  match. 
He  lighted  his  pipe.  Head  back,  hands  clasped  be- 
hind him,  his  pipe  curling  downward,  hugging  the 
tine  of  his  chin,  the  smoke  weaving  upward,  unroll- 
ng  a  pale-gray  ribbon,  he  contemplated  the  scene. 

From  the  kitchen  came  the  sound  of  dishes  being 
scraped  and  stacked. 

281 


282      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

A  breeze  stronger  than  the  rest  blew  the  curtai 
aside.    Snatches  of  talk  came  through  to  Ed. 

u — formal,  I'd  just  love  to  have  it  formal 
be  a  family  once  more.  You'd  enjoy  them  too,  Bi 
— especially  Mrs.  MacVeagh,  Mrs.  Farrington,  a 
Miss  Littledown.  They're  great  swells.  You  kno 
what  I  mean.  They've  got  the  air  that  swells  alwa 
have.  You  can  tell  that  the  instant  you  see  it."  T 
curtain  rustled  back,  slapped  against  the  scree 
blew  outward  again.  u — always  like  this.  V 
had  this  same  feeling  every  spring  since  I've  bee 
old  enough  to  think.  I'm  always  expectin 
something  wonderful  to  happen  and  it  nev 
does." 

This  was  Ann's  voice.  Her  notes  swelled  to  th 
normal  round  fullness,  but  in  their  depths  quiver 
something  alien — a  kind  of  wistfulness. 

"  Yes,  I  know.     I've  been  through  that  enou 
times  myself.     And  it  doesn't  happen.     It  can't 
done.     Other  things   do,  but  not  that  wonderf 
glorious,  unexpected  surprise  that  you've  been  wai 
ing  for  all  your  life." 

These  were  Bird  Barton's  words.    And  her  to 
also  had  the  flute-like  clearness  with  the  dash 
cynicism  that  normally  characterized  it. 

Ed  Ollivant  strolled  leisurely  down  the  path 
the  back  fence.  His  three  sisters,  under  Bird  Bar 
ton's  tutelage,  had  performed  miracles  in  the  yarc 
And  yet  all  they  had  done,  seemingly,  was  to  remov 
the  rotting  old  board-walks  and  to  destroy  the  mang} 
old  flower-plots.  It  was  all  grass-grown  now,  broke 
irregularly  with  bunches  of  flowers.  The  snow- 
drops and  crocuses  had  gone,  but  the  hyacinths 
daffodils,  and  narcissi  were  in  the  full  flutter  of  theii 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      283 

spring  blooming.  The  vines  that  inclosed  the  yard 
on  two  sides  as  with  a  green  waterfall  remained 
untouched.  In  one  corner,  as  of  old,  the  lilac-bush 
would  swing  its  inverted  cone  of  perfume  and  blos- 
som against  the  globular  pink-and-white  mass  of  the 
apple-tree.  In  the  other  corner  the  syringa  would 
glimmer  white  against  the  vague  cloud  of  the  smoke- 
bush.  Between  them  stood,  undisturbed  but  re- 
painted, the  little  hexagonal  summer-house,  a  ruffle 
of  boldly-carved  wooden  lace  trimming  its  roof,  a 
series  of  plump  wooden  acorns  hanging  from  its 
points,  a  golden  weathervane,  in  the  shape  of  a 
galloping  horse,  curveting  at  its  peak.  And  beyond 
the  little  two-storied  bird-house,  repainted  also, 
gabled,  towered,  turreted,  many-windowed  and 
many-doored,  still  maintained  its  perch  at  the  top 
of  a  high  pole. 

Leisurely  surveying  all  these  things,  Ed  walked 
back  to  the  house.  He  looked  very  handsome  against 
that  background  of  spring  and  in  that  atmosphere  of 
twilight.  His  new  gray  suit  carried  a  characteristic 
note  of  a  conventional  smartness.  But  there  was  a 
touch  of  personality  given  to  his  aspect  by  the  vigor 
with  which  his  long-fingered  hands  manipulated  his 
pipe  and  the  frankness  with  which  he  threw  back  his 
handsome,  correctly-featured  blonde  face  to  sniff  the 
encompassing  fragrance. 

From  the  kitchen  came  the  hiss  of  hot  water 
pouring  into  the  dishpan — "  I  feel  so  discouraged 
about" — the  clink  of  glasses  being  dipped  into  it 
and  hastily  withdrawn — "  all  very  well  to  do  the 
house  over  " — a  loud  splash  as  the  silver  dropped 
into  the  water — "  keep  asking  myself  what  good  it 
has  done  " — a  loud  rattle  as  the  dish-mop  swished  it 


:: 


284      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

about — "  what's  it  all  for  " — a  loud  crash  as 
silver  dumped  into  the  draining-pan. 

Again  Ed  walked  the  length  of  the  garden, 
no  longer  looked  upward  to  sniff  the  air.    His  eyes 
were  filmed  with  meditation.     Years  ago,  this  had 
been  a  very  different  kind  of  a  garden.    Along  all 
the  fences  blazed  a  screen  of  morning-glories  and 
in  front  of  them,  as  though  on  guard,  stood  files  and 
files  of  sunflowers.     The   center,   cut   into   circle 
squares,  and  triangles,  bore  old-fashioned  flower 
geranium,    balsam,    zinnia,    marigold,    heliotrop 
fuchsia,  Johnny-jump-ups,  lemon  verbena,  and  dus 
miller.     Perhaps,  as  he  walked  back  and  forth, 
Ollivant  saw  the  genius  of  the  place — the  gay  spi 
who  had  called  all  these  quaint  growths  into  bein 
and  had  reveled  in  their  heterogeneous  color — a  ta 
blonde  woman,  robustly  slim  in  an  afternoon-gown 
of    organdie    muslin,    striped    in   black   vines    an 
figured  in  purple  iris,  a  broad  flapping  leghorn  ha 
trimmed  with  black  velvet  ribbons  and  bunches 
lilac — a  watering-pot  in  one  hand  and  the  tail  of  h 
skirt  in  the  other.     And  beside  her  a  little  cha 
bareheaded,  in  white  pique  kilts,  white  socks  co 
ing  halfway  over  bulging,   brown,   scratched  le 
and  black  ankle-ties  fitting  over  short,  plump,  stubb 
feet — a  little,  pudgy  chap,  blue-eyed  and  snub-nosec 
dotted  with   freckles  and  capped  with  gold,   wh 
tugged  at  the  watering-pot  and  chirped  unavailingl 
over  and  over,  "  Let  me  do  it,  mother." 

Could  that  little  chap  be  himself? 

Again  he  came  back  to  the  door.     He  seate 
himself  in  the  old  rustic  seat.     The  curtain  flev 
back,   rattled,   flapped.     With  a   sudden  impatien 
movement,  Ann  reached  forward,  jerked  it  up  hali 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      285 

way.  Framed  by  the  window-square  and  lighted  by 
the  kitchen-lamp,  the  two  faces  came  out  like  a  por- 
trait: Ann  all  peach-like  colorings,  velvety  surfaces, 
rounded  contours,  chestnut  hair,  golden  eyes,  scarlet 
lips — flower  of  the  discontent  of  her  late  teens ;  Bird, 
incisively  but  delicately  cut,  faintly  but  exquisitely 
tinted,  hair  smoky-dark  and  curling,  eyes  gray  and 
star-set,  lips  soft  and  faintly  pink — blossom  of  the 
cynicism  of  her  early  twenties. 

" — hasn't  been  through  it  herself?  I  tell  you, 
Bird,  that  unless  you  have  a  father  and  mother — 
or  a  lot  of  money — you  have  no  social  standing 
whatever.  And  oh,  how  I  do  hate  being  nobody! 
I  want  to  be  somebody — you  know  what  I  mean — 
to  count.  The  other  two  girls  don't  mind  it.  Beckie 
doesn't  seem  to  think  of  it  at  all.  Poor  Beckie,  she's 
never  been  a  girl  really.  When  she  was  my  age, 
she  was  waiting  hand  and  foot  on  poor  mother,  who 
had  just  begun  to  be  ill.  And  I  don't  think  Lainey 
ever  thinks  of  these  things,  either.  But  Lainey  and 
I  aren't  the  least  bit  alike.  And,  in  fact,  Lainey's 
different  from  other  girls.  She  loves  to  read  more 
than  anything  else.  She'd  rather  read  than  eat. 
And  she's  simply  crazy  about  suffrage  and  Socialism 
and  labor  and  those  awful  I.  W.  W.'s  You  are  too 
— but,  then,  you  like  clothes  and  entertaining  and 
going  places  and  smart  things.  Now  I'm  only  a 
regular  girl,  although  I've  never  had  a  chance  to 
feel  like  one.  Maybe  I'd  be  interested  in  direct 
action  and  votes  for  women  and  minimum  wage  if 
I'd  ever  had  the  chance  to  do  the  things  other  girls 
do.  But  now  they  just  bore  me  and  that's  all  there 
is  to  it.  I  don't  want  to  uplift  anybody  and  I'm 
not  interested  in  the  worthy  poor.     It  isn't  so  bad 


286      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

about  clothes.     I  mean  I'm  not  so  unhappy  as 
might  be  about  the  way  I  dress.    Of  course  I  don' 
really  prefer  to  make  my  own  gowns  and  trim  m 
own  hats.    I'd  much  rather  go  into  one  of  the  Boyl 
ston  Street  shops  and  pick  out  just  the  suit  and  ha 
that  I  like.    But  as  long  as  I  can't  do  that,  I'd  rathe 
have   the  things   I   make   than   cheap,   ready-mad 
suits  all  covered  with  buttons  and  braid  and  littl 
tabs  and  everything — or  the  gowns  that  a  bum  dres 
maker  would  turn  out.    And  sometimes  I  really  lov 
the  little  hats  that  I  trim  for  myself.    And  often  '. 
think  my  little  dresses  have  a  sort  of  air  to  them 
Wait  a  moment,  I've  got  to  empty  this  water — it' 
getting  cold." 

11  You're  perfectly  right,  Ann,"   Bird  answered 
"  You're  very  original.    With  a  little  training  at  a 
smart    establishment,    you    could    make    wonderfu 
clothes." 

Again  came  the  hiss  of  boiling  water  as  Ann  re 
filled  the  dishpan.  The  clatter  of  china  punctuatec 
her  talk,  as  a  steady  stream  of  plates,  cups,  anc 
saucers  flowed  from  her  hands  to  the  draining-par 
and  from  the  draining-pan  to  Bird's  towel. 

But  it's  a  fact,"  Ann  presently  took  up  her  nar 
rative,  "  that  I  never  get  a  chance  to  entertain  the 
way  I'd  like  to.     You  don't  know,  Bird,  how  des- 
perate it  has  made  me  at  times.    Why,  when  I  got 
in  with  that  Peabody  set  last  summer,  I  was  nearly 
crazy  with  delight  just  because  they  did  such  jolly 
things  and  spent  so  much  money.     When  it  began 
to  get  to  me  that  there  was  something  queer  abou 
them,  I  closed  my  eyes  to  it  at  first.    I  wouldn't  admi 
it  to  myself  because  I  didn't  want  to  see  anything 
•  that  would  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  go  abou 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      287 

with  them.  And  then  things  happened  that  I  couldn't 
pretend  not  to  see  and  I  had  to  cut  them  out.  Ed 
would  have  made  me,  anyway.  But  you  don't  know 
how  I  enjoyed  being  with  people  who  were  doing  ex- 
pensive things  all  the  time." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  do,"  Bird  answered.  "  You  can't  have 
lived  in  New  York  and  been  poor  there  without 
knowing  what  the  joy  of  spending  money  is.  The 
only  thing  I  do  maintain  about  New  York  is  that, 
although  you  can  spend  more  money  there  than  in 
any  place  I  know,  trying  to  have  a  good  time,  you 
can  also  spend  less  there  than  anywhere  else — and 
still  have  a  good  time.  Boston  is  very  different  in 
that  respect.  It's  like  all  small  cities.  People  have 
their  good  times  in  their  own  homes,  shut  off  from 
the  world.  There's  something  compressed  and  tight 
and  selfish  about  it.  Now  a  metropolis  is  different. 
It's  generous  and  hospitable  and  open-handed.  It 
has  a  human  lovable  quality.  It's  like  people  who've 
known  the  experience  of  being  down-and-out.  It 
understands  as  they  do.  It  takes  you  right  into  its 
heart  and  asks  no  questions.  Beside  it,  smaller 
cities  seem  cold  and  cruel  and  suspicious  and  narrow- 
minded." 

The  peacock  sky  darkened  suddenly.  It  was  as 
though  some  power  standing  in  the  wings  of  the 
sidereal  stage  had  switched  off  a  whole  row  of 
lights.  Fire  seemed  suddenly  to  blaze  up  behind  the 
pearly  moon,  changing  it  to  crystal.  And  suddenly, 
as  though  they  had  been  thrown  against  it  from  be- 
hind, the  sky  was  peppered  with  stars — little  crystal 
stars  holding  a  tiny  taper  of  light.  A  pair  of  bird- 
cries  made  little  liquid  drops  of  sound  in  the  silence. 
Still  Ed  sat  quiet  in  the  rustic  seat.    His  pipe  went 


288      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

out.  He  reached  for  a  match,  started  to  strike  it 
and  then,  as  though  he  thought  better  of  his  inten- 
tion, dropped  it  back  into  his  pocket. 

11  Why,  Bird,"  it  was  apparent  that  Bird's  gen 
eralization    had    flowed    smoothly    through    Ann' 
mind,   catching  on  no   snag  of  interest  there, 
have  no  social  standing  of  any  kind.    I'm  just  hous 
keeper  for  this  family.     Father  and  mother  mad 
this  house  a  center  for  a  lot  of  people.     We  wer 
somebody  then.     But  that's  all  gone.     We're  n 
body  now — especially  me.     The  rest  of  the  famil 
have  their  good  times,  but  they  always  have  the 
away  from  here.    Their  work  has  brought  them  int 
contact  with  interesting  people.    I  don't  mean  Rol 
of  course.    He's  too  young  to  chase  round  with  an 
body  but  a  lot  of  little  High  School  boys  and  girl 
that  don't  interest  me  any.    Still,  if  mother  was  ali 
and  well,  I  know  she'd  want  to  exercise  some  super 
vision  over  Roly's  associates — she'd  be  giving  little 
parties  for  him  all  the  time.    Take  Lainey,  though 
Lainey  has  rafts  of  friends  that  she's  made  at  Hig 
School  and  through  her  teaching.    She  enjoys  them 
immensely.      I   don't  care   for   them  very  much — 
they're  too — sort  of  serious  and  high-brow.     Anc 
Beckie  knows  slews  of  people  that  she's  met  throug 
the  relatives.     They  don't  interest  me,  to  be  sure — 
they're  too — kind  of — countrified  and  back-number 
Matt  too — Matt  has  an  awfully  good  time.     He' 
always  going  off  on  automobile-trips  with  people 
You  see  Matt's  such  a  sport.    He  understands  any 
motor.    He's  a  crack  shot.    And  then,  being  such  a 
dandy  tennis-player — Who  do  you  suppose  he's  beer 
chasing  round  with  lately?     Eunice  Littledown. 
don't  suppose  you  know  who  she  is — not  having  bee 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      289 

long  in  Boston — but  she's  a  real  swell  and  an  awfully 
original  girl." 

"  I've  seen  her  name  in  the  social  gossip,"  Bird 
answered.    "  Tennis-player,  isn't  she?  " 

u  Oh  yes,"  Ann  answered.  "  A  perfect  wonder. 
And  then  she  rides  horseback  and  runs  her  own 
machine  and  drives  a  four-in-hand,  golfs,  swims, 
raises  French  poodles.  She  plays  tennis  a  lot  with 
Matt.  Then  take  Ed — he's  so  good-looking  and 
well-dressed  and  such  a  good  dancer,  and  has  such 
beautiful  manners,  he's  awfully  popular.  Why,  Bird, 
Ed  knows  people  who  are  being  mentioned  in  the 
society  gossip  right  along.  And  that  Mrs.  Mac- 
Veagh  he  runs  with  so  much  is  always  being  roasted 
in  Town  Tattle.  Gee,  doesn't  she  give  the  smart 
parties.  But  as  for  me,  I  haven't  any  crowd. 
There's  no  chance  for  me  to  meet  anybody." 

Here  Ann  interrupted  her  own  monologue  with 
a  loud  splash  as  she  poured  the  dish-water  into  the 
sink.  She  continued  to  talk,  however,  as  she 
scrubbed  the  tables,  rinsed  the  draining-pan,  wrung 
out  the  dish-rag,  put  the  dish-towels  on  the  stove 
to  boil. 

"  Why,  right  here  in  Marlowe  Place,  there's  a 
Tuesday  Afternoon  Club;  nine  girls  who  have  the 
dandiest  times.  Maybe  you've  heard  us  mention 
them:  Edwina  Allen,  Edna  Williamson,  Miriam 
Naylor,  Marie  Mapleson,  and  that  gang.  Jane 
Forrester's  president.  They  give  teas  together  and 
get  up  subscription-parties,  luncheons,  theater- 
parties.  Why,  just  a  little  while  ago,  they  got  up  a 
Bazaar  of  all  Nations  for  suffrage — Ed  and  Matt 
helped — they  ^ore  Dutch  costumes.  The  Tuesday 
Afternoon  girls  asked  me  to  join  them  when  they 


290  The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company- 
started,  two  years  ago.  But  I  didn't  have  the  clothes 
to  go  round  with  a  crowd  like  that,  nor  the  money. 
I  don't  know  that  I  would  have  enjoyed  it,  but  I 
would  have  liked  to  give  it  the  once-over.  I  used 
to  know  them  quite  intimately  when  I  was  younger — 
when  things  you  wore  didn't  count  so  much — but 
now  I  never  seem  to  see  them,  except  when  I  mee 
them  on  the  street.  They're  just  as  nice  to  me  a 
ever — only  we  haven't  the  things  in  common  tha 
we  used  to  have.  There's  another  thing  about  it.  I 
never  meet  any  men  of  my  own  age.  I'm  not  man 
crazy,  but  I  think  it's  every  girl's  right  to  know  men 
Well,  I  can  tell  you,  Bird,  the  other  day,  when 
met  Len  Lorrimer  on  the  street  and  he  asked  m 

to  go  to  tea  with  him And  I  would  have  gone 

if  I  hadn't  promised  Ed  I  wouldn't.     You  see  this 
Len  Lorrimer  is  a  married  man  who  doesn't  liv 
with  his  wife.    Well,  all  I  know  is  that  I  can't  stan 
this  very  long.     Some  time  I'm  going  to  run  awa 
and  go  on  the  stage." 

Again  the  sky  darkened.  And  now  the  power, 
standing  in  the  sidereal  wings,  had  switched  off 
huge  areas  of  light.  The  crystal  moon  changed  to 
a  silver  moon.  The  fire  behind  it  toned  to  a  uni- 
form metallic  glare.  The  crystal  stars  changed  to 
silver  stars.  The  tiny  lighted  tapers  turned  to  little 
metallic  twinkles.  A  cloud  raced  across  the  moon, 
caught  on  its  horns,  clutched  it,  muffled  it,  with  a 
smoky  gauze.  More  stars  leaped  into  place — more 
and  more — until  the  sky,  clogged  with  heavy  glitter- 
ing masses,  began  to  sink  closer  to  the  earth.  Th 
last  liquid  bird-note  dented  the  silence. 

"  Now  we've  got  to  hustle,  Bird,"  Ann  concluded, 
"  to  get  to  the  theater  in  time." 


e 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      291 

Ed  arose,  strolled  leisurely  out  of  the  yard.  Still 
bareheaded,  he  strolled  to  the  apothecary-shop  at 
the  corner  of  Marlowe  Place.  He  shut  himself  in 
the  telephone  box.  "  Give  me  Back  Bay  8786,"  he 
demanded  briskly.  "  Oh,  Thomas,  is  Mrs.  Mac- 
Veagh  at  home  ?  Ask  her  to  come  to  the  telephone, 
please.  Is  this  you,  Rita?  Say,  Rita,  I  want  to  ask 
a  favor  of  you?  " 

It  was  a  prolonged  talk.  "  The  twenty-fifth, 
then,"  Ed  concluded.     "  Don't  forget,  will  you?" 

He  strolled  back  to  the  house. 

"  Lainey,"  Ann  called.  "  Beckie.  Oh,  wake  up! 
Do  wake  up!    Beckie!    Lainey!    Lainey!    Beck!" 

The  little  blonde  head  stirred  first.  Lainey's  lids, 
thin  as  the  petals  of  new-blown  white  violets,  lifted 
slowly  from  eyes  vague  as  the  hearts  of  new-blown 
purple  violets.  Lainey's  hair  hung  away  from  her 
head  like  an  empty  golden  bag  that  tapered  to  a 
long,  loose  plait.  Lainey  did  not  rise.  The  little 
brunette  head  stirred  next.  But  Beckie  came  to  an 
upright  position  immediately,  her  stiff-lashed  lids 
snapping  up  from  her  green-brown  eyes,  her 
mahogany-brown  hair  parted  from  her  forehead  to 
her  neck,  erupting  in  two  tightly-braided  horns,  one 
over  each  ear.  "What  is  it?"  she  demanded 
crossly.  u  Ann  Ollivant,  look  at  that  clock.  I'd  like 
to  spank  you.  The  only  morning  I  have  to  sleep 
too." 

The  sun  could  not  have  been  many  minutes  above 
the  horizon.  The  sky  was  blush-pink  with  the  dregs 
of  dawn.  The  air  was  blush-soft  with  the  dregs  of 
dew.  The  May  world  glittered  prismatically.  The 
tiny  gossamers  that  covered  the  grass  bubbled  moon- 


292      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

stones,  the  cascade  of  vines  that  flowed  from  roof  to 
garden  scattered  diamonds. 

M  Oh,  Beckie,  don't  get  cross,"  Ann  wheedled. 
11  I've  hardly  slept  all  night — I  mean  only  in  patches. 
I'm  so  excited  about  it.  And  I  didn't  wake  you 
last  night,  though  I  was  simply  dying  to  talk  it  over. 
Bird  wouldn't  let  me.  She's  fast  asleep  now.  But 
I  couldn't  keep  it  another  moment." 

44  Keep  what?"  Beckie's  eyes  had  lost  their  last 
film  of  sleep.  But  Lainey's  lids  began  to  droop 
over  her  eyes.  "  Don't  you  dare  go  to  sleep,  Lainey 
Ollivant,"  Ann  admonished  her  sister.  Lainey's 
lids  flew  open  again. 

Ann's  eyes  seemed  bigger  than  usual.  They 
gleamed  with  a  fire  that  blazed  higher  and  higher 
each  moment,  as  though  the  very  Torch  of  Joy  were 
burning  there.  Her  cheeks  seemed  pinker  than 
usual.  They  foamed  with  a  rose  color  that  grew 
deeper  and  deeper  every  instant,  as  though  the  very 
Fountain  of  Happiness  were  playing  there.  She 
might  not  have  slept,  but  she  was  youth  and  fresh- 
ness incarnate  as  she  sat  there,  tubbed,  nightgowned, 
and  negligeed. 

"Well,  hurry  up,"  Beckie  grumbled.  "Tell 
us." 

"  Ed  wants  to  give  a  party,"  Ann  announced. 
44  He  says  it's  time  we  did  some  of  the  things  that 
father  and  mother  used  to  do.  And  you  can  say 
what  you  like,  Beck,  but  it's  because  this  house  has 
been  done  over — and  looks  so  swell — that  he  wants 
to  show  it  off  to  his  friends." 

44  What  kind  of  a "    Beckie  started  to  ask. 

14  He  doesn't  know,"  Ann  answered.  "  He's  left 
that  all  to  us." 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      293 

11  When  did  he "  Lainey  began. 

11  Last  night,"  Ann  answered.  u  Bird  and  I  were 
getting  something  to  eat  after  the  theater  when  Ed 
came  in.  He  sat  in  the  kitchen  and  talked  with  us 
for  nearly  an  hour.  He  said  for  me  to  go  ahead  and 
do  it  right  and  he'd  pay  all  the  bills.  Why  he  al- 
most gave  me — carte  blanche " 

14  Who's  he  going  to "  Beckie  made  a  second 

attempt. 

"  Everybody,"  Ann  answered  impressively.  "  He 
said  to  make  out  a  list  at  once — so's  to  be  sure  to 
leave  out  nobody." 

"  What  did  you  decide  to — > — "  Lainey  also  made 
a  second  attempt. 

"  A  reception,"  Ann  responded.  "  Bird  and  I 
talked  the  whole  matter  over  before  we  closed  our 
eyes  and  both  of  us  dead  for  sleep.  At  first  we 
thought  of  a  tea — but  that  would  have  to  be  in  the 
afternoon  and  would  leave  out  all  the  men.  Then 
we  thought  of  a  dance — but  really  these  rooms  aren't 
big  enough.  That  would  mean  hiring  a  hall  and 
then  nobody'd  see  the  house  all  fixed  over  new.  Ed 
didn't  say  as  much  to  me,  but  Bird  and  I  both  got  it 
that  he  was  dying  to  show  the  house  to  Mrs.  Mac- 
Veagh.  For,  of  course,  although  Mrs.  MacVeagh 
has  loads  of  money  and  she's  as  smart  as  she  can 
be,  I  doubt  if  she  knows  a  Hepplewhite  from  a 
Sheraton."  Ann's  eyes  flashed  a  golden  scorn  of 
that  condition  of  gross  ignorance  from  which  she 
.herself  had  emerged  only  a  few  months  before. 
u  Besides,  Bird  and  I  both  thought  a  dance  wouldn't 
be  formal  enough  for  a  first  function — and  I'm  crazy 
to  give  something  formal — so  we  decided  on  the  re- 
ception." 


294      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

11  When  will "   Lainey  began  for  the  third 

time. 

"  Ed  wants  it  the  twenty-fifth.  I'm  going  to  get 
right  to  work  on  that  list.  I  want  all  the  address- 
books  in  the  family.  Then  we'll  all  have  to  get 
together  and  talk  things  over — there'll  be  a  lot  of  im- 
portant matters  to  decide — what  we'll  wear,  for 
stance.  You  two  have  simply  got  to  have  nei 
dresses.  I  am — if  I  have  to  pawn  something.  I'i 
going  to  wear  pink.  Bird  says  she'll  wear  whit< 
Lainey,  you  ought  to  have  blue,  and  Beckie 

"  All  my  life,"  Beckie  said,  doing  a  little  intei 
rupting  on  her  own  account,  M  I  have  wanted  a  bla< 
evening-dress  trimmed  with  shiny  silver  stuff." 

"  Well,  for  once,"  Ann  announced  with  a  higl 
sense  of  relief  in  her  voice,  "  you  and  I  agree  01 
something,  Beckie.    I  was  going  to  say  black.    Thei 
we've  got  to  decide  what  we'll  have  to  eat  and  wh; 
form    the    invitations    will    take — and    everything 
Now  you  can  go  to  sleep,  if  you  want  to." 

When  Beckie  and  Lainey  entered  the  dining-room 
for  the  late  Sunday  breakfast,  they  found  the  rest  oi 
the  family  all  there  ahead  of  them.  Ed,  with  hi* 
eternal  air  of  being  perfectly  dressed  for  the  oca 
sipn,  was  hurrying  through  one  paper;  Matt,  in  tl 
baggy  corduroy  trousers  and  the  blue  flannel  shii 
which  with  him  spelled  relaxation,  was  tearing 
through  another;  Roly,  in  knickers  and  his  Hi{ 
School  sweater,  was  calling  loudly  for  food.  Ai 
sat  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  address-books,  to  the 
number  of  four,  piled  in  front  of  her.  Her  excite 
ment  had  seeped  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  rooi 
but  she  was  still  pouring  it  out.     She  interrupt* 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      295 

herself  long  enough  to  place  on  the  table  the  tra- 
ditional Sunday  breakfast  of  New  England:  baked 
beans,  warmed  over  from  the  night  before ;  brown- 
bread,  delectably-toasted;  fish-balls,  deliciously- 
browned;  piccalilli;  chili  sauce.  The  rest  of  the 
family  fell  on  the  food  with  the  zest  of  delayed 
breakfasters,  but  Ann  confined  herself  to  a  cup  of 
coffee  that  was  mostly  hot  milk.  Alternately  she 
turned  the  pages  of  the  address-books  and  shot 
questions  from  brother  to  sister  and  back  again. 

"  Now  what  shall  we  have  to  eat  at  the  party?  " 
she  demanded  suddenly.  "  That's  a  question  I 
want  you  to  think  hard  about.' ' 

"  Well,  if  you're  asking  me,"  Roly  said,  com- 
pletely burying  a  fish-ball  in  piccalilli,  "  I  don't  have 
to  think  at  all — ice-cream — bananas — griddle-cakes 
with  maple  syrup — and  floating  island  pudding." 

"  I'm  not  asking  you,  Roly,"  Ann  announced 
stormily.  "  And  you'll  oblige  me  by  keeping  out 
of  this  discussion.    Floating  island  padding!  " 

"  Beer  and  hot-dogs  for  mine,"  Matt  answered 
with  an  equal  celerity. 

"  Oh,  my  goodness,  what  a  family!"  Ann  ex- 
;  claimed.  "  Matt,  don't  you  understand  this  is  a 
|  formal  function.    It  is  to  be  swell.    Hot-dogs!  " 

"  I  should  say  something  dainty"  said  Lainey  the 
pacifist.  "  Little  delicate  sandwiches,  ice-cream  in 
pretty  shapes,  and  darling  little  cakes." 

11  Men  don't  want  anything  dainty"  interposed 

SBeckie  with  the  contemptuous  superiority  of  those 

who  have  cooked  for  the  other  sex.     "  Men  want 

substantial    things — cold    meats,    and    salads    and 

pickles  and  olives  and  cheese  and  sardines." 

"Oh,  heavens,  Beckie ! "  Ann  groaned,  "you  sound 


296      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

like  a  delicatessen.  Why  don't  you  say  boiled  dinner 
or  clam-chowder?  This  isn't  a  barbecue.  It's  a 
function.  It's  to  be  formal.  You  don't  bother 
whether  people  get  enough  to  eat  or  whether  they 
like  it  or  not — you  just  give  them  the  correct  thing." 

"  Why  don't  you  wait  and  discuss  this  matter 
with  the  caterer,  Ann?"  Ed  suggested. 

"  I  guess  I'll  have  to,"  Ann  admitted  scathingly, 
11  if  this  is  all  the  help  I'm  going  to  get  from  this 
family.  My  goodness,  I've  never  suspected  how 
little  class  there  is  to  you." 

"What  do  you  do  at  a  party  like  this?"  Roly 
asked,  as  one  who  desires  information.  "  Play 
games?  " 

11  Oh,  certainly,"  Ann  answered  in  a  tense  voice. 
M  Of  course.     Kissing  games — post-office — pillow — 

clap-in-and-clap-out — spin   the   plate What   a 

family !  Roly,  do  you  know  what  the  word  formal 
means?  " 

u  No,"  Roly  admitted.  "  But  I  know  one  thing. 
I'm  not  coming  to  this  party  until  you  hand  out  the 
grub." 

"  That'll  help  some,"  Ann  said  darkly.  "  Now," 
she  added  with  a  new  impetus,  "  we'll  decide  who's 
going  to  be  invited." 

"  I  stipulate,"  Ed  interposed,  "  that  you  invite  all 
the  neighbors  in  Marlowe  Place." 

"All  right,"  Ann  agreed  with  a  sigh.  "  Of 
course  I  know  I've  got  to  do  that.  It  means,  though, 
that  old  Mrs.  Gookin  will  be  here  promptly  at  nine 
to  stay  until  the  last  one  goes.  And  everybody'! 
have  to  shout  into  that  ear-trumpet." 

"  And  all  the  relatives,"  Beckie  added. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  Ann  agreed  with  another  sigh 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      297 

11  And  we've  got  such  a  million  of  them  and  such 
homely  ones.  And  then  they're  all  so  fat  and  take 
up  so  much  room.  And  I  suppose  Aunt  Margaret 
will  wear  that  fierce  black  satin  with  the  jet,  that 
she's  worn  ever  since  I  can  remember.  Oh  dear, 
why  couldn't  it  be  fixed  so  you  could  choose  your 
own  relatives."  Her  voice  trailed  into  the  silence 
of  despair  and  then  suddenly  leaped  into  enthusiasm 
again.  "  Probably  they'll  have  to  take  early  trains. 
I've  been  going  through  all  these  address-books, 
making  a  choice — weeding  out — you  know  what  I 
mean." 

"  Doing  what?  "  Lainey  demanded. 

"  Weeding  out.  Good  heavens,  Lainey,  you  don't 
suppose  I'm  going  to  ask  everybody.  There's  that 
Mike  Milligan — that  I.  W.  W.  friend  of  yours.  You 
don't  think  I'm  going  to  invite  a  man  that's  always 
getting  arrested?  " 

"Why  not?  "  Lainey  asked. 

"  Oh,  my  grief,  Lainey,  are  you  going  to  carry 
Socialism  into  your  private  life?  I  thought  Socialism 
was  something  you  just  believed  in  and  let  it  go 
at  that.  It's  all  right,  I  suppose,  when  it  comes  to 
crops  and  railroads  and  banks  and  stocks  and  bonds, 
but  it  certainly  is  going  to  put  parties  on  the  blink. 
Why,  he  wouldn't  know  what  to  wear  or  how  to  act. 
Do  you  think  he'd  want  to  come,  boys?"  Ann's 
voice  melted  from  conviction  to  entreaty  as  she 
turned  to  her  brothers  for  reinforcement. 

"  If  he  thinks  there's  going  to  be  anything  to  eat, 
he'll  come,"  said  Matt.  "  Sure !  If  he's  a  regular 
I.  W.  W." 

Ann  groaned.  "  And,  Beckie,  I  wasn't  going  to 
invite  that  queer  Miss  Larkin,  who  has  St.  Vitus's 


298      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company- 
dance  so  her  nose  twitches  like  a  rabbit.    And,  Matt, 
you  certainly  don't  expect  me  to  invite  Gus  Clark, 
after  the  way  he  took  you  out  that  time  and  got  you 
drunk." 

"If   you    don't   invite    Mike    Milligan,"  began 
Lainey. 

"  If  you  don't  invite   Almedia   Larkin,"  began 
Beckie. 

11  If  you  don't  invite  Gus  Clark,"  began  Matt. 

"  Don't  invite  me,"  they  all  ended  in  chorus. 

Ann  stared  for  an  interval  of  silence  in  which 
palpably  exasperation  grew  to  rage  and  boiled  over. 
"  All  right,"  she  agreed  finally,  "  I'll  invite  every- 
body we  know — that  red-headed  grocery-boy  with 
the  harelip  and  the  piano-tuner  with  the  glass  eye, 
and  the  gas-man,  whose  false  teeth  jump  up  and 
down  when  he  talks — and  the  ash-man  and  the  ice- 
man and  the  policeman  on  the  beat.  Well,  the 
party's  ruined  for  me  with  all  those  lemons  coming." 
There  came  another  interval  of  silence,  in  which, 
obviously  out  of  the  ruins  of  her  plans,  Ann  built 
another  hope.  "  Do  you  think  Mrs.  MacVeagr 
would  care  to  come?"  she  asked  Ed.  "And  Mrs 
Farrington?"  she  asked  Lainey.  "And  Misf 
Littledown?"  she  asked  Matt. 

"  I  think  probably  Mrs.  MacVeagh  will  come 
Ed  answered  with  an  elaborate  indifference.  " 
know  nothing  about  her  engagements,  of  course." 

"  I'm  sure  Mrs.  Farrington  would  like  to  come 
Lainey  said.    "  She's  always  so  sweet  and  lovely." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  Miss  Littledown 
Matt  replied,  "  except  that  she's  a  good  sport,  i 
ever  I  saw  one." 

"  Well  then,"  Ann  announced,  as  one  who  ma 


- 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      299- 

noble  concession  for  the  good  of  the  majority,  "  I 
suppose  I  might  as  well  get  the  invitations  out- 
Perhaps  the  lemons  will  be  sick  or  something,  though 
I  never  heard  of  such  a  case.  Bird  and  I  looked  up 
the  correct  form  in  the  etiquette-book.  I'll  start 
writing  them  at  once." 

"  You'd  better  have  them  printed,"  Roly  sug- 
gested.   "  Nobody  can  read  your  writing." 

"Printed!"  Ann  breathed.     "What  a  family!" 

11  The  invitations  are  out,"  Ann  announced  the 
next  night.  "  Do  you  suppose  people  will  have  the 
sense  to  answer  them?  " 

"  No,"  Roly  answered  readily.  "  They'll  prob- 
ably wait  to  see  if  something  better  doesn't  turn  up." 

"  I  started  to  go  down  to  the  caterer  this  morn- 
ing," Ann  said,  talking  straight  through  Roly's  re- 
mark, "  and  on  the  way  a  wonderful  idea  came  to 
me — to  ask  those  girls — you  know  the  Misses  Colby 
— who've  opened  that  little  tea-room  on  the  Boule- 
vard— to  cater  for  me.  I  went  in  to  see  them  and 
they  were  perfectly  lovely  about  it.  They  said  that 
they  would  love  to  do  it,  as  they  were  dying  to  work 
into  this  sort  of  thing.  They  said  they'd  come  up 
here  some  morning  and  look  over  our  table  things. 
They  said  they  liked  to  use  the  family's  own  stuff 
wherever  it  was  possible — so  it  wouldn't  look  hired 
and  rubber-stamp.  I  told  them  frankly  that  our 
china  and  silver  was  awful.  They  looked  disap- 
pointed, but  they  went  perfectly  wild  when  I  de- 
scribed the  Sheffield  plate  set.  Well,  we  talked  for 
a  long  time  and  we  designed,  if  I  do  say  it  myself, 
the  most  artistic  eats  you  can  possibly  imagine." 

"When  do  you  pass  round  the  grub?"   Roly 


3<X)      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

asked  with  interest.      "  I   was   talking  with   Dink 
to-day  and  he  says  he  doesn't  want  to  come  till 

then." 

Ann's  glance  must  have  sawed  through  Roly's 
skull,  but  she  went  on,  blithely  ignoring  him.  "  And 
I  called  up  Miss  Walker  and  she's  coming  day  after 
to-morrow  for  a  week.  Then  I  went  in  town  and 
got  samples  of  dress-goods.  I'm  going  in  early  to- 
morrow morning  again.  So,  you  girls  can  be  mak- 
ing up  your  minds  to-night  what  you  want.  I'll  meet 
Bird  at  twelve  to-morrow  and,  Beck,  you  at  one. 
Lainey,  I  suppose  you'll  trust  to  Bird's  and  my 
judgment.  Now  you  must  remember  that  all  next 
week  will  be  given  over  to  dressmaking.  I'll  work 
with  Miss  Walker  all  day  and  the  rest  of  you  car 
help  evenings.  At  least  Beck  and  Bird  will.  Oi 
course  you  won't  be  good  for  anything,  Lainey." 

11  Can't  I  read  aloud  to  you  while  you're  sewing,' 
Lainey  asked  in  an  agony  of  good-will.  u  I'm  jus 
starting  '  Marcus  Aurelius  '  again." 

"  If  there's  anything  that  would  drive  me  ou 
of  my  skin  quicker  than  being  read  to  while  I  wa 
sewing,"  Ann  was  apparently  addressing  the  cosmi 
spirit,  for  she  glared  into  space,  "  I'd  like  t« 
know  what  it  is.  *  Marcus  Aurelius! '  What 
family!" 

"  The  acceptances  are  beginning  to  come  in,"  An 
announced  the  next  day.     "  I  got  Mrs.  MacVeagh  ; 
and  Mrs.  Farrington's   and  Miss  Littledown's  i  i 
the  first  mail.    Oh,  such  smart  stationery — so  el<  • 
gant  and  simple — wait  till  I  show  you.    And  Mifc 
Milligan.     He  wrote   from  the   I.   W.  W.   hea< 
quarters  and  he  inclosed  a  sticker  which  said  som 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      301 

thing  about  no  hops  being  picked  in  California  till 
two  men  were  out  of  prison — I  forget  their  names — 
and  asked  me  if  I  wouldn't  write  to  the  governor 
about  it.  And,  say,  Beck,  I  went  into  Maddox, 
Lennon's,  and  got  some  silver  stuff  that  put  it  all 
over  that  we  saw  at  Candler's." 

"  All  right,"  Beckie  said  obediently. 

"And,  Lainey,  Bird  and  I  decided  we  wouldn't 
let  you  get  that  deep-blue  stuff  you  liked  so  much. 
We  chose  a  paler  blue — with  a  silver  thread — oh, 
it's  wonderful,  it's  like  a  night  sky  smothered  in 
moonshine.    You  never  saw  anything  so  lovely." 

UA11  right,"  Lainey  said  docilely. 

"What  do  you  think  happened  to-day?"  Ann 
asked  the  next  night.  u  Aunt  Lottie  came  over  this 
morning  and  insisted  on  our  borrowing  her  two 
maids  for  the  party — Hattie  and  Josie.  Of  course 
I  was  delighted.  Aunt  Lot  makes  them  wear  such 
correct  aprons  and  caps  and  they're  such  swell-look- 
ing darkies.  And  then — what  do  you  think? — she 
said  we'd  simply  got  to  use  her  chest  of  silver  and 
her  set  of  black  Chinese.  You  remember  it — it's 
that  English  ware — oh,  beautiful — -flowers  and 
pagodas  in  Chinese  coloring  against  a  background  of 
coal-black.  Well,  at  first  I  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  But 
she  said  she'd  run  all  the  risk  of  breakage.  She 
said  it  was  the  first  real  entertaining  we'd  done  since 
long  before  mother  died  and  she  wanted  it  to  be 
right.  Well,  when  she  talked  of  mother,  the  tears 
came  into  her  eyes  and,  of  course,  I  said  yes,  right 
away.  Aunt  Lottie  says  she's  going  to  have  a  new 
dress  too — a  black  and  white  foulard.  Oodles  of 
acceptances  came  to-day." 


302      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 


"  Well,  wonders  will  never  cease,"  she  greeted 
them  the  next  night.  "  Of  all  things  that  I  didn't 
expect.  Old  Mrs.  Gookin  called  this  morning  and 
asked  me  if  I  didn't  want  to  borrow  her  tulips  for 
the  party.  She  says  she  calculates  that  they'll  be 
in  full  bloom  then — they're  a  little  late.  You  know 
she  has  boxes  and  boxes — she's  a  wizard  at  making 
them  grow.  At  first  I  couldn't  think  of  it,  and  then, 
suddenly,  I  saw  how  wonderful  they'd  be  against  that 
new  brown  paper — how  they'd  just  light  the  house 
up.  And  I  said  yes.  And  then  the  next  moment, 
Betsy  Murray  called  up  and  asked  me  if  I  didn't 
want  to  use  their  brass  candlesticks.  She  remem- 
bered hearing  me  say  how  I  loved  candlelight.  You 
know  she  has  wonderful  candlesticks — some  beauti- 
ful sconces  among  them.  Of  course  I  said  yes. 
She's  going  to  express  them  out  to  me  the  day  of 
the  party.  Well,  Aunt  Lot's  maids  and  silver  and 
china  and  Mrs.  Gookin's  tulips  and  Betsy's  candle- 
sticks were  too  much  for  me.  I  beat  it  right  down 
to  the  Misses  Colby.  They  were  perfectly  wild— « 
they  say  they're  going  to  pull  off  a  party  that'll  make 
people  open  their  eyes.  And  then  on  my  way  back, 
I  met  the  Tuesday  Afternoon  girls  all  pouring  out 
of  Edwina's.  And  they  stopped  me  and  they  were 
so  nice,  said  they  were  all  coming.  They  kepi 
asking  me  if  they  couldn't  help,  and  finally,  I  don'i 
know  how  it  came  about — I  didn't  propose  it,  the] 
offered  it  themselves — they  asked  if  they  couldn' 
serve  as  floaters — to  circulate  round  at  the  receptior 
and  introduce  people  and  see  that  everybody  had  t 
good  time.  Of  course  I  said  yes,  and  now  I  don' 
feel  the  least  bit  worried  about  anything,  becaus« 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      303 

they  all  said  they'd  be  here  on  the  dot  of  nine. 
Wads  of  acceptances  came  to-day." 

"  People  have  been  calling  me  up  all  morning," 
Ann  announced  the  next  night,  "  to  ask  if  they  could 
bring  friends  who  were  visiting  them.  It  was 
awfully  nice  the  way  they'd  put  it.  '  I  wouldn't  ask 
if  she  weren't  a  charming  girl,'  or,  '  I  wouldn't  bother 
you  if  he  weren't  a  very  interesting  man.'  But  oh, 
the  awful  scare  Mrs.  Hunter  threw  into  me.  She 
said  she  wanted  to  bring  a  cousin — a  man.  And,  at 
first,  I  thought  it  was  that  one  who  has  epilepsy  and 
I  had  a  vision  of  him  throwing  a  fit  in  the  midst 
of  the  party  with  Mrs.  MacVeagh  there  and  Mrs. 
Farrington  and  Miss  Littledown.  Well,  I  nearly 
threw  a  fit  myself  right  there  at  the  telephone." 

"What  do  they  do  when  they  have  fits?  "  Roly 
asked  in  what  was  apparently  a  spirit  of  scientific 
inquiry. 

"  Oh,  gnash  their  teeth  and  roll  their  eyes  and 
kick,"  Ann  answered  with  a  superb  assumption  of 
complete  medical  information. 

"  Say,  if  he's  coming,  I'm  coming,"  Roly  an- 
nounced with  interest. 

"  He  isn't  coming."  Ann  cruelly  dashed  his 
hopes.  "  It  wasn't  that  one.  It's  a  poet  that's  com- 
ing. Yes,  the  way  they  all  said,  *  I  wouldn't  think  of 
bringing  a  bore  to  your  party,'  made  me  awfully 
happy." 

"  Oh,  that  reminds  me,"  Roly  broke  in.  "  Dink 
Hardy's  mother  asked  me  to-day  whether  it  was  to 
be  the  twenty-first  or  the  twenty-fifth — she  couldn't 
tell  from  your  writing  which  it  was.  You  know, 
Ann,  you  never  dot  your  i's  or  cross  your  f's.    I  told 


304      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

you,  you  ought  to  have  the  invitations  printed — 
you're  such  a  bum  writer." 

11  Oh,  my  stars !  "  Ann  ejaculated,  "  suppose  they 
come  on  the  twenty-first  instead  of  the  twenty-fifth. 
Oh,  what  shall  I  do.  Well,  I  won't  be  home  that 
night.     I  won't  face  them." 

"  Put  a  sign  in  the  window,"  said  the  care-free 
Roly,  ll  '  Party  Thursday.'  " 

"  Now,"  Ann  groaned,  "  I  shall  live  in  torment 
until  the  party's  over.  Rafts  of  acceptances  came 
to-day." 

"  Well,  this  afternoon  I  called  up  a  few  people 
that  I  hadn't  heard  from,"  Ann  said  the  next  night, 
41  and  they  all  said  my  invitations  read  for  the 
twenty-fifth;  so  I'm  not  bothering  about  that  any 
more.  That  one  is  probably  the  only  invitation  that 
I  did  so  badly.  All  I've  got  to  worry  about  now  is 
the  weather.  Oh,  Aunt  Margaret  called  me  up  and 
she  told  me  she  was  going  to  have  a  new  dress  for 
the  party.  It  sounded  perfectly  royal  as  she  de- 
scribed it  and  it  must  have  cost  billions  of  dollars — 
purple-velvet  brocade  on  cloth-of-gold — swell  goods 
but,  oh,  the  way  it's  going  to  be  made !  She'll  look 
exactly  like  Queen  Victoria.  Except  that  she's  going 
to  wear  that  fierce  set  of  lava  jewelry  that  she 
bought  in  Naples  on  her  honeymoon,  forty-sever 
years  ago.  Still  with  that  dress  and  all  that  lovel} 
hair,  she'll  give  the  party  a  lot  of  tone — if  she'll  onb 
keep  her  mouth  shut.  But  the  moment  she  says,  l . 
ain't  a-going  to,'  and,  *  I  can't  tell  nawthing  about  it 
— well,  that  make-up  isn't  going  to  do  her  a  bit  o 
good.  Oh,  I'm  so  tired  of  dressmaking.  Slews  o 
acceptances  came  to-day." 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      305 

Out  of  this  confusion  emerged  the  night — a  night 
clear  and  warm,  moonless  but  full  of  stars. 

The  two  lower  rooms  thrown  open,  gleamed  with 
light,  and  rioted  with  color.  On  walls  and  tables 
glittered  candles  in  sticks  of  lustrous  colonial  brass 
and  simple  colonial  shapes.  On  the  piano  and  man- 
tels fluttered  masses  of  tulips,  blood-crimson  and 
butter-yellow,  rising  straight  and  trim  from  their 
sheaths  of  green.  The  bared  old  maple  table  in  the 
dining-room  glistened  like  a  hexagonal  section  of 
massy  gold.  Against  it  came  out,  in  startling  con- 
trast, Aunt  Lottie's  dishes  of  black  Chinese.  Here, 
too,  glittered  candles  and  fluttered  tulips.  Lainey, 
Ann,  and  Bird,  in  their  slim  evening-gowns,  made  a 
mass  of  color  to  which  Beckie's  black-and-silver  con- 
tributed another  heightening  note.  Ed,  in  even- 
ing-clothes, with  his  inalienable  air  of  a  care- 
free royalty  performing  a  standardized  function, 
strolled  about  as  though  waiting  for  the  program 
to  begin.  Matt,  also  in  evening-clothes,  with  his  in- 
alienable air  of  an  important  official  performing 
a  new  duty,  leaped  from  room  to  room,  carrying 
out  Ann's  last  orders.  Roly,  not  in  evening-clothes, 
but  unnaturally  clean,  brushed,  and  polished,  sur- 
veyed everything  with  a  strong  expression  of  dis- 
approval. 

Suddenly,  a  paper  appeared  in  Ann's  hands. 
"  Now  get  together  all  of  you,  family/'  she  com- 
manded, "  right  here  in  front  of  me.  I've  some  last 
instructions  to  give  you.  I've  made  out  a  list  of 
things  you're  not  to  do.  Now  listen!  To  begin 
with,  you're  to  remember,  first,  last,  and  always,  to 
keep  it  formal.  I  can't  impress  that  on  you  too 
often.    Keep  it  formal/     For  that's  the  only  way; 


306      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 


we  can  make  a  success  of  this  party.  I  have  no 
advice  to  give  you,  Ed,  for  you're  the  only  member 
of  the  family  that  I  can  always  depend  on  to  do  the 
right  thing.  Except  this,  please  don't  say  anything 
about  dancing;  for  the  party  will  degenerate  the  mo- 
ment you  do  anything  like  that.  I  want  this  to  be 
absolutely  correct.  Now  you,  Matt — if  you  feel 
thirsty,  don't  you  go  out  and  get  beer  from  the  ice- 
chest,  the  way  you're  always  doing.  And,  Beckie, 
don't  you  ask  for  coffee  in  a  big  cup,  the  way  you 
did  once  at  one  of  Aunt  Lot's  teas.  And  I  nearly 
died  of  mortification  when  you  did  it  too.  Lainey, 
don't  you  dare  mention  the  word  Socialism.  And  if 
you  say  the  letters  I.  W.  W.,  I  shall  scream  and 
faint.  As  for  you,  Roly,  no  matter  what  you  start  to 
say,  don't  say  it.  It's  sure  to  be  some  fierce  break. 
I  have  had  all  the  chairs,  as  you  see,  moved  out  into 
the  kitchen.  Nobody  is  to  sit  down." 
-    M  Suppose  people  ask  for  chairs?  "  Matt  queried. 

14  Tell  them  to  leave  the  house,"  Ann  an- 
swered. 

"  And  don't  let  them  form  one  of  those  ghastly 
circles,"  she  went  on,  her  speed  unimpaired.  "  If 
they  do,  I  shall  call  up  the  police  or  put  in  an  alarm 
of  fire — anything  to  break  it  up.  I  will  not  have  one 
of  those  circles." 

"  Well,  how  are  they  going  to  talk  comfortably?  " 
Beckie  demanded. 

"They're  not  to  talk  comfortably,"  Ann  an- 
swered. "  They're  to  talk  uncomfortably.  This 
isn't  a  party  where  you're  supposed  to  have  a  good 
time." 

"  Suppose,"  Ed  suggested  gravely,  "  we  should 
find  a  group  enjoying  themselves." 


i 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      307 

"  Separate  them  at  once,"  Ann  said  with  her  first 
gleam  of  humor. 

"  Now  don't  say  anything,"  she  concluded,  "  that 
would  shock  Mrs.  MacVeagh,  Mrs.  Farrington,  or 
Miss  Littledown.  And,  remember,  KEEP  IT 
FORMAL!" 

This  was  at  eight.  At  nine  Ann  was  saying, 
"  Well,  I  know  it's  going  to  be  a  failure.  In  the 
first  place,  I  can  tell  by  the  way  I  look.  Did  you 
ever  see  anybody  so  yellow  and  haggard  and  hollow- 
eyed?  Why  didn't  I  get  some  rouge?  I  never  can 
be  entertaining  when  I  know  that  I  don't  look  well. 
And  in  the  second  place,  I  can  tell  by  the  way  I  feel 
that  nobody's  coming.  You  can  always  tell  when 
nobody's  coming — there's  a  kind  of  dull,  shivery, 
empty,  vacant,  dead  feeling  in  the  atmosphere. 
Those  rooms  seem  like  an  empty  prison  to  me.  And 
in  the  third  place — oh,  my  goodness,  there's  the  bell ! 
I  wonder  if  Hattie'll  hear  it.  Of  course  she  won't. 
She's  not  accustomed  to  the  sound  of  our  bell.  You 
go  to  the  door,  Matt.  Oh  no,  don't  do  that.  Tell 
Hattie,  somebody,  will  you?  She  isn't  hearing  it. 
Yes,  she  is.  No,  she  isn't.  Here  she  comes.  Re- 
member, KEEP  IT  FORMAL! ' 

At  halfpast  nine  a  score  of  people  had  arrived. 
The  banished  chairs,  as  though  exorcised  by  a  pres- 
tidigitator's skill,  had  reappeared,  had  formed  a 
perfect  circle  in  the  front  room.  At  one  side  Mrs. 
Gookin,  flourishing  her  ear-trumpet,  held  a  small 
group  of  the  neighbors  in  a  shouted  conversation. 
At  the  other  side  Aunt  Margaret,  fearfully  and 
wonderfully  gorgeous,  presided  over  a  small  court, 
made  up  of  relatives.     Lainey  circled  about  Mrs. 


308      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

Gookin,  translating  timidity  and  inarticulateness  int 
the  ear-trumpet.  Beckie  wove  about  Aunt  Margaret, 
answering  that  lady's  loud-voiced — and  ungram- 
matical — questions.  Ann  stood  in  the  background, 
glaring  frenzied-eyed  into  space.  "  I  don't  care 
what  happens  now,"  she  hissed  once  to  Bird.  "  The 
Tuesday  Afternoon  girls  have  failed  me.  I  know 
Mrs.  MacVeagh  and  Mrs.  Farrington  and  Miss 
Littledown  aren't  coming  and  it  doesn't  make  any 
difference  what  anybody  does.  They  can  hold  a 
temperance  meeting  if  they  want  to." 

At  quarter  to  ten  there  were  thirty  people  in  the 
room.  Still  the  circle  maintained  an  unbroken  per- 
fection. Still  the  two  groups  refused  to  mix.  "  Did 
you  ever  hear  anything  like  those  Tuesday  After- 
noon girls  not  being  here  yet?"  Ann  asked  Bird  in 

a  bitter  tone.     "  If  ever  I  trust  to Oh,  my 

goodness,  there's  Mrs.  MacVeagh's  motor!  Matt, 
Matt !  Mrs.  MacVeagh's  coming  up  the  steps.  Get 
rid  of  those  chairs." 

"How  can  I?"  Matt  demanded.  "People  are 
sitting  on  them." 

14  Pull  them  from  under  them,"  Ann  ordered  in 
a  distracted  tone. 

"Where'll  I  put  them?"  There  was  a  note 
that  approximated  hysteria  in  Matt's  masculine 
tone.     "  I  mean  the  people." 

"Throw  them  out  the  window — the  chairs,  I 
mean,"  Ann  answered.  M  Til  hold  her  upstairs  talk- 
ing while  you  get  them  to  stand  up — the  people,  I 
mean.    Praises  be,  here  come  the  girls." 

At  ten  there  were  nearly  a  hundred  people  in  the 
two  rooms.     Tall,  lithe,  brune,  piquant,  very  pic- 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      309 

turesque  in  her  cherry  and  gold,  the  center  of  a 
group  of  men,  Mrs.  MacVeagh  was  filling  the  room 
with  her  staccato  chatter  and  her  fluting  laugh. 
Pretty  and  gay,  the  Tuesday  Afternoon  girls  were 
circulating  briskly. 

"  Thank  heavens,"  Ann  said,  "  that  terrible  cir- 
cle is  broken  up.  Oh,  Ed,  here  comes  Mrs.  Far- 
rington.  Who's  that  getting  out  of  the  motor  with 
her?  Mike  Milligan!  Well,  what — when — how 
did  she  know  him?  M 

At  quarter  past  ten  the  rooms  were  filled.  Slim, 
delicate,  blonde,  exquisite,  very  elegant  in  her 
evening-gown  of  black  and  white,  the  center  of  a 
group  of  women,  Mrs.  Farrington  was  radiating  an 
atmosphere  of  cordiality  to  which  the  whole  gather- 
ing unconsciously  responded.  The  Tuesday  After- 
noon girls  had  succeeded  in  introducing  the  relatives 
to  neighbors  and  neighbors  to  relatives;  they  had 
broken  the  two  groups ;  mixed  them. 

"  If  only  Miss  Littledown  would  come,"  Ann 
confided  to  Bird,  "  I'd  be  perfectly  happy.  Oh, 
there's  her  car  now.  My  gracious,  isn't  that  a  won- 
derful gown — that  combination  of  dragon's  blood 
crimson  and  saffron-yellow?  Now  the  party's  going 
to  be  a  success." 

Color  flashed  like  rose-velvet  banners  in  Ann's 
wan  cheeks,  light  flashed  like  golden  signal  fires  in 
her  dull  eyes. 

At  halfpast  ten  the  rooms  were  impassable.  At 
eleven  the  maid  began  to  pass  the  food  which,  ac- 
cording to  Ann,  she  and  the  Misses  Colby  had 
"  designed  " — salads  carved  with  calyx  and  corolla 


310      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

that  looked  like  flowers  set  in  crisp  nests  of  tiny 
lettuce  leaves ;  ices  molded  with  stem  and  leaves  that 
looked  like  fruit  surrounded  by  lustrous  shavings 
of  frost  candy;  tiny  sandwiches  that  were  as  pretty 
as  cakes;  tiny  cakes  that  were  as  brilliant  as  jewels; 
coffee  that  ran  melted  topaz. 


Presently  people  began  to  leave — the  elderly  rela- 
tives first,  the  elderly  neighbors  next.  "  It's  been  a 
great  success,  Ann,"  Aunt  Lottie  whispered,  her 
eyes  wet.  "  I  wish  your  mother  and  father  had  been 
alive  to  see  it."  "  I  never  tasted  such  victuals  in  my 
life,"  Aunt  Margaret  announced  in  megaphone 
accents.  "  I  must  have  et  about  a  dozen  of  them 
little  sandwiches."  "  Now,  you  children,  keep  it  up, 
after  we  old  folks  have  gone,"  Mrs.  Gookin  com- 
manded in  stentorian  tones.  "  You  can't  be  young 
but  once,  you  know." 

Suddenly  the  room  was  half  empty. 

"  Say,"  Ann  suggested,  "  why  can't  we  dance? 
Maud,  can't  the  boys  go  over  to  your  place  and  get 
the  Victrola?" 

There  came  dancing  and  dancing  and  more 
dancing. 

In  the  midst  of  it,  Ann  went  out  into  the  kitchen 
to  dismiss  the  maids.  She  found  Mrs.  MacVeagh 
and  Matt,  sitting  opposite  each  other  at  the  kitchen- 
table,  dividing  a  bottle  of  beer.  She  stopped  to  talk 
with  them.  In  the  living-room  the  dancing  stopped 
suddenly.  The  music  did  not  start  up.  As  Ann 
re-entered  the  dining-room,  there  came  a  burst  of 
applause.  Mrs.  Farrington,  at  Mike  Milligan's  re- 
quest, was  giving  the  peroration  of  a  talk  which  she 


< 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company      311 

had  delivered  that  night  at  the  I.  W.  W.  head- 
quarters— u  Free  Speech  Fights  in  California. "  At 
its  close  dancing  started  again.  Suddenly  there  was 
a  clatter  outside  on  the  stairs.  The  living-room 
doors  flew  open  to  admit  Miss  Littledown  and  Ed 
in  the  Dutch  costumes  left  over  from  the  Bazaar  of 
All  Nations.  Amid  plaudits,  they  executed  a  spirited 
clog. 

Then  came  dancing  and  dancing  and  more  danc- 
ing. 

This  was  broken  by  a  sudden  raid  on  the  ice-box 
for  beer  and  on  the  kitchen-closet  for  crackers  and 
cheese. 

Then  came  dancing  and  dancing  and  more  danc- 
ing. 

It  was  two  o'clock  before  the  last  guest  left.  It 
was  three  before  Ed,  Matt,  and  Roly,  still  dropping 
remarks,  mounted  the  stairs  to  their  rooms.  It  was 
four  o'clock  before  Beckie,  Lainey,  and  Bird,  still 
gasping  comments,  crawled  into  bed.  Five  o'clock 
found  Ann,  still  sparkle-eyed  and  joy-flushed,  sit- 
ting at  the  window. 

"  Oh,  it  was  so  beautiful,"  she  sighed.  "  Just  the 
way  I  wanted  it  to  be — so  smart  and  correct  and 
formal  at  first,  and  so  gay  and  unconventional  and 
informal  at  the  end.  Anybody  can  have  a  stiff  dull 
affair,  but  it  takes  a  real  social  instinct  to  give  a 
party  that's  full  of  pep.  I  guess  we've  inherited 
father's  and  mother's  gift  that  way.  Weren't  Mrs. 
MacVeagh  and  Mrs.  Farrington  and  Miss  Little- 
down  lovely?  " 

She  waited. 

"  Yes,"  came  almost  inaudibly  from  her  listeners. 


312      The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company 

11  Just  think  of  Mrs.  Farrington  talking  to  the  L 
W.  W.'s.  I  can't  get  over  that.  It's  simply  impossi- 
ble nowadays  to  keep  up  with  what's  the  correct  thing 
to  do.  You  can  do  almost  anything,  though,  and  get 
away  with  it,  if  you've  got  social  position.  And,  oh — 
just  think  of  me  forgetting  this.  Jane  Forrester  said 
I  simply  must  reconsider  my  refusal  and  join  the 
Tuesday  Afternoon  Club.  Ed  was  standing  near 
and  she  appealed  to  him — and  Ed  said  I  must  and 
I'm  going  to.  Later,  Ed  told  me  he'd  pay  any  extra 
expenses  about  entertaining.  Wasn't  that  sweet  of 
him,  Beckie?" 

She  waited. 

11  Yes,"  came  in  sleep-laden  notes  from  Beckie 

u  And  I  thought  Miss  Larkin  was  perfectly  dear 
in  that  quaint  little,  black-and-white  striped  soft 
silk  and  that  nice  old  lace  and  all  those  amethysts 
and  that  darling  bunch  of  pansies.  She  looked  like 
a  real  swell.  You  hardly  noticed  her  St.  Vitus's 
dance.  Mrs.  Farrington  was  so  nice  to  her.  And 
I  don't  know  what  I  would  have  done  if  Gus  Clark 
hadn't  helped  Matt  get  the  chairs  out  that  time. 
And,  oh,  Lainey,  you  didn't  tell  me  that  Mike  Milli- 
gan  was  such  a  peach  dancer.  I  could  die  fox- 
trotting with  him.  Did  you  do  the  hesitation  with 
him?" 

She  waited. 

"  Yes,"  came  in  drowse-filled  accents  from  Lainey 

"I  feel  just  like  a  regular  girl  to-night,"  Anr 
went  on,  her  •vivacity  unimpaired.  *  "  I  feel  fiv( 
years  younger  all  of  a  sudden.  I  had  a  convictior 
that  I  never  was  going  to  have  any  youth.  But  nov 
I'm  really  going  to  have  it.    Isn't  that  lovely,  Bird?  ' 

She  waited. 


The  Pleasure  of  Your  Company       313 

"  Yes,"  came  in  slumber-drenched  tones  from 
Bird. 

There  followed  a  long  interval  of  silence. 

An  old  moon,  like  a  wrecked  ship  white-sailed, 
was  careening  on  a  sky  like  a  violet  sea.  Swarms 
of  stars,  like  tiny  silver  birds,  hung  about  that  ship ; 
myriads  of  clouds,  like  filmy  fairy  fish,  floated  in 
that  sea.  A  breeze  brought  the  breath  of  the  hya- 
cinths into  the  room;  then  the  daffodils.  A  bird 
dropped  a  little  jewel  of  sound  into  the  quiet  air, 
another  and  another,  until  the  world  was  full  of 
wide-awake  peepings.  Suddenly  above  the  furry 
tree-line  appeared  a  rose-gold  disk. 

"  But  best  of  it  all  is,"  Ann  concluded — and  this 
time  she  spoke  softly,  as  though  she  were  addressing 
the  rising  sun — "  we're  on  the  map  again.  The 
Ollivant  family  has  come  back." 


THE  END 


A  SELECTION  OF  BOOKS 
PUBLISHED  BY  METHUEN 
AND  CO.  LTD.  LONDON 
|         36  ESSEX   STREET 

W.C. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PAGE 

Seneral  Literature 

2 

Miniature  Library     . 

19 

Ancient  Cities    .... 

12 

New  Library  of  Medicine 

19 

Antiquary  s  Books    . 

12 

New  Library  of  Music    . 

20 

Arden  Shakespeare  . 

13 

Oxford  Biographies  . 

20 

Classics  of  Art 

13 

Seven  Plays       . 

20 

'Complete'  Series     . 

M 

Sport  Series 

20 

Connoisseur's  Library 

14 

States  of  Italy  . 

20 

Handbooks  of  English  Church 

Westminster  Commentaries 

20 

History 

15 

1  Young '  Series  . 

21 

Handbooks  of  Theology 

15 

Shilling  Library 

21 

Health  Series     . 

15 

Books  for  Travellers 

22 

1  Home  Life '  Series  . 

15 

Some  Books  on  Art. 

22 

Leaders  of  Religion                 . 

16 

Some  Books  on  Italy 

23 

Library  of  Devotion 

16 

Little  Books  on  Art 

17 

Fiction 

24 

Little  Guides     . 

17 

Books  for  Boys  and  Girls 

29 

Little  Library    .... 

18 

Shilling  Novels  . 

29 

Little  Quarto  Shakespeare    . 

19 

Sevenpenny  Novels  . 

3* 

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Russell. 

My  Husband  and  I.     Leo  Tolstoy. 

Mystery  ok  Dr.   Fu-Manchu,   The.     Sax 
Rohnicr. 

Mystery    of    the    Green    Heart,     The. 
Max  Pemberton. 

Nine  Days'  Wonder,  A.     B.  M.  Croker. 

Ocean  Sleuth,  The.     Maurice  Drake. 

Old  Rose  and  Silver.     Myrtle  Reed. 


Methuen's  Shilling  Novels— continued. 

Gate  of  the  Desert,  The.   John  Oxenham. 

Gates  ok  Wrath,  The.     Arnold  Bennett. 

Gentleman    Adventurer,    The.      H.    C. 
Bailey. 

Golden  Centipede,  The.     Louise  Gerard. 

Governor    ok    England,    The.      Marjorie 
Bowen. 

Guarded  Flame,  The.     W.  B.  Maxwell. 

Halo,  The.     Baroness  von  Hutten. 

Heart    of    the     Ancient    Wood,     The. 
Charles  G.  I).  Roberts. 

Heather  Moon,  The.     C.  N.   and   A.   M. 

Williamson. 

Hill  Rise.     W.  B.  Maxwell. 

House    ok    Serravalle,     The.       Richard 
Bagot. 

Hyena  ok  Kallu,  The.     Louise  Gerard. 

Jane.     Marie  Corelli. 

Joseph.     Frank  Danby. 

Lady   Betty  Across  the  Water.      C.  N. 
and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Lalage's  Lovers.     G.  A.  Birmingham. 

Lantern  Bearers,  The.     Mrs.  Alfred  Sidg- 


Pathway   ok   the    Pioneer,    The. 

Wyllarde. 
Peggy  of  the  Bartons.    B.  M.  Croker. 
Peter  and  Jane.     S.  Macnaughtan. 

Quest  ok  the  Golden  Rose,  The.    Johr 
Oxenham. 

Regent,  The.     Arnold  Bennett. 

Remington     Sentence,     The.      W 
Ridge. 

Round  the  Red  Lamp.   Sir  A.  Conan 

SaTd,  the  Fisherman.      Marmaduke 

thall. 
Sally.     Dorothea  Conyers. 
Sandy  Married.     Dorothea  Conyers. 
Sea  Captain,  The.    H.  C.  Bailey. 
Sea  Lady,  The.     H.  G.  Wells. 
Search  Party,  The.     G.  A.  Birmingham. 
Secret  Woman,  The.    Eden  Phillpotts. 

Set  in  Silver.     C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Wil 

son. 

Short  Cruises.    W.  W.  Jacobs. 
Spanish  Gold.     G.  A.  Birmingham 
Spinner  in  the  Sun,  A.     Myrtle  Reed 
Street    called    Straight,    The. 
King. 

Tales  ok  Mean  Streets.     Arthur  Mor 

Teresa    or    Watling     Street. 
Bennett. 

The  Secret  Agent.     John  Conrad. 

There  was  a  Crooked  Man.    Dolf  Wyll 

Tyrant,  The.     Mrs.  Henry  de  la  Pastu 

Under  the  Red  Robe.    Stanley  J.  We 

Unofficial      Honeymoon,      The.        Do 
Wyllarde. 

Virginia  Perfect.     Peggy  Webling. 

Wallet  of  Kai  Lung.     Ernest  Bramah. 

Ware  Case,  The.     George  Pleydell. 

Way  Home,  The.     Basil  King. 

Way  of  these  Women,  The.     E.  Phil 
Oppenheim. 

Weaver  of  Webs,  A.    John  Oxenham. 

Wedding    Day,   The.      C.   N.   and  A. 

Williamson. 

White  Fang.     Jack  London. 

Wild  Olive,  The.     Basil  King. 

Woman    with    the    Fan,     The.      Ro 
Hichens. 

WO2.     Maurice  Drake. 


Fiction 


3i 


Methuen's  Sevenpenny  Novels 

Fcap.  Svo.    Jd.  net 


Angel.     B.  M.  Croker. 

Barbara  Rebell.     Mrs.  Belloc  Lowndes. 

Blunder    of    an    Innocent,    The.        E. 

Maria  Albanesi. 
Broom  Squire,  The.     S.  Baring-Gould. 
By  Stroke  of  Sword.     Andrew  Balfour. 
Count's    Chauffeur,    The.       William    le 

Queux. 
Derrick      Vaughan,      Novelist.       Edna 

Lyall. 
Dodo.     E.  F.  Benson. 
Drama  in  Sunshine,  A.     H.  A.  Vachell. 
Drift.     L.  T.  Meade. 
Green  Graves  of  Balgowrie,  The.    Jane 

H.  Findlater. 
Heart  of  His  Heart.     E.  M.  Albanesi. 
House    of    Whispers,    The.      William    le 

Queux. 
Human  Boy,  The.     Eden  Phillpotts. 
I  Crown  Thee  King.     Max  Pemberton. 
Inca's  Treasure,  The.     E.  Glanville. 
In  the  Roar  of  the  Sea.    S.  Baring-Gould. 
Into  Temptation.    Alice  Perrin. 


Katherine    the    Arrogant.     Mrs.   B.  M. 
Croker. 

Lady  in  the  Car,  The.     William  le  Queux. 

Late  in  Life.     Alice  Perrin. 

Lone  Pine.     R.  B.  Townshend. 

Master  of  Men.     E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Miser  Hoadley's  Secret.    A.  W.  March- 
mont. 

Mixed  Marriage,  A.     Mrs.  F.  E.  Penny. 

Moment's  Error,  A.     A.  W.  Marchmont. 

Mother's  Son,  A.     B.  and  C.  B.  Fry. 

Peter,  a  Parasite.     E.  Maria  Albanesi. 

Pomp  of  the  Lavilettes,  The.     Sir  Gilbert 
Parker. 

Prince    Rupert    the    Buccaneer.     C    J. 
Cutcliffe  Hyne. 

Princess  Virginia,  The.     C.  N.  and  A.  M. 
Williamson. 

Profit  and  Loss.     John  Oxenham. 

Red  Derelict,  The.     Bertram  Mitford. 

Red  House,  The.     E.  Nesbit. 

Sign  of  the  Spider,  The.    Bertram  Mitford 

Son  of  the  State,  A.     W.  Pett  Ridge. 

WOa.     Maurice  Drake. 


4/10/16 


Printed  by  Morrison  &  Gibb  Limited,   Edinburgh 


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