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diff --git a/980-h/980-h.htm b/980-h/980-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..55bfdf1 --- /dev/null +++ b/980-h/980-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13152 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Alice Adams, by Booth Tarkington + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Alice Adams, by Booth Tarkington + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Alice Adams + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Release Date: July 21, 2008 [EBook #980] +Last Updated: March 3, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALICE ADAMS *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + ALICE ADAMS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Booth Tarkington + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + The patient, an old-fashioned man, thought the nurse made a mistake in + keeping both of the windows open, and her sprightly disregard of his + protests added something to his hatred of her. Every evening he told her + that anybody with ordinary gumption ought to realize that night air was + bad for the human frame. “The human frame won't stand everything, Miss + Perry,” he warned her, resentfully. “Even a child, if it had just ordinary + gumption, ought to know enough not to let the night air blow on sick + people yes, nor well people, either! 'Keep out of the night air, no matter + how well you feel.' That's what my mother used to tell me when I was a + boy. 'Keep out of the night air, Virgil,' she'd say. 'Keep out of the + night air.'” + </p> + <p> + “I expect probably her mother told her the same thing,” the nurse + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Of course she did. My grandmother——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess your GRANDmother thought so, Mr. Adams! That was when all + this flat central country was swampish and hadn't been drained off yet. I + guess the truth must been the swamp mosquitoes bit people and gave 'em + malaria, especially before they began to put screens in their windows. + Well, we got screens in these windows, and no mosquitoes are goin' to bite + us; so just you be a good boy and rest your mind and go to sleep like you + need to.” + </p> + <p> + “Sleep?” he said. “Likely!” + </p> + <p> + He thought the night air worst of all in April; he hadn't a doubt it would + kill him, he declared. “It's miraculous what the human frame WILL + survive,” he admitted on the last evening of that month. “But you and the + doctor ought to both be taught it won't stand too dang much! You poison a + man and poison and poison him with this April night air——” + </p> + <p> + “Can't poison you with much more of it,” Miss Perry interrupted him, + indulgently. “To-morrow it'll be May night air, and I expect that'll be a + lot better for you, don't you? Now let's just sober down and be a good boy + and get some nice sound sleep.” + </p> + <p> + She gave him his medicine, and, having set the glass upon the center + table, returned to her cot, where, after a still interval, she snored + faintly. Upon this, his expression became that of a man goaded out of + overpowering weariness into irony. + </p> + <p> + “Sleep? Oh, CERTAINLY, thank you!” + </p> + <p> + However, he did sleep intermittently, drowsed between times, and even + dreamed; but, forgetting his dreams before he opened his eyes, and having + some part of him all the while aware of his discomfort, he believed, as + usual, that he lay awake the whole night long. He was conscious of the + city as of some single great creature resting fitfully in the dark outside + his windows. It lay all round about, in the damp cover of its night cloud + of smoke, and tried to keep quiet for a few hours after midnight, but was + too powerful a growing thing ever to lie altogether still. Even while it + strove to sleep it muttered with digestions of the day before, and these + already merged with rumblings of the morrow. “Owl” cars, bringing in last + passengers over distant trolley-lines, now and then howled on a curve; + faraway metallic stirrings could be heard from factories in the sooty + suburbs on the plain outside the city; east, west, and south, + switch-engines chugged and snorted on sidings; and everywhere in the air + there seemed to be a faint, voluminous hum as of innumerable wires + trembling overhead to vibration of machinery underground. + </p> + <p> + In his youth Adams might have been less resentful of sounds such as these + when they interfered with his night's sleep: even during an illness he + might have taken some pride in them as proof of his citizenship in a “live + town”; but at fifty-five he merely hated them because they kept him awake. + They “pressed on his nerves,” as he put it; and so did almost everything + else, for that matter. + </p> + <p> + He heard the milk-wagon drive into the cross-street beneath his windows + and stop at each house. The milkman carried his jars round to the “back + porch,” while the horse moved slowly ahead to the gate of the next + customer and waited there. “He's gone into Pollocks',” Adams thought, + following this progress. “I hope it'll sour on 'em before breakfast. + Delivered the Andersons'. Now he's getting out ours. Listen to the darn + brute! What's HE care who wants to sleep!” His complaint was of the horse, + who casually shifted weight with a clink of steel shoes on the worn brick + pavement of the street, and then heartily shook himself in his harness, + perhaps to dislodge a fly far ahead of its season. Light had just filmed + the windows; and with that the first sparrow woke, chirped instantly, and + roused neighbours in the trees of the small yard, including a loud-voiced + robin. Vociferations began irregularly, but were soon unanimous. + </p> + <p> + “Sleep? Dang likely now, ain't it!” + </p> + <p> + Night sounds were becoming day sounds; the far-away hooting of + freight-engines seemed brisker than an hour ago in the dark. A cheerful + whistler passed the house, even more careless of sleepers than the + milkman's horse had been; then a group of coloured workmen came by, and + although it was impossible to be sure whether they were homeward bound + from night-work or on their way to day-work, at least it was certain that + they were jocose. Loose, aboriginal laughter preceded them afar, and beat + on the air long after they had gone by. + </p> + <p> + The sick-room night-light, shielded from his eyes by a newspaper propped + against a water-pitcher, still showed a thin glimmering that had grown + offensive to Adams. In his wandering and enfeebled thoughts, which were + much more often imaginings than reasonings, the attempt of the night-light + to resist the dawn reminded him of something unpleasant, though he could + not discover just what the unpleasant thing was. Here was a puzzle that + irritated him the more because he could not solve it, yet always seemed + just on the point of a solution. However, he may have lost nothing + cheerful by remaining in the dark upon the matter; for if he had been a + little sharper in this introspection he might have concluded that the + squalor of the night-light, in its seeming effort to show against the + forerunning of the sun itself, had stimulated some half-buried perception + within him to sketch the painful little synopsis of an autobiography. + </p> + <p> + In spite of noises without, he drowsed again, not knowing that he did; and + when he opened his eyes the nurse was just rising from her cot. He took no + pleasure in the sight, it may be said. She exhibited to him a face + mismodelled by sleep, and set like a clay face left on its cheek in a hot + and dry studio. She was still only in part awake, however, and by the time + she had extinguished the night-light and given her patient his tonic, she + had recovered enough plasticity. “Well, isn't that grand! We've had + another good night,” she said as she departed to dress in the bathroom. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you had another!” he retorted, though not until after she had closed + the door. + </p> + <p> + Presently he heard his daughter moving about in her room across the narrow + hall, and so knew that she had risen. He hoped she would come in to see + him soon, for she was the one thing that didn't press on his nerves, he + felt; though the thought of her hurt him, as, indeed, every thought hurt + him. But it was his wife who came first. + </p> + <p> + She wore a lank cotton wrapper, and a crescent of gray hair escaped to one + temple from beneath the handkerchief she had worn upon her head for the + night and still retained; but she did everything possible to make her + expression cheering. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're better again! I can see that, as soon as I look at you,” she + said. “Miss Perry tells me you've had another splendid night.” + </p> + <p> + He made a sound of irony, which seemed to dispose unfavourably of Miss + Perry, and then, in order to be more certainly intelligible, he added, + “She slept well, as usual!” + </p> + <p> + But his wife's smile persisted. “It's a good sign to be cross; it means + you're practically convalescent right now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am, am I?” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt in the world!” she exclaimed. “Why, you're practically a well + man, Virgil—all except getting your strength back, of course, and + that isn't going to take long. You'll be right on your feet in a couple of + weeks from now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I will?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you will!” She laughed briskly, and, going to the table in the + center of the room, moved his glass of medicine an inch or two, turned a + book over so that it lay upon its other side, and for a few moments + occupied herself with similar futilities, having taken on the air of a + person who makes things neat, though she produced no such actual effect + upon them. “Of course you will,” she repeated, absently. “You'll be as + strong as you ever were; maybe stronger.” She paused for a moment, not + looking at him, then added, cheerfully, “So that you can fly around and + find something really good to get into.” + </p> + <p> + Something important between them came near the surface here, for though + she spoke with what seemed but a casual cheerfulness, there was a little + betraying break in her voice, a trembling just perceptible in the + utterance of the final word. And she still kept up the affectation of + being helpfully preoccupied with the table, and did not look at her + husband—perhaps because they had been married so many years that + without looking she knew just what his expression would be, and preferred + to avoid the actual sight of it as long as possible. Meanwhile, he stared + hard at her, his lips beginning to move with little distortions not + lacking in the pathos of a sick man's agitation. + </p> + <p> + “So that's it,” he said. “That's what you're hinting at.” + </p> + <p> + “'Hinting?'” Mrs. Adams looked surprised and indulgent. “Why, I'm not + doing any hinting, Virgil.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say about my finding 'something good to get into?'” he + asked, sharply. “Don't you call that hinting?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams turned toward him now; she came to the bedside and would have + taken his hand, but he quickly moved it away from her. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't let yourself get nervous,” she said. “But of course when you + get well there's only one thing to do. You mustn't go back to that old + hole again.” + </p> + <p> + “'Old hole?' That's what you call it, is it?” In spite of his weakness, + anger made his voice strident, and upon this stimulation she spoke more + urgently. + </p> + <p> + “You just mustn't go back to it, Virgil. It's not fair to any of us, and + you know it isn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell me what I know, please!” + </p> + <p> + She clasped her hands, suddenly carrying her urgency to plaintive + entreaty. “Virgil, you WON'T go back to that hole?” + </p> + <p> + “That's a nice word to use to me!” he said. “Call a man's business a + hole!” + </p> + <p> + “Virgil, if you don't owe it to me to look for something different, don't + you owe it to your children? Don't tell me you won't do what we all want + you to, and what you know in your heart you ought to! And if you HAVE got + into one of your stubborn fits and are bound to go back there for no other + reason except to have your own way, don't tell me so, for I can't bear + it!” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at her fiercely. “You've got a fine way to cure a sick man!” + he said; but she had concluded her appeal—for that time—and + instead of making any more words in the matter, let him see that there + were tears in her eyes, shook her head, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Alone, he lay breathing rapidly, his emaciated chest proving itself equal + to the demands his emotion put upon it. “Fine!” he repeated, with husky + indignation. “Fine way to cure a sick man! Fine!” Then, after a silence, + he gave forth whispering sounds as of laughter, his expression the while + remaining sore and far from humour. + </p> + <p> + “And give us our daily bread!” he added, meaning that his wife's little + performance was no novelty. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + In fact, the agitation of Mrs. Adams was genuine, but so well under her + control that its traces vanished during the three short steps she took to + cross the narrow hall between her husband's door and the one opposite. Her + expression was matter-of-course, rather than pathetic, as she entered the + pretty room where her daughter, half dressed, sat before a dressing-table + and played with the reflections of a three-leafed mirror framed in blue + enamel. That is, just before the moment of her mother's entrance, Alice + had been playing with the mirror's reflections—posturing her arms + and her expressions, clasping her hands behind her neck, and tilting back + her head to foreshorten the face in a tableau conceived to represent + sauciness, then one of smiling weariness, then one of scornful toleration, + and all very piquant; but as the door opened she hurriedly resumed the + practical, and occupied her hands in the arrangement of her plentiful + brownish hair. + </p> + <p> + They were pretty hands, of a shapeliness delicate and fine. “The best + things she's got!” a cold-blooded girl friend said of them, and meant to + include Alice's mind and character in the implied list of possessions + surpassed by the notable hands. However that may have been, the rest of + her was well enough. She was often called “a right pretty girl”—temperate + praise meaning a girl rather pretty than otherwise, and this she deserved, + to say the least. Even in repose she deserved it, though repose was + anything but her habit, being seldom seen upon her except at home. On + exhibition she led a life of gestures, the unkind said to make her lovely + hands more memorable; but all of her usually accompanied the gestures of + the hands, the shoulders ever giving them their impulses first, and even + her feet being called upon, at the same time, for eloquence. + </p> + <p> + So much liveliness took proper place as only accessory to that of the + face, where her vivacity reached its climax; and it was unfortunate that + an ungifted young man, new in the town, should have attempted to define + the effect upon him of all this generosity of emphasis. He said that “the + way she used her cute hazel eyes and the wonderful glow of her facial + expression gave her a mighty spiritual quality.” His actual rendition of + the word was “spirichul”; but it was not his pronunciation that embalmed + this outburst in the perennial laughter of Alice's girl friends; they made + the misfortune far less his than hers. + </p> + <p> + Her mother comforted her too heartily, insisting that Alice had “plenty + enough spiritual qualities,” certainly more than possessed by the other + girls who flung the phrase at her, wooden things, jealous of everything + they were incapable of themselves; and then Alice, getting more + championship than she sought, grew uneasy lest Mrs. Adams should repeat + such defenses “outside the family”; and Mrs. Adams ended by weeping + because the daughter so distrusted her intelligence. Alice frequently + thought it necessary to instruct her mother. + </p> + <p> + Her morning greeting was an instruction to-day; or, rather, it was an + admonition in the style of an entreaty, the more petulant as Alice thought + that Mrs. Adams might have had a glimpse of the posturings to the mirror. + This was a needless worry; the mother had caught a thousand such glimpses, + with Alice unaware, and she thought nothing of the one just flitted. + </p> + <p> + “For heaven's sake, mama, come clear inside the room and shut the door! + PLEASE don't leave it open for everybody to look at me!” + </p> + <p> + “There isn't anybody to see you,” Mrs. Adams explained, obeying. “Miss + Perry's gone downstairs, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Mama, I heard you in papa's room,” Alice said, not dropping the note of + complaint. “I could hear both of you, and I don't think you ought to get + poor old papa so upset—not in his present condition, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams seated herself on the edge of the bed. “He's better all the + time,” she said, not disturbed. “He's almost well. The doctor says so and + Miss Perry says so; and if we don't get him into the right frame of mind + now we never will. The first day he's outdoors he'll go back to that old + hole—you'll see! And if he once does that, he'll settle down there + and it'll be too late and we'll never get him out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyhow, I think you could use a little more tact with him.” + </p> + <p> + “I do try to,” the mother sighed. “It never was much use with him. I don't + think you understand him as well as I do, Alice.” + </p> + <p> + “There's one thing I don't understand about either of you,” Alice + returned, crisply. “Before people get married they can do anything they + want to with each other. Why can't they do the same thing after they're + married? When you and papa were young people and engaged, he'd have done + anything you wanted him to. That must have been because you knew how to + manage him then. Why can't you go at him the same way now?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams sighed again, and laughed a little, making no other response; + but Alice persisted. “Well, WHY can't you? Why can't you ask him to do + things the way you used to ask him when you were just in love with each + other? Why don't you anyhow try it, mama, instead of ding-donging at him?” + </p> + <p> + “'Ding-donging at him,' Alice?” Mrs. Adams said, with a pathos somewhat + emphasized. “Is that how my trying to do what I can for you strikes you?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that; it's nothing to hurt your feelings.” Alice disposed of + the pathos briskly. “Why don't you answer my question? What's the matter + with using a little more tact on papa? Why can't you treat him the way you + probably did when you were young people, before you were married? I never + have understood why people can't do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you WILL understand some day,” her mother said, gently. “Maybe + you will when you've been married twenty-five years.” + </p> + <p> + “You keep evading. Why don't you answer my question right straight out?” + </p> + <p> + “There are questions you can't answer to young people, Alice.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean because we're too young to understand the answer? I don't see + that at all. At twenty-two a girl's supposed to have some intelligence, + isn't she? And intelligence is the ability to understand, isn't it? Why do + I have to wait till I've lived with a man twenty-five years to understand + why you can't be tactful with papa?” + </p> + <p> + “You may understand some things before that,” Mrs. Adams said, + tremulously. “You may understand how you hurt me sometimes. Youth can't + know everything by being intelligent, and by the time you could understand + the answer you're asking for you'd know it, and wouldn't need to ask. You + don't understand your father, Alice; you don't know what it takes to + change him when he's made up his mind to be stubborn.” + </p> + <p> + Alice rose and began to get herself into a skirt. “Well, I don't think + making scenes ever changes anybody,” she grumbled. “I think a little jolly + persuasion goes twice as far, myself.” + </p> + <p> + “'A little jolly persuasion!'” Her mother turned the echo of this phrase + into an ironic lament. “Yes, there was a time when I thought that, too! It + didn't work; that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you left the 'jolly' part of it out, mama.” + </p> + <p> + For the second time that morning—it was now a little after seven + o'clock—tears seemed about to offer their solace to Mrs. Adams. “I + might have expected you to say that, Alice; you never do miss a chance,” + she said, gently. “It seems queer you don't some time miss just ONE + chance!” + </p> + <p> + But Alice, progressing with her toilet, appeared to be little concerned. + “Oh, well, I think there are better ways of managing a man than just + hammering at him.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams uttered a little cry of pain. “'Hammering,' Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “If you'd left it entirely to me,” her daughter went on, briskly, “I + believe papa'd already be willing to do anything we want him to.” + </p> + <p> + “That's it; tell me I spoil everything. Well, I won't interfere from now + on, you can be sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Please don't talk like that,” Alice said, quickly. “I'm old enough to + realize that papa may need pressure of all sorts; I only think it makes + him more obstinate to get him cross. You probably do understand him + better, but that's one thing I've found out and you haven't. There!” She + gave her mother a friendly tap on the shoulder and went to the door. “I'll + hop in and say hello to him now.” + </p> + <p> + As she went, she continued the fastening of her blouse, and appeared in + her father's room with one hand still thus engaged, but she patted his + forehead with the other. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old papa-daddy!” she said, gaily. “Every time he's better somebody + talks him into getting so mad he has a relapse. It's a shame!” + </p> + <p> + Her father's eyes, beneath their melancholy brows, looked up at her + wistfully. “I suppose you heard your mother going for me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you going for her, too!” Alice laughed. “What was it all about?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the same danged old story!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean she wants you to try something new when you get well?” Alice + asked, with cheerful innocence. “So we could all have a lot more money?” + </p> + <p> + At this his sorrowful forehead was more sorrowful than ever. The deep + horizontal lines moved upward to a pattern of suffering so familiar to his + daughter that it meant nothing to her; but he spoke quietly. “Yes; so we + wouldn't have any money at all, most likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she laughed, and, finishing with her blouse, patted his cheeks + with both hands. “Just think how many grand openings there must be for a + man that knows as much as you do! I always did believe you could get rich + if you only cared to, papa.” + </p> + <p> + But upon his forehead the painful pattern still deepened. “Don't you think + we've always had enough, the way things are, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the way things ARE!” She patted his cheeks again; laughed again. “It + used to be enough, maybe anyway we did skimp along on it—but the way + things are now I expect mama's really pretty practical in her ideas, + though, I think it's a shame for her to bother you about it while you're + so weak. Don't you worry about it, though; just think about other things + till you get strong.” + </p> + <p> + “You know,” he said; “you know it isn't exactly the easiest thing in the + world for a man of my age to find these grand openings you speak of. And + when you've passed half-way from fifty to sixty you're apt to see some + risk in giving up what you know how to do and trying something new.” + </p> + <p> + “My, what a frown!” she cried, blithely. “Didn't I tell you to stop + thinking about it till you get ALL well?” She bent over him, giving him a + gay little kiss on the bridge of his nose. “There! I must run to + breakfast. Cheer up now! Au 'voir!” And with her pretty hand she waved + further encouragement from the closing door as she departed. + </p> + <p> + Lightsomely descending the narrow stairway, she whistled as she went, her + fingers drumming time on the rail; and, still whistling, she came into the + dining-room, where her mother and her brother were already at the table. + The brother, a thin and sallow boy of twenty, greeted her without much + approval as she took her place. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing seems to trouble you!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No; nothing much,” she made airy response. “What's troubling yourself, + Walter?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let that worry you!” he returned, seeming to consider this to be + repartee of an effective sort; for he furnished a short laugh to go with + it, and turned to his coffee with the manner of one who has satisfactorily + closed an episode. + </p> + <p> + “Walter always seems to have so many secrets!” Alice said, studying him + shrewdly, but with a friendly enough amusement in her scrutiny. + “Everything he does or says seems to be acted for the benefit of some + mysterious audience inside himself, and he always gets its applause. Take + what he said just now: he seems to think it means something, but if it + does, why, that's just another secret between him and the secret audience + inside of him! We don't really know anything about Walter at all, do we, + mama?” + </p> + <p> + Walter laughed again, in a manner that sustained her theory well enough; + then after finishing his coffee, he took from his pocket a flattened + packet in glazed blue paper; extracted with stained fingers a bent and + wrinkled little cigarette, lighted it, hitched up his belted trousers with + the air of a person who turns from trifles to things better worth his + attention, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Alice laughed as the door closed. “He's ALL secrets,” she said. “Don't you + think you really ought to know more about him, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure he's a good boy,” Mrs. Adams returned, thoughtfully. “He's been + very brave about not being able to have the advantages that are enjoyed by + the boys he's grown up with. I've never heard a word of complaint from + him.” + </p> + <p> + “About his not being sent to college?” Alice cried. “I should think you + wouldn't! He didn't even have enough ambition to finish high school!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams sighed. “It seemed to me Walter lost his ambition when nearly + all the boys he'd grown up with went to Eastern schools to prepare for + college, and we couldn't afford to send him. If only your father would + have listened——” + </p> + <p> + Alice interrupted: “What nonsense! Walter hated books and studying, and + athletics, too, for that matter. He doesn't care for anything nice that I + ever heard of. What do you suppose he does like, mama? He must like + something or other somewhere, but what do you suppose it is? What does he + do with his time?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the poor boy's at Lamb and Company's all day. He doesn't get through + until five in the afternoon; he doesn't HAVE much time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we never have dinner until about seven, and he's always late for + dinner, and goes out, heaven knows where, right afterward!” Alice shook + her head. “He used to go with our friends' boys, but I don't think he does + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how could he?” Mrs. Adams protested. “That isn't his fault, poor + child! The boys he knew when he was younger are nearly all away at + college.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he doesn't see anything of 'em when they're here at holiday-time + or vacation. None of 'em come to the house any more.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he's made other friends. It's natural for him to want + companions, at his age.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Alice said, with disapproving emphasis. “But who are they? I've got + an idea he plays pool at some rough place down-town.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; I'm sure he's a steady boy,” Mrs. Adams protested, but her tone + was not that of thoroughgoing conviction, and she added, “Life might be a + very different thing for him if only your father can be brought to see——” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, mama! It isn't me that has to be convinced, you know; and we + can do a lot more with papa if we just let him alone about it for a day or + two. Promise me you won't say any more to him until—well, until he's + able to come downstairs to table. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams bit her lip, which had begun to tremble. “I think you can trust + me to know a FEW things, Alice,” she said. “I'm a little older than you, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a good girl!” Alice jumped up, laughing. “Don't forget it's the + same as a promise, and do just cheer him up a little. I'll say good-bye to + him before I go out.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've got lots to do. I thought I'd run out to Mildred's to see what + she's going to wear to-night, and then I want to go down and buy a yard of + chiffon and some narrow ribbon to make new bows for my slippers—you'll + have to give me some money——” + </p> + <p> + “If he'll give it to me!” her mother lamented, as they went toward the + front stairs together; but an hour later she came into Alice's room with a + bill in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “He has some money in his bureau drawer,” she said. “He finally told me + where it was.” + </p> + <p> + There were traces of emotion in her voice, and Alice, looking shrewdly at + her, saw moisture in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mama!” she cried. “You didn't do what you promised me you wouldn't, did + you—NOT before Miss Perry!” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Perry's getting him some broth,” Mrs. Adams returned, calmly. + “Besides, you're mistaken in saying I promised you anything; I said I + thought you could trust me to know what is right.” + </p> + <p> + “So you did bring it up again!” And Alice swung away from her, strode to + her father's door, flung it open, went to him, and put a light hand + soothingly over his unrelaxed forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old papa!” she said. “It's a shame how everybody wants to trouble + him. He shan't be bothered any more at all! He doesn't need to have + everybody telling him how to get away from that old hole he's worked in so + long and begin to make us all nice and rich. HE knows how!” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she kissed him a consoling good-bye, and made another gay + departure, the charming hand again fluttering like a white butterfly in + the shadow of the closing door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Adams had remained in Alice's room, but her mood seemed to have + changed, during her daughter's little more than momentary absence. + </p> + <p> + “What did he SAY?” she asked, quickly, and her tone was hopeful. + </p> + <p> + “'Say?'” Alice repeated, impatiently. “Why, nothing. I didn't let him. + Really, mama, I think the best thing for you to do would be to just keep + out of his room, because I don't believe you can go in there and not talk + to him about it, and if you do talk we'll never get him to do the right + thing. Never!” + </p> + <p> + The mother's response was a grieving silence; she turned from her daughter + and walked to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Now, for goodness' sake!” Alice cried. “Don't go making tragedy out of my + offering you a little practical advice!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not,” Mrs. Adams gulped, halting. “I'm just—just going to dust + the downstairs, Alice.” And with her face still averted, she went out into + the little hallway, closing the door behind her. A moment later she could + be heard descending the stairs, the sound of her footsteps carrying + somehow an effect of resignation. + </p> + <p> + Alice listened, sighed, and, breathing the words, “Oh, murder!” turned to + cheerier matters. She put on a little apple-green turban with a dim gold + band round it, and then, having shrouded the turban in a white veil, which + she kept pushed up above her forehead, she got herself into a tan coat of + soft cloth fashioned with rakish severity. After that, having studied + herself gravely in a long glass, she took from one of the drawers of her + dressing-table a black leather card-case cornered in silver filigree, but + found it empty. + </p> + <p> + She opened another drawer wherein were two white pasteboard boxes of + cards, the one set showing simply “Miss Adams,” the other engraved in + Gothic characters, “Miss Alys Tuttle Adams.” The latter belonged to + Alice's “Alys” period—most girls go through it; and Alice must have + felt that she had graduated, for, after frowning thoughtfully at the + exhibit this morning, she took the box with its contents, and let the + white shower fall from her fingers into the waste-basket beside her small + desk. She replenished the card-case from the “Miss Adams” box; then, + having found a pair of fresh white gloves, she tucked an ivory-topped + Malacca walking-stick under her arm and set forth. + </p> + <p> + She went down the stairs, buttoning her gloves and still wearing the frown + with which she had put “Alys” finally out of her life. She descended + slowly, and paused on the lowest step, looking about her with an + expression that needed but a slight deepening to betoken bitterness. Its + connection with her dropping “Alys” forever was slight, however. + </p> + <p> + The small frame house, about fifteen years old, was already inclining to + become a new Colonial relic. The Adamses had built it, moving into it from + the “Queen Anne” house they had rented until they took this step in + fashion. But fifteen years is a long time to stand still in the midland + country, even for a house, and this one was lightly made, though the + Adamses had not realized how flimsily until they had lived in it for some + time. “Solid, compact, and convenient” were the instructions to the + architect, and he had made it compact successfully. Alice, pausing at the + foot of the stairway, was at the same time fairly in the “living-room,” + for the only separation between the “living room” and the hall was a + demarcation suggested to willing imaginations by a pair of wooden columns + painted white. These columns, pine under the paint, were bruised and + chipped at the base; one of them showed a crack that threatened to become + a split; the “hard-wood” floor had become uneven; and in a corner the + walls apparently failed of solidity, where the wall-paper had declined to + accompany some staggerings of the plaster beneath it. + </p> + <p> + The furniture was in great part an accumulation begun with the wedding + gifts; though some of it was older, two large patent rocking-chairs and a + footstool having belonged to Mrs. Adams's mother in the days of hard brown + plush and veneer. For decoration there were pictures and vases. Mrs. Adams + had always been fond of vases, she said, and every year her husband's + Christmas present to her was a vase of one sort or another—whatever + the clerk showed him, marked at about twelve or fourteen dollars. The + pictures were some of them etchings framed in gilt: Rheims, Canterbury, + schooners grouped against a wharf; and Alice could remember how, in her + childhood, her father sometimes pointed out the watery reflections in this + last as very fine. But it was a long time since he had shown interest in + such things—“or in anything much,” as she thought. + </p> + <p> + Other pictures were two water-colours in baroque frames; one being the + Amalfi monk on a pergola wall, while the second was a yard-wide display of + iris blossoms, painted by Alice herself at fourteen, as a birthday gift to + her mother. Alice's glance paused upon it now with no great pride, but + showed more approval of an enormous photograph of the Colosseum. This she + thought of as “the only good thing in the room”; it possessed and bestowed + distinction, she felt; and she did not regret having won her struggle to + get it hung in its conspicuous place of honour over the mantelpiece. + Formerly that place had been held for years by a steel-engraving, an + accurate representation of the Suspension Bridge at Niagara Falls. It was + almost as large as its successor, the “Colosseum,” and it had been + presented to Mr. Adams by colleagues in his department at Lamb and + Company's. Adams had shown some feeling when Alice began to urge its + removal to obscurity in the “upstairs hall”; he even resisted for several + days after she had the “Colosseum” charged to him, framed in oak, and sent + to the house. She cheered him up, of course, when he gave way; and her + heart never misgave her that there might be a doubt which of the two + pictures was the more dismaying. + </p> + <p> + Over the pictures, the vases, the old brown plush rocking-chairs and the + stool, over the three gilt chairs, over the new chintz-covered easy chair + and the gray velure sofa—over everything everywhere, was the + familiar coating of smoke grime. It had worked into every fibre of the + lace curtains, dingying them to an unpleasant gray; it lay on the + window-sills and it dimmed the glass panes; it covered the walls, covered + the ceiling, and was smeared darker and thicker in all corners. Yet here + was no fault of housewifery; the curse could not be lifted, as the + ingrained smudges permanent on the once white woodwork proved. The grime + was perpetually renewed; scrubbing only ground it in. + </p> + <p> + This particular ugliness was small part of Alice's discontent, for though + the coating grew a little deeper each year she was used to it. Moreover, + she knew that she was not likely to find anything better in a thousand + miles, so long as she kept to cities, and that none of her friends, + however opulent, had any advantage of her here. Indeed, throughout all the + great soft-coal country, people who consider themselves comparatively poor + may find this consolation: cleanliness has been added to the virtues and + beatitudes that money can not buy. + </p> + <p> + Alice brightened a little as she went forward to the front door, and she + brightened more when the spring breeze met her there. Then all depression + left her as she walked down the short brick path to the sidewalk, looked + up and down the street, and saw how bravely the maple shade-trees, in + spite of the black powder they breathed, were flinging out their thousands + of young green particles overhead. + </p> + <p> + She turned north, treading the new little shadows on the pavement briskly, + and, having finished buttoning her gloves, swung down her Malacca stick + from under her arm to let it tap a more leisurely accompaniment to her + quick, short step. She had to step quickly if she was to get anywhere; for + the closeness of her skirt, in spite of its little length, permitted no + natural stride; but she was pleased to be impeded, these brevities forming + part of her show of fashion. + </p> + <p> + Other pedestrians found them not without charm, though approval may have + been lacking here and there, and at the first crossing Alice suffered what + she might have accounted an actual injury, had she allowed herself to be + so sensitive. An elderly woman in fussy black silk stood there, waiting + for a streetcar; she was all of a globular modelling, with a face + patterned like a frost-bitten peach; and that the approaching gracefulness + was uncongenial she naively made too evident. Her round, wan eyes seemed + roused to bitter life as they rose from the curved high heels of the + buckled slippers to the tight little skirt, and thence with startled + ferocity to the Malacca cane, which plainly appeared to her as a + decoration not more astounding than it was insulting. + </p> + <p> + Perceiving that the girl was bowing to her, the globular lady hurriedly + made shift to alter her injurious expression. “Good morning, Mrs. + Dowling,” Alice said, gravely. Mrs. Dowling returned the salutation with a + smile as convincingly benevolent as the ghastly smile upon a Santa Claus + face; and then, while Alice passed on, exploded toward her a single + compacted breath through tightened lips. + </p> + <p> + The sound was eloquently audible, though Mrs. Dowling remained unaware + that in this or any manner whatever she had shed a light upon her + thoughts; for it was her lifelong innocent conviction that other people + saw her only as she wished to be seen, and heard from her only what she + intended to be heard. At home it was always her husband who pulled down + the shades of their bedroom window. + </p> + <p> + Alice looked serious for a few moments after the little encounter, then + found some consolation in the behaviour of a gentleman of forty or so who + was coming toward her. Like Mrs. Dowling, he had begun to show + consciousness of Alice's approach while she was yet afar off; but his + tokens were of a kind pleasanter to her. He was like Mrs. Dowling again, + however, in his conception that Alice would not realize the significance + of what he did. He passed his hand over his neck-scarf to see that it lay + neatly to his collar, smoothed a lapel of his coat, and adjusted his hat, + seeming to be preoccupied the while with problems that kept his eyes to + the pavement; then, as he came within a few feet of her, he looked up, as + in a surprised recognition almost dramatic, smiled winningly, lifted his + hat decisively, and carried it to the full arm's length. + </p> + <p> + Alice's response was all he could have asked. The cane in her right hand + stopped short in its swing, while her left hand moved in a pretty gesture + as if an impulse carried it toward the heart; and she smiled, with her + under lip caught suddenly between her teeth. Months ago she had seen an + actress use this smile in a play, and it came perfectly to Alice now, + without conscious direction, it had been so well acquired; but the pretty + hand's little impulse toward the heart was an original bit all her own, on + the spur of the moment. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman went on, passing from her forward vision as he replaced his + hat. Of himself he was nothing to Alice, except for the gracious + circumstance that he had shown strong consciousness of a pretty girl. He + was middle-aged, substantial, a family man, securely married; and Alice + had with him one of those long acquaintances that never become emphasized + by so much as five minutes of talk; yet for this inconsequent meeting she + had enacted a little part like a fragment in a pantomime of Spanish + wooing. + </p> + <p> + It was not for him—not even to impress him, except as a messenger. + Alice was herself almost unaware of her thought, which was one of the + running thousands of her thoughts that took no deliberate form in words. + Nevertheless, she had it, and it was the impulse of all her pretty bits of + pantomime when she met other acquaintances who made their appreciation + visible, as this substantial gentleman did. In Alice's unworded thought, + he was to be thus encouraged as in some measure a champion to speak well + of her to the world; but more than this: he was to tell some magnificent + unknown bachelor how wonderful, how mysterious, she was. + </p> + <p> + She hastened on gravely, a little stirred reciprocally with the supposed + stirrings in the breast of that shadowy ducal mate, who must be somewhere + “waiting,” or perhaps already seeking her; for she more often thought of + herself as “waiting” while he sought her; and sometimes this view of + things became so definite that it shaped into a murmur on her lips. + “Waiting. Just waiting.” And she might add, “For him!” Then, being + twenty-two, she was apt to conclude the mystic interview by laughing at + herself, though not without a continued wistfulness. + </p> + <p> + She came to a group of small coloured children playing waywardly in a + puddle at the mouth of a muddy alley; and at sight of her they gave over + their pastime in order to stare. She smiled brilliantly upon them, but + they were too struck with wonder to comprehend that the manifestation was + friendly; and as Alice picked her way in a little detour to keep from the + mud, she heard one of them say, “Lady got cane! Jeez'!” + </p> + <p> + She knew that many coloured children use impieties familiarly, and she was + not startled. She was disturbed, however, by an unfavourable hint in the + speaker's tone. He was six, probably, but the sting of a criticism is not + necessarily allayed by knowledge of its ignoble source, and Alice had + already begun to feel a slight uneasiness about her cane. Mrs. Dowling's + stare had been strikingly projected at it; other women more than merely + glanced, their brows and lips contracting impulsively; and Alice was aware + that one or two of them frankly halted as soon as she had passed. + </p> + <p> + She had seen in several magazines pictures of ladies with canes, and on + that account she had bought this one, never questioning that fashion is + recognized, even in the provinces, as soon as beheld. On the contrary, + these staring women obviously failed to realize that what they were being + shown was not an eccentric outburst, but the bright harbinger of an + illustrious mode. Alice had applied a bit of artificial pigment to her + lips and cheeks before she set forth this morning; she did not need it, + having a ready colour of her own, which now mounted high with annoyance. + </p> + <p> + Then a splendidly shining closed black automobile, with windows of + polished glass, came silently down the street toward her. Within it, as in + a luxurious little apartment, three comely ladies in mourning sat and + gossiped; but when they saw Alice they clutched one another. They + instantly recovered, bowing to her solemnly as they were borne by, yet + were not gone from her sight so swiftly but the edge of her side glance + caught a flash of teeth in mouths suddenly opened, and the dark glisten of + black gloves again clutching to share mirth. + </p> + <p> + The colour that outdid the rouge on Alice's cheek extended its area and + grew warmer as she realized how all too cordial had been her nod and smile + to these humorous ladies. But in their identity lay a significance causing + her a sharper smart, for they were of the family of that Lamb, chief of + Lamb and Company, who had employed her father since before she was born. + </p> + <p> + “And know his salary! They'd be SURE to find out about that!” was her + thought, coupled with another bitter one to the effect that they had + probably made instantaneous financial estimates of what she wore though + certainly her walking-stick had most fed their hilarity. + </p> + <p> + She tucked it under her arm, not swinging it again; and her breath became + quick and irregular as emotion beset her. She had been enjoying her walk, + but within the space of the few blocks she had gone since she met the + substantial gentleman, she found that more than the walk was spoiled: + suddenly her life seemed to be spoiled, too; though she did not view the + ruin with complaisance. These Lamb women thought her and her cane + ridiculous, did they? she said to herself. That was their parvenu blood: + to think because a girl's father worked for their grandfather she had no + right to be rather striking in style, especially when the striking WAS her + style. Probably all the other girls and women would agree with them and + would laugh at her when they got together, and, what might be fatal, would + try to make all the men think her a silly pretender. Men were just like + sheep, and nothing was easier than for women to set up as shepherds and + pen them in a fold. “To keep out outsiders,” Alice thought. “And make 'em + believe I AM an outsider. What's the use of living?” + </p> + <p> + All seemed lost when a trim young man appeared, striding out of a + cross-street not far before her, and, turning at the corner, came toward + her. Visibly, he slackened his gait to lengthen the time of his approach, + and, as he was a stranger to her, no motive could be ascribed to him other + than a wish to have a longer time to look at her. + </p> + <p> + She lifted a pretty hand to a pin at her throat, bit her lip—not + with the smile, but mysteriously—and at the last instant before her + shadow touched the stranger, let her eyes gravely meet his. A moment + later, having arrived before the house which was her destination, she + halted at the entrance to a driveway leading through fine lawns to the + intentionally important mansion. It was a pleasant and impressive place to + be seen entering, but Alice did not enter at once. She paused, examining a + tiny bit of mortar which the masons had forgotten to scrape from a brick + in one of the massive gate-posts. She frowned at this tiny defacement, and + with an air of annoyance scraped it away, using the ferrule of her cane an + act of fastidious proprietorship. If any one had looked back over his + shoulder he would not have doubted that she lived there. + </p> + <p> + Alice did not turn to see whether anything of the sort happened or not, + but she may have surmised that it did. At all events, it was with an + invigorated step that she left the gateway behind her and went cheerfully + up the drive to the house of her friend Mildred. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Adams had a restless morning, and toward noon he asked Miss Perry to call + his daughter; he wished to say something to her. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I heard her leaving the house a couple of hours ago—maybe + longer,” the nurse told him. “I'll go see.” And she returned from the + brief errand, her impression confirmed by information from Mrs. Adams. + “Yes. She went up to Miss Mildred Palmer's to see what she's going to wear + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Adams looked at Miss Perry wearily, but remained passive, making no + inquiries; for he was long accustomed to what seemed to him a kind of + jargon among ladies, which became the more incomprehensible when they + tried to explain it. A man's best course, he had found, was just to let it + go as so much sound. His sorrowful eyes followed the nurse as she went + back to her rocking-chair by the window, and her placidity showed him that + there was no mystery for her in the fact that Alice walked two miles to + ask so simple a question when there was a telephone in the house. + Obviously Miss Perry also comprehended why Alice thought it important to + know what Mildred meant to wear. Adams understood why Alice should be + concerned with what she herself wore “to look neat and tidy and at her + best, why, of course she'd want to,” he thought—but he realized that + it was forever beyond him to understand why the clothing of other people + had long since become an absorbing part of her life. + </p> + <p> + Her excursion this morning was no novelty; she was continually going to + see what Mildred meant to wear, or what some other girl meant to wear; and + when Alice came home from wherever other girls or women had been gathered, + she always hurried to her mother with earnest descriptions of the clothing + she had seen. At such times, if Adams was present, he might recognize + “organdie,” or “taffeta,” or “chiffon,” as words defining certain + textiles, but the rest was too technical for him, and he was like a dismal + boy at a sermon, just waiting for it to get itself finished. Not the least + of the mystery was his wife's interest: she was almost indifferent about + her own clothes, and when she consulted Alice about them spoke hurriedly + and with an air of apology; but when Alice described other people's + clothes, Mrs. Adams listened as eagerly as the daughter talked. + </p> + <p> + “There they go!” he muttered to-day, a moment after he heard the front + door closing, a sound recognizable throughout most of the thinly built + house. Alice had just returned, and Mrs. Adams called to her from the + upper hallway, not far from Adams's door. + </p> + <p> + “What did she SAY?” + </p> + <p> + “She was sort of snippy about it,” Alice returned, ascending the stairs. + “She gets that way sometimes, and pretended she hadn't made up her mind, + but I'm pretty sure it'll be the maize Georgette with Malines flounces.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you say she wore that at the Pattersons'?” Mrs. Adams inquired, as + Alice arrived at the top of the stairs. “And didn't you tell me she wore + it again at the——” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” Alice interrupted, rather petulantly. “She's never worn + it but once, and of course she wouldn't want to wear anything to-night + that people have seen her in a lot.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Perry opened the door of Adams's room and stepped out. “Your father + wants to know if you'll come and see him a minute, Miss Adams.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old thing! Of course!” Alice exclaimed, and went quickly into the + room, Miss Perry remaining outside. “What's the matter, papa? Getting + awful sick of lying on his tired old back, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “I've had kind of a poor morning,” Adams said, as she patted his hand + comfortingly. “I been thinking——” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I tell you not to?” she cried, gaily. “Of course you'll have poor + times when you go and do just exactly what I say you mustn't. You stop + thinking this very minute!” + </p> + <p> + He smiled ruefully, closing his eyes; was silent for a moment, then asked + her to sit beside the bed. “I been thinking of something I wanted to say,” + he added. + </p> + <p> + “What like, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's nothing—much,” he said, with something deprecatory in + his tone, as if he felt vague impulses toward both humour and apology. “I + just thought maybe I ought to've said more to you some time or other about—well, + about the way things ARE, down at Lamb and Company's, for instance.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, papa!” She leaned forward in the chair she had taken, and pretended + to slap his hand crossly. “Isn't that exactly what I said you couldn't + think one single think about till you get ALL well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well——” he said, and went on slowly, not looking at her, but + at the ceiling. “I just thought maybe it wouldn't been any harm if some + time or other I told you something about the way they sort of depend on me + down there.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't they show it, then?” she asked, quickly. “That's just what mama + and I have been feeling so much; they don't appreciate you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, they do,” he said. “Yes, they do. They began h'isting my salary + the second year I went in there, and they've h'isted it a little every two + years all the time I've worked for 'em. I've been head of the sundries + department for seven years now, and I could hardly have more authority in + that department unless I was a member of the firm itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why don't they make you a member of the firm? That's what they + ought to've done! Yes, and long ago!” + </p> + <p> + Adams laughed, but sighed with more heartiness than he had laughed. “They + call me their 'oldest stand-by' down there.” He laughed again, + apologetically, as if to excuse himself for taking a little pride in this + title. “Yes, sir; they say I'm their 'oldest stand-by'; and I guess they + know they can count on my department's turning in as good a report as they + look for, at the end of every month; but they don't have to take a man + into the firm to get him to do my work, dearie.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said they depended on you, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “So they do; but of course not so's they couldn't get along without me.” + He paused, reflecting. “I don't just seem to know how to put it—I + mean how to put what I started out to say. I kind of wanted to tell you—well, + it seems funny to me, these last few years, the way your mother's taken to + feeling about it. I'd like to see a better established wholesale drug + business than Lamb and Company this side the Alleghanies—I don't say + bigger, I say better established—and it's kind of funny for a man + that's been with a business like that as long as I have to hear it called + a 'hole.' It's kind of funny when you think, yourself, you've done pretty + fairly well in a business like that, and the men at the head of it seem to + think so, too, and put your salary just about as high as anybody could + consider customary—well, what I mean, Alice, it's kind of funny to + have your mother think it's mostly just—mostly just a failure, so to + speak.” + </p> + <p> + His voice had become tremulous in spite of him; and this sign of weakness + and emotion had sufficient effect upon Alice. She bent over him suddenly, + with her arm about him and her cheek against his. “Poor papa!” she + murmured. “Poor papa!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he said. “I didn't mean anything to trouble you. I just thought——” + He hesitated. “I just wondered—I thought maybe it wouldn't be any + harm if I said something about how things ARE down there. I got to + thinking maybe you didn't understand it's a pretty good place. They're + fine people to work for; and they've always seemed to think something of + me;—the way they took Walter on, for instance, soon as I asked 'em, + last year. Don't you think that looked a good deal as if they thought + something of me, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa,” she said, not moving. + </p> + <p> + “And the work's right pleasant,” he went on. “Mighty nice boys in our + department, Alice. Well, they are in all the departments, for that matter. + We have a good deal of fun down there some days.” + </p> + <p> + She lifted her head. “More than you do at home 'some days,' I expect, + papa!” she said. + </p> + <p> + He protested feebly. “Now, I didn't mean that—I didn't want to + trouble you——” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him through winking eyelashes. “I'm sorry I called it a + 'hole,' papa.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he protested, gently. “It was your mother said that.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I did, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you did, it was only because you'd heard her.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, then kissed him. “I'm going to talk to her,” she said, + and rose decisively. + </p> + <p> + But at this, her father's troubled voice became quickly louder: “You + better let her alone. I just wanted to have a little talk with you. I + didn't mean to start any—your mother won't——” + </p> + <p> + “Now, papa!” Alice spoke cheerfully again, and smiled upon him. “I want + you to quit worrying! Everything's going to be all right and nobody's + going to bother you any more about anything. You'll see!” + </p> + <p> + She carried her smile out into the hall, but after she had closed the door + her face was all pity; and her mother, waiting for her in the opposite + room, spoke sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Alice? What did he say that's upset you?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute, mama.” Alice found a handkerchief, used it for eyes and + suffused nose, gulped, then suddenly and desolately sat upon the bed. + “Poor, poor, POOR papa!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” Mrs. Adams inquired, mildly. “What's the matter with him? Sometimes + you act as if he weren't getting well. What's he been talking about?” + </p> + <p> + “Mama—well, I think I'm pretty selfish. Oh, I do!” + </p> + <p> + “Did he say you were?” + </p> + <p> + “Papa? No, indeed! What I mean is, maybe we're both a little selfish to + try to make him go out and hunt around for something new.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams looked thoughtful. “Oh, that's what he was up to!” + </p> + <p> + “Mama, I think we ought to give it up. I didn't dream it had really hurt + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, doesn't he hurt us?” + </p> + <p> + “Never that I know of, mama.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean by SAYING things,” Mrs. Adams explained, impatiently. “There + are more ways than that of hurting people. When a man sticks to a salary + that doesn't provide for his family, isn't that hurting them?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it 'provides' for us well enough, mama. We have what we need—if + I weren't so extravagant. Oh, <i>I</i> know I am!” + </p> + <p> + But at this admission her mother cried out sharply. “'Extravagant!' You + haven't one tenth of what the other girls you go with have. And you CAN'T + have what you ought to as long as he doesn't get out of that horrible + place. It provides bare food and shelter for us, but what's that?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think we ought to try any more to change him.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't?” Mrs. Adams came and stood before her. “Listen, Alice: your + father's asleep; that's his trouble, and he's got to be waked up. He + doesn't know that things have changed. When you and Walter were little + children we did have enough—at least it seemed to be about as much + as most of the people we knew. But the town isn't what it was in those + days, and times aren't what they were then, and these fearful PRICES + aren't the old prices. Everything else but your father has changed, and + all the time he's stood still. He doesn't know it; he thinks because + they've given him a hundred dollars more every two years he's quite a + prosperous man! And he thinks that because his children cost him more than + he and I cost our parents he gives them—enough!” + </p> + <p> + “But Walter——” Alice faltered. “Walter doesn't cost him + anything at all any more.” And she concluded, in a stricken voice, “It's + all—me!” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't it be?” her mother cried. “You're young—you're just + at the time when your life should be fullest of good things and happiness. + Yet what do you get?” + </p> + <p> + Alice's lip quivered; she was not unsusceptible to such an appeal, but she + contrived the semblance of a protest. “I don't have such a bad time not a + good DEAL of the time, anyhow. I've got a good MANY of the things other + girls have——” + </p> + <p> + “You have?” Mrs. Adams was piteously satirical. “I suppose you've got a + limousine to go to that dance to-night? I suppose you've only got to call + a florist and tell him to send you some orchids? I suppose you've——” + </p> + <p> + But Alice interrupted this list. Apparently in a single instant all + emotion left her, and she became businesslike, as one in the midst of + trifles reminded of really serious matters. She got up from the bed and + went to the door of the closet where she kept her dresses. “Oh, see here,” + she said, briskly. “I've decided to wear my white organdie if you could + put in a new lining for me. I'm afraid it'll take you nearly all + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + She brought forth the dress, displayed it upon the bed, and Mrs. Adams + examined it attentively. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you could get it done, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why not,” Mrs. Adams answered, passing a thoughtful hand over + the fabric. “It oughtn't to take more than four or five hours.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a shame to have you sit at the machine that long,” Alice said, + absently, adding, “And I'm sure we ought to let papa alone. Let's just + give it up, mama.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams continued her thoughtful examination of the dress. “Did you buy + the chiffon and ribbon, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'm sure we oughtn't to talk to him about it any more, mama.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll see.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's both agree that we'll NEVER say another single word to him about + it,” said Alice. “It'll be a great deal better if we just let him make up + his mind for himself.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + With this, having more immediately practical questions before them, they + dropped the subject, to bend their entire attention upon the dress; and + when the lunch-gong sounded downstairs Alice was still sketching repairs + and alterations. She continued to sketch them, not heeding the summons. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose we'd better go down to lunch,” Mrs. Adams said, absently. + “She's at the gong again.” “In a minute, mama. Now about the sleeves——” + And she went on with her planning. Unfortunately the gong was inexpressive + of the mood of the person who beat upon it. It consisted of three little + metal bowls upon a string; they were unequal in size, and, upon being + tapped with a padded stick, gave forth vibrations almost musically + pleasant. It was Alice who had substituted this contrivance for the brass + “dinner-bell” in use throughout her childhood; and neither she nor the + others of her family realized that the substitution of sweeter sounds had + made the life of that household more difficult. In spite of dismaying + increases in wages, the Adamses still strove to keep a cook; and, as they + were unable to pay the higher rates demanded by a good one, what they + usually had was a whimsical coloured woman of nomadic impulses. In the + hands of such a person the old-fashioned “dinner-bell” was satisfying; + life could instantly be made intolerable for any one dawdling on his way + to a meal; the bell was capable of every desirable profanity and left + nothing bottled up in the breast of the ringer. But the chamois-covered + stick might whack upon Alice's little Chinese bowls for a considerable + length of time and produce no great effect of urgency upon a hearer, nor + any other effect, except fury in the cook. The ironical impossibility of + expressing indignation otherwise than by sounds of gentle harmony proved + exasperating; the cook was apt to become surcharged, so that explosive + resignations, never rare, were somewhat more frequent after the + introduction of the gong. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams took this increased frequency to be only another manifestation + of the inexplicable new difficulties that beset all housekeeping. You paid + a cook double what you had paid one a few years before; and the cook knew + half as much of cookery, and had no gratitude. The more you gave these + people, it seemed, the worse they behaved—a condition not to be + remedied by simply giving them less, because you couldn't even get the + worst unless you paid her what she demanded. Nevertheless, Mrs. Adams + remained fitfully an optimist in the matter. Brought up by her mother to + speak of a female cook as “the girl,” she had been instructed by Alice to + drop that definition in favour of one not an improvement in accuracy: “the + maid.” Almost always, during the first day or so after every cook came, + Mrs. Adams would say, at intervals, with an air of triumph: “I believe—of + course it's a little soon to be sure—but I do really believe this + new maid is the treasure we've been looking for so long!” Much in the same + way that Alice dreamed of a mysterious perfect mate for whom she “waited,” + her mother had a fairy theory that hidden somewhere in the universe there + was the treasure, the perfect “maid,” who would come and cook in the + Adamses' kitchen, not four days or four weeks, but forever. + </p> + <p> + The present incumbent was not she. Alice, profoundly interested herself, + kept her mother likewise so preoccupied with the dress that they were but + vaguely conscious of the gong's soft warnings, though these were repeated + and protracted unusually. Finally the sound of a hearty voice, independent + and enraged, reached the pair. It came from the hall below. + </p> + <p> + “I says goo'-BYE!” it called. “Da'ss all!” + </p> + <p> + Then the front door slammed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what——” Mrs. Adams began. + </p> + <p> + They went down hurriedly to find out. Miss Perry informed them. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't make her listen to reason,” she said. “She rang the gong four + or five times and got to talking to herself; and then she went up to her + room and packed her bag. I told her she had no business to go out the + front door, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams took the news philosophically. “I thought she had something + like that in her eye when I paid her this morning, and I'm not surprised. + Well, we won't let Mr. Adams know anything's the matter till I get a new + one.” + </p> + <p> + They lunched upon what the late incumbent had left chilling on the table, + and then Mrs. Adams prepared to wash the dishes; she would “have them done + in a jiffy,” she said, cheerfully. But it was Alice who washed the dishes. + </p> + <p> + “I DON'T like to have you do that, Alice,” her mother protested, following + her into the kitchen. “It roughens the hands, and when a girl has hands + like yours——” + </p> + <p> + “I know, mama.” Alice looked troubled, but shook her head. “It can't be + helped this time; you'll need every minute to get that dress done.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams went away lamenting, while Alice, no expert, began to splash + the plates and cups and saucers in the warm water. After a while, as she + worked, her eyes grew dreamy: she was making little gay-coloured pictures + of herself, unfounded prophecies of how she would look and what would + happen to her that evening. She saw herself, charming and demure, wearing + a fluffy idealization of the dress her mother now determinedly struggled + with upstairs; she saw herself framed in a garlanded archway, the entrance + to a ballroom, and saw the people on the shining floor turning + dramatically to look at her; then from all points a rush of young men + shouting for dances with her; and she constructed a superb stranger, tall, + dark, masterfully smiling, who swung her out of the clamouring group as + the music began. She saw herself dancing with him, saw the half-troubled + smile she would give him; and she accurately smiled that smile as she + rinsed the knives and forks. + </p> + <p> + These hopeful fragments of drama were not to be realized, she knew; but + she played that they were true, and went on creating them. In all of them + she wore or carried flowers—her mother's sorrow for her in this + detail but made it the more important—and she saw herself glamorous + with orchids; discarded these for an armful of long-stemmed, heavy roses; + tossed them away for a great bouquet of white camellias; and so wandered + down a lengthening hothouse gallery of floral beauty, all costly and + beyond her reach except in such a wistful day-dream. And upon her present + whole horizon, though she searched it earnestly, she could discover no + figure of a sender of flowers. + </p> + <p> + Out of her fancies the desire for flowers to wear that night emerged + definitely and became poignant; she began to feel that it might be + particularly important to have them. “This might be the night!” She was + still at the age to dream that the night of any dance may be the vital + point in destiny. No matter how commonplace or disappointing other dance + nights have been this one may bring the great meeting. The unknown + magnifico may be there. + </p> + <p> + Alice was almost unaware of her own reveries in which this being appeared—reveries + often so transitory that they developed and passed in a few seconds. And + in some of them the being was not wholly a stranger; there were moments + when he seemed to be composed of recognizable fragments of young men she + knew—a smile she had liked, from one; the figure of another, the + hair of another—and sometimes she thought he might be concealed, so + to say, within the person of an actual acquaintance, someone she had never + suspected of being the right seeker for her, someone who had never + suspected that it was she who “waited” for him. Anything might reveal them + to each other: a look, a turn of the head, a singular word—perhaps + some flowers upon her breast or in her hand. + </p> + <p> + She wiped the dishes slowly, concluding the operation by dropping a saucer + upon the floor and dreamily sweeping the fragments under the stove. She + sighed and replaced the broom near a window, letting her glance wander + over the small yard outside. The grass, repulsively besooted to the colour + of coal-smoke all winter, had lately come to life again and now sparkled + with green, in the midst of which a tiny shot of blue suddenly fixed her + absent eyes. They remained upon it for several moments, becoming less + absent. + </p> + <p> + It was a violet. + </p> + <p> + Alice ran upstairs, put on her hat, went outdoors and began to search out + the violets. She found twenty-two, a bright omen—since the number + was that of her years—but not enough violets. There were no more; + she had ransacked every foot of the yard. + </p> + <p> + She looked dubiously at the little bunch in her hand, glanced at the lawn + next door, which offered no favourable prospect; then went thoughtfully + into the house, left her twenty-two violets in a bowl of water, and came + quickly out again, her brow marked with a frown of decision. She went to a + trolley-line and took a car to the outskirts of the city where a new park + had been opened. + </p> + <p> + Here she resumed her search, but it was not an easily rewarded one, and + for an hour after her arrival she found no violets. She walked + conscientiously over the whole stretch of meadow, her eyes roving + discontentedly; there was never a blue dot in the groomed expanse; but at + last, as she came near the borders of an old grove of trees, left + untouched by the municipal landscapers, the little flowers appeared, and + she began to gather them. She picked them carefully, loosening the earth + round each tiny plant, so as to bring the roots up with it, that it might + live the longer; and she had brought a napkin, which she drenched at a + hydrant, and kept loosely wrapped about the stems of her collection. + </p> + <p> + The turf was too damp for her to kneel; she worked patiently, stooping + from the waist; and when she got home in a drizzle of rain at five o'clock + her knees were tremulous with strain, her back ached, and she was tired + all over, but she had three hundred violets. Her mother moaned when Alice + showed them to her, fragrant in a basin of water. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you POOR child! To think of your having to work so hard to get + things that other girls only need lift their little fingers for!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Alice, huskily. “I've got 'em and I AM going to have a + good time to-night!” + </p> + <p> + “You've just got to!” Mrs. Adams agreed, intensely sympathetic. “The Lord + knows you deserve to, after picking all these violets, poor thing, and He + wouldn't be mean enough to keep you from it. I may have to get dinner + before I finish the dress, but I can get it done in a few minutes + afterward, and it's going to look right pretty. Don't you worry about + THAT! And with all these lovely violets——” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder——” Alice began, paused, then went on, fragmentarily: + “I suppose—well, I wonder—do you suppose it would have been + better policy to have told Walter before——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said her mother. “It would only have given him longer to grumble.” + </p> + <p> + “But he might——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry,” Mrs. Adams reassured her. “He'll be a little cross, but he + won't be stubborn; just let me talk to him and don't you say anything at + all, no matter what HE says.” + </p> + <p> + These references to Walter concerned some necessary manoeuvres which took + place at dinner, and were conducted by the mother, Alice having accepted + her advice to sit in silence. Mrs. Adams began by laughing cheerfully. “I + wonder how much longer it took me to cook this dinner than it does Walter + to eat it?” she said. “Don't gobble, child! There's no hurry.” + </p> + <p> + In contact with his own family Walter was no squanderer of words. + </p> + <p> + “Is for me,” he said. “Got date.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you have, but there's plenty of time.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled in benevolent pity. “YOU know, do you? If you made any coffee—don't + bother if you didn't. Get some down-town.” He seemed about to rise and + depart; whereupon Alice, biting her lip, sent a panic-stricken glance at + her mother. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Adams seemed not at all disturbed; and laughed again. “Why, what + nonsense, Walter! I'll bring your coffee in a few minutes, but we're going + to have dessert first.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort?” + </p> + <p> + “Some lovely peaches.” + </p> + <p> + “Doe' want 'ny canned peaches,” said the frank Walter, moving back his + chair. “G'-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Walter! It doesn't begin till about nine o'clock at the earliest.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, mystified. “What doesn't?” + </p> + <p> + “The dance.” + </p> + <p> + “What dance?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mildred Palmer's dance, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Walter laughed briefly. “What's that to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you haven't forgotten it's TO-NIGHT, have you?” Mrs. Adams cried. + “What a boy!” + </p> + <p> + “I told you a week ago I wasn't going to that ole dance,” he returned, + frowning. “You heard me.” + </p> + <p> + “Walter!” she exclaimed. “Of COURSE you're going. I got your clothes all + out this afternoon, and brushed them for you. They'll look very nice, and——” + </p> + <p> + “They won't look nice on ME,” he interrupted. “Got date down-town, I tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + “But of course you'll——” + </p> + <p> + “See here!” Walter said, decisively. “Don't get any wrong ideas in your + head. I'm just as liable to go up to that ole dance at the Palmers' as I + am to eat a couple of barrels of broken glass.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Walter——” + </p> + <p> + Walter was beginning to be seriously annoyed. “Don't 'Walter' me! I'm no + s'ciety snake. I wouldn't jazz with that Palmer crowd if they coaxed me + with diamonds.” + </p> + <p> + “Walter——” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I tell you it's no use to 'Walter' me?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Glory!” + </p> + <p> + At this Mrs. Adams abandoned her air of amusement, looked hurt, and + glanced at the demure Miss Perry across the table. “I'm afraid Miss Perry + won't think you have very good manners, Walter.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right she won't,” he agreed, grimly. “Not if I haf to hear any + more about me goin' to——” + </p> + <p> + But his mother interrupted him with some asperity: “It seems very strange + that you always object to going anywhere among OUR friends, Walter.” + </p> + <p> + “YOUR friends!” he said, and, rising from his chair, gave utterance to an + ironical laugh strictly monosyllabic. “Your friends!” he repeated, going + to the door. “Oh, yes! Certainly! Good-NIGHT!” + </p> + <p> + And looking back over his shoulder to offer a final brief view of his + derisive face, he took himself out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Alice gasped: “Mama——” + </p> + <p> + “I'll stop him!” her mother responded, sharply; and hurried after the + truant, catching him at the front door with his hat and raincoat on. + </p> + <p> + “Walter——” + </p> + <p> + “Told you had a date down-town,” he said, gruffly, and would have opened + the door, but she caught his arm and detained him. + </p> + <p> + “Walter, please come back and finish your dinner. When I take all the + trouble to cook it for you, I think you might at least——” + </p> + <p> + “Now, now!” he said. “That isn't what you're up to. You don't want to make + me eat; you want to make me listen.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you MUST listen!” She retained her grasp upon his arm, and made it + tighter. “Walter, please!” she entreated, her voice becoming tremulous. + “PLEASE don't make me so much trouble!” + </p> + <p> + He drew back from her as far as her hold upon him permitted, and looked at + her sharply. “Look here!” he said. “I get you, all right! What's the + matter of Alice GOIN' to that party by herself?” + </p> + <p> + “She just CAN'T!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “It makes things too MEAN for her, Walter. All the other girls have + somebody to depend on after they get there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why doesn't she have somebody?” he asked, testily. “Somebody + besides ME, I mean! Why hasn't somebody asked her to go? She ought to be + THAT popular, anyhow, I sh'd think—she TRIES enough!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand how you can be so hard,” his mother wailed, huskily. + “You know why they don't run after her the way they do the other girls she + goes with, Walter. It's because we're poor, and she hasn't got any + background. + </p> + <p> + “'Background?'” Walter repeated. “'Background?' What kind of talk is + that?” + </p> + <p> + “You WILL go with her to-night, Walter?” his mother pleaded, not stopping + to enlighten him. “You don't understand how hard things are for her and + how brave she is about them, or you COULDN'T be so selfish! It'd be more + than I can bear to see her disappointed to-night! She went clear out to + Belleview Park this afternoon, Walter, and spent hours and hours picking + violets to wear. You WILL——” + </p> + <p> + Walter's heart was not iron, and the episode of the violets may have + reached it. “Oh, BLUB!” he said, and flung his soft hat violently at the + wall. + </p> + <p> + His mother beamed with delight. “THAT'S a good boy, darling! You'll never + be sorry you——” + </p> + <p> + “Cut it out,” he requested. “If I take her, will you pay for a taxi?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Walter!” And again Mrs. Adams showed distress. “Couldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I couldn't; I'm not goin' to throw away my good money like that, and + you can't tell what time o' night it'll be before she's willin' to come + home. What's the matter you payin' for one?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't any money.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father——” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head dolefully. “I got some from him this morning, and I + can't bother him for any more; it upsets him. He's ALWAYS been so terribly + close with money——” + </p> + <p> + “I guess he couldn't help that,” Walter observed. “We're liable to go to + the poorhouse the way it is. Well, what's the matter our walkin' to this + rotten party?” + </p> + <p> + “In the rain, Walter?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's only a drizzle and we can take a streetcar to within a block + of the house.” + </p> + <p> + Again his mother shook her head. “It wouldn't do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, darn the luck, all right!” he consented, explosively. “I'll get her + something to ride in. It means seventy-five cents.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Walter!” Mrs. Adams cried, much pleased. “Do you know how to get a + cab for that little? How splendid!” + </p> + <p> + “Tain't a cab,” Walter informed her crossly. “It's a tin Lizzie, but you + don't haf' to tell her what it is till I get her into it, do you?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams agreed that she didn't. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + Alice was busy with herself for two hours after dinner; but a little + before nine o'clock she stood in front of her long mirror, completed, + bright-eyed and solemn. Her hair, exquisitely arranged, gave all she asked + of it; what artificialities in colour she had used upon her face were only + bits of emphasis that made her prettiness the more distinct; and the + dress, not rumpled by her mother's careful hours of work, was a white + cloud of loveliness. Finally there were two triumphant bouquets of + violets, each with the stems wrapped in tin-foil shrouded by a bow of + purple chiffon; and one bouquet she wore at her waist and the other she + carried in her hand. + </p> + <p> + Miss Perry, called in by a rapturous mother for the free treat of a look + at this radiance, insisted that Alice was a vision. “Purely and simply a + vision!” she said, meaning that no other definition whatever would satisfy + her. “I never saw anybody look a vision if she don't look one to-night,” + the admiring nurse declared. “Her papa'll think the same I do about it. + You see if he doesn't say she's purely and simply a vision.” + </p> + <p> + Adams did not fulfil the prediction quite literally when Alice paid a + brief visit to his room to “show” him and bid him good-night; but he + chuckled feebly. “Well, well, well!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You look mighty fine—MIGHTY fine!” And he waggled a bony finger at + her two bouquets. “Why, Alice, who's your beau?” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind!” she laughed, archly brushing his nose with the violets + in her hand. “He treats me pretty well, doesn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Must like to throw his money around! These violets smell mighty sweet, + and they ought to, if they're going to a party with YOU. Have a good time, + dearie.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to!” she cried; and she repeated this gaily, but with an emphasis + expressing sharp determination as she left him. “I MEAN to!” + </p> + <p> + “What was he talking about?” her mother inquired, smoothing the rather + worn and old evening wrap she had placed on Alice's bed. “What were you + telling him you 'mean to?'” + </p> + <p> + Alice went back to her triple mirror for the last time, then stood before + the long one. “That I mean to have a good time to-night,” she said; and as + she turned from her reflection to the wrap Mrs. Adams held up for her, “It + looks as though I COULD, don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll just be a queen to-night,” her mother whispered in fond emotion. + “You mustn't doubt yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's one thing,” said Alice. “I think I do look nice enough to + get along without having to dance with that Frank Dowling! All I ask is + for it to happen just once; and if he comes near me to-night I'm going to + treat him the way the other girls do. Do you suppose Walter's got the taxi + out in front?” + </p> + <p> + “He—he's waiting down in the hall,” Mrs. Adams answered, nervously; + and she held up another garment to go over the wrap. + </p> + <p> + Alice frowned at it. “What's that, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “It's—it's your father's raincoat. I thought you'd put it on over——” + </p> + <p> + “But I won't need it in a taxicab.” + </p> + <p> + “You will to get in and out, and you needn't take it into the Palmers'. + You can leave it in the—in the—It's drizzling, and you'll need + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” Alice consented; and a few minutes later, as with Walter's + assistance she climbed into the vehicle he had provided, she better + understood her mother's solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth IS this, Walter?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; it'll keep you dry enough with the top up,” he returned, + taking his seat beside her. Then for a time, as they went rather jerkily + up the street, she was silent; but finally she repeated her question: + “What IS it, Walter?” + </p> + <p> + “What's what?” + </p> + <p> + “This—this CAR?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a ottomobile.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean—what kind is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you got eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “It's too dark.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a second-hand tin Lizzie,” said Walter. “D'you know what that means? + It means a flivver.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Walter.” + </p> + <p> + “Got 'ny 'bjections?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, dear,” she said, placatively. “Is it yours, Walter? Have you + bought it?” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” he laughed. “<i>I</i> couldn't buy a used wheelbarrow. I rent this + sometimes when I'm goin' out among 'em. Costs me seventy-five cents and + the price o' the gas.” + </p> + <p> + “That seems very moderate.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess it is! The feller owes me some money, and this is the only way + I'd ever get it off him.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he a garage-keeper?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly!” Walter uttered husky sounds of amusement. “You'll be just + as happy, I guess, if you don't know who he is,” he said. + </p> + <p> + His tone misgave her; and she said truthfully that she was content not to + know who owned the car. “I joke sometimes about how you keep things to + yourself,” she added, “but I really never do pry in your affairs, Walter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, you don't!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you're mighty nice and cooing when you got me where you want me,” he + jeered. “Well, <i>I</i> just as soon tell you where I get this car.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd just as soon you wouldn't, Walter,” she said, hurriedly. “Please + don't.” + </p> + <p> + But Walter meant to tell her. “Why, there's nothin' exactly CRIMINAL about + it,” he said. “It belongs to old J. A. Lamb himself. He keeps it for their + coon chauffeur. I rent it from him.” + </p> + <p> + “From Mr. LAMB?” + </p> + <p> + “No; from the coon chauffeur.” + </p> + <p> + “Walter!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Sure I do! I can get it any night when the coon isn't goin' to use it + himself. He's drivin' their limousine to-night—that little Henrietta + Lamb's goin' to the party, no matter if her father HAS only been dead + less'n a year!” He paused, then inquired: “Well, how d'you like it?” + </p> + <p> + She did not speak, and he began to be remorseful for having imparted so + much information, though his way of expressing regret was his own. “Well, + you WILL make the folks make me take you to parties!” he said. “I got to + do it the best way I CAN, don't I?” + </p> + <p> + Then as she made no response, “Oh, the car's CLEAN enough,” he said. “This + coon, he's as particular as any white man; you needn't worry about that.” + And as she still said nothing, he added gruffly, “I'd of had a better car + if I could afforded it. You needn't get so upset about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand—” she said in a low voice—“I don't + understand how you know such people.” + </p> + <p> + “Such people as who?” + </p> + <p> + “As—coloured chauffeurs.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, look here, now!” he protested, loudly. “Don't you know this is a + democratic country?” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite that democratic, is it, Walter?” + </p> + <p> + “The trouble with you,” he retorted, “you don't know there's anybody in + town except just this silk-shirt crowd.” He paused, seeming to await a + refutation; but as none came, he expressed himself definitely: “They make + me sick.” + </p> + <p> + They were coming near their destination, and the glow of the big, brightly + lighted house was seen before them in the wet night. Other cars, not like + theirs, were approaching this center of brilliance; long triangles of + light near the ground swept through the fine drizzle; small red + tail-lights gleamed again from the moist pavement of the street; and, + through the myriads of little glistening leaves along the curving + driveway, glimpses were caught of lively colours moving in a white glare + as the limousines released their occupants under the shelter of the + porte-cochere. + </p> + <p> + Alice clutched Walter's arm in a panic; they were just at the driveway + entrance. “Walter, we mustn't go in there.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave this awful car outside.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I——” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” she insisted, vehemently. “You've got to! Go back!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Glory!” + </p> + <p> + The little car was between the entrance posts; but Walter backed it out, + avoiding a collision with an impressive machine which swerved away from + them and passed on toward the porte-cochere, showing a man's face grinning + at the window as it went by. “Flivver runabout got the wrong number!” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “Did he SEE us?” Alice cried. + </p> + <p> + “Did who see us?” + </p> + <p> + “Harvey Malone—in that foreign coupe.” + </p> + <p> + “No; he couldn't tell who we were under this top,” Walter assured her as + he brought the little car to a standstill beside the curbstone, out in the + street. “What's it matter if he did, the big fish?” + </p> + <p> + Alice responded with a loud sigh, and sat still. + </p> + <p> + “Well, want to go on back?” Walter inquired. “You bet I'm willing!” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, what's the matter our drivin' on up to the porte-cochere? + There's room for me to park just the other side of it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, NO!” + </p> + <p> + “What you expect to do? Sit HERE all night?” + </p> + <p> + “No, leave the car here.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> don't care where we leave it,” he said. “Sit still till I lock + her, so none o' these millionaires around here'll run off with her.” He + got out with a padlock and chain; and, having put these in place, offered + Alice his hand. “Come on, if you're ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” she said, and, divesting herself of the raincoat, handed it to + Walter. “Please leave this with your things in the men's dressing-room, as + if it were an extra one of your own, Walter.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded; she jumped out; and they scurried through the drizzle. + </p> + <p> + As they reached the porte-cochere she began to laugh airily, and spoke to + the impassive man in livery who stood there. “Joke on us!” she said, + hurrying by him toward the door of the house. “Our car broke down outside + the gate.” + </p> + <p> + The man remained impassive, though he responded with a faint gleam as + Walter, looking back at him, produced for his benefit a cynical distortion + of countenance which offered little confirmation of Alice's account of + things. Then the door was swiftly opened to the brother and sister; and + they came into a marble-floored hall, where a dozen sleeked young men + lounged, smoked cigarettes and fastened their gloves, as they waited for + their ladies. Alice nodded to one or another of these, and went quickly + on, her face uplifted and smiling; but Walter detained her at the door to + which she hastened. + </p> + <p> + “Listen here,” he said. “I suppose you want me to dance the first dance + with you——” + </p> + <p> + “If you please, Walter,” she said, meekly. + </p> + <p> + “How long you goin' to hang around fixin' up in that dressin'-room?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be out before you're ready yourself,” she promised him; and kept her + word, she was so eager for her good time to begin. When he came for her, + they went down the hall to a corridor opening upon three great rooms which + had been thrown open together, with the furniture removed and the broad + floors waxed. At one end of the corridor musicians sat in a green grove, + and Walter, with some interest, turned toward these; but his sister, + pressing his arm, impelled him in the opposite direction. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter now?” he asked. “That's Jazz Louie and his half-breed + bunch—three white and four mulatto. Let's——?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she whispered. “We must speak to Mildred and Mr. and Mrs. + Palmer.” + </p> + <p> + “'Speak' to 'em? I haven't got a thing to say to THOSE berries!” + </p> + <p> + “Walter, won't you PLEASE behave?” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to consent, for the moment, at least, and suffered her to take + him down the corridor toward a floral bower where the hostess stood with + her father and mother. Other couples and groups were moving in the same + direction, carrying with them a hubbub of laughter and fragmentary + chatterings; and Alice, smiling all the time, greeted people on every side + of her eagerly—a little more eagerly than most of them responded—while + Walter nodded in a noncommittal manner to one or two, said nothing, and + yawned audibly, the last resource of a person who finds himself nervous in + a false situation. He repeated his yawn and was beginning another when a + convulsive pressure upon his arm made him understand that he must abandon + this method of reassuring himself. They were close upon the floral bower. + </p> + <p> + Mildred was giving her hand to one and another of her guests as rapidly as + she could, passing them on to her father and mother, and at the same time + resisting the efforts of three or four detached bachelors who besought her + to give over her duty in favour of the dance-music just beginning to + blare. + </p> + <p> + She was a large, fair girl, with a kindness of eye somewhat withheld by an + expression of fastidiousness; at first sight of her it was clear that she + would never in her life do anything “incorrect,” or wear anything + “incorrect.” But her correctness was of the finer sort, and had no air of + being studied or achieved; conduct would never offer her a problem to be + settled from a book of rules, for the rules were so deep within her that + she was unconscious of them. And behind this perfection there was an even + ampler perfection of what Mrs. Adams called “background.” The big, rich, + simple house was part of it, and Mildred's father and mother were part of + it. They stood beside her, large, serene people, murmuring graciously and + gently inclining their handsome heads as they gave their hands to the + guests; and even the youngest and most ebullient of these took on a hushed + mannerliness with a closer approach to the bower. + </p> + <p> + When the opportunity came for Alice and Walter to pass within this + precinct, Alice, going first, leaned forward and whispered in Mildred's + ear. “You DIDN'T wear the maize georgette! That's what I thought you were + going to. But you look simply DARLING! And those pearls——” + </p> + <p> + Others were crowding decorously forward, anxious to be done with ceremony + and get to the dancing; and Mildred did not prolong the intimacy of + Alice's enthusiastic whispering. With a faint accession of colour and a + smile tending somewhat in the direction of rigidity, she carried Alice's + hand immediately onward to Mrs. Palmer's. Alice's own colour showed a + little heightening as she accepted the suggestion thus implied; nor was + that emotional tint in any wise decreased, a moment later, by an + impression that Walter, in concluding the brief exchange of courtesies + between himself and the stately Mr. Palmer, had again reassured himself + with a yawn. + </p> + <p> + But she did not speak of it to Walter; she preferred not to confirm the + impression and to leave in her mind a possible doubt that he had done it. + He followed her out upon the waxed floor, said resignedly: “Well, come + on,” put his arm about her, and they began to dance. + </p> + <p> + Alice danced gracefully and well, but not so well as Walter. Of all the + steps and runs, of all the whimsical turns and twirlings, of all the + rhythmic swayings and dips commanded that season by such blarings as were + the barbaric product, loud and wild, of the Jazz Louies and their + half-breed bunches, the thin and sallow youth was a master. Upon his face + could be seen contempt of the easy marvels he performed as he moved in + swift precision from one smooth agility to another; and if some too-dainty + or jealous cavalier complained that to be so much a stylist in dancing was + “not quite like a gentleman,” at least Walter's style was what the music + called for. No other dancer in the room could be thought comparable to + him. Alice told him so. + </p> + <p> + “It's wonderful!” she said. “And the mystery is, where you ever learned to + DO it! You never went to dancing-school, but there isn't a man in the room + who can dance half so well. I don't see why, when you dance like this, you + always make such a fuss about coming to parties.” + </p> + <p> + He sounded his brief laugh, a jeering bark out of one side of the mouth, + and swung her miraculously through a closing space between two other + couples. “You know a lot about what goes on, don't you? You prob'ly think + there's no other place to dance in this town except these frozen-face + joints.” + </p> + <p> + “'Frozen face?'” she echoed, laughing. “Why, everybody's having a splendid + time. Look at them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they holler loud enough,” he said. “They do it to make each other + think they're havin' a good time. You don't call that Palmer family + frozen-face berries, I s'pose. No?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. They're just dignified and——” + </p> + <p> + “Yeuh!” said Walter. “They're dignified, 'specially when you tried to + whisper to Mildred to show how IN with her you were, and she moved you on + that way. SHE'S a hot friend, isn't she!” + </p> + <p> + “She didn't mean anything by it. She——” + </p> + <p> + “Ole Palmer's a hearty, slap you-on-the-back ole berry,” Walter + interrupted; adding in a casual tone, “All I'd like, I'd like to hit him.” + </p> + <p> + “Walter! By the way, you mustn't forget to ask Mildred for a dance before + the evening is over.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” He produced the lop-sided appearance of his laugh, but without + making it vocal. “You watch me do it!” + </p> + <p> + “She probably won't have one left, but you must ask her, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Why must I?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, in the first place, you're supposed to, and, in the second + place, she's my most intimate friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeuh? Is she? I've heard you pull that 'most-intimate-friend' stuff often + enough about her. What's SHE ever do to show she is?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. You really must ask her, Walter. I want you to; and I want + you to ask several other girls afterwhile; I'll tell you who.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep on wanting; it'll do you good.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you really——” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” he said. “I'm just as liable to dance with any of these fairies + as I am to buy a bucket o' rusty tacks and eat 'em. Forget it! Soon as I + get rid of you I'm goin' back to that room where I left my hat and + overcoat and smoke myself to death.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, a little ruefully, as the frenzy of Jazz Louie and his + half-breeds was suddenly abated to silence, “you mustn't—you mustn't + get rid of me TOO soon, Walter.” + </p> + <p> + They stood near one of the wide doorways, remaining where they had + stopped. Other couples, everywhere, joined one another, forming vivacious + clusters, but none of these groups adopted the brother and sister, nor did + any one appear to be hurrying in Alice's direction to ask her for the next + dance. She looked about her, still maintaining that jubilance of look and + manner she felt so necessary—for it is to the girls who are “having + a good time” that partners are attracted—and, in order to lend + greater colour to her impersonation of a lively belle, she began to + chatter loudly, bringing into play an accompaniment of frolicsome gesture. + She brushed Walter's nose saucily with the bunch of violets in her hand, + tapped him on the shoulder, shook her pretty forefinger in his face, + flourished her arms, kept her shoulders moving, and laughed continuously + as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “You NAUGHTY old Walter!” she cried. “AREN'T you ashamed to be such a + wonderful dancer and then only dance with your own little sister! You + could dance on the stage if you wanted to. Why, you could made your + FORTUNE that way! Why don't you? Wouldn't it be just lovely to have all + the rows and rows of people clapping their hands and shouting, 'Hurrah! + Hurrah, for Walter Adams! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” + </p> + <p> + He stood looking at her in stolid pity. + </p> + <p> + “Cut it out,” he said. “You better be givin' some of these berries the eye + so they'll ask you to dance.” + </p> + <p> + She was not to be so easily checked, and laughed loudly, flourishing her + violets in his face again. “You WOULD like it; you know you would; you + needn't pretend! Just think! A whole big audience shouting, 'Hurrah! + HURRAH! HUR——'” + </p> + <p> + “The place'll be pulled if you get any noisier,” he interrupted, not + ungently. “Besides, I'm no muley cow.” + </p> + <p> + “A 'COW?'” she laughed. “What on earth——” + </p> + <p> + “I can't eat dead violets,” he explained. “So don't keep tryin' to make me + do it.” + </p> + <p> + This had the effect he desired, and subdued her; she abandoned her + unsisterly coquetries, and looked beamingly about her, but her smile was + more mechanical than it had been at first. + </p> + <p> + At home she had seemed beautiful; but here, where the other girls + competed, things were not as they had been there, with only her mother and + Miss Perry to give contrast. These crowds of other girls had all done + their best, also, to look beautiful, though not one of them had worked so + hard for such a consummation as Alice had. They did not need to; they did + not need to get their mothers to make old dresses over; they did not need + to hunt violets in the rain. + </p> + <p> + At home her dress had seemed beautiful; but that was different, too, where + there were dozens of brilliant fabrics, fashioned in new ways—some + of these new ways startling, which only made the wearers centers of + interest and shocked no one. And Alice remembered that she had heard a + girl say, not long before, “Oh, ORGANDIE! Nobody wears organdie for + evening gowns except in midsummer.” Alice had thought little of this; but + as she looked about her and saw no organdie except her own, she found + greater difficulty in keeping her smile as arch and spontaneous as she + wished it. In fact, it was beginning to make her face ache a little. + </p> + <p> + Mildred came in from the corridor, heavily attended. She carried a great + bouquet of violets laced with lilies of-the-valley; and the violets were + lusty, big purple things, their stems wrapped in cloth of gold, with + silken cords dependent, ending in long tassels. She and her convoy passed + near the two young Adamses; and it appeared that one of the convoy + besought his hostess to permit “cutting in”; they were “doing it other + places” of late, he urged; but he was denied and told to console himself + by holding the bouquet, at intervals, until his third of the sixteenth + dance should come. Alice looked dubiously at her own bouquet. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she felt that the violets betrayed her; that any one who looked + at them could see how rustic, how innocent of any florist's craft they + were “I can't eat dead violets,” Walter said. The little wild flowers, + dying indeed in the warm air, were drooping in a forlorn mass; and it + seemed to her that whoever noticed them would guess that she had picked + them herself. She decided to get rid of them. + </p> + <p> + Walter was becoming restive. “Look here!” he said. “Can't you flag one o' + these long-tailed birds to take you on for the next dance? You came to + have a good time; why don't you get busy and have it? I want to get out + and smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “You MUSTN'T leave me, Walter,” she whispered, hastily. “Somebody'll come + for me before long, but until they do——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, couldn't you sit somewhere?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! There isn't any one I could sit with.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why not? Look at those ole dames in the corners. What's the matter + your tyin' up with some o' them for a while?” + </p> + <p> + “PLEASE, Walter; no!” + </p> + <p> + In fact, that indomitable smile of hers was the more difficult to maintain + because of these very elders to whom Walter referred. They were mothers of + girls among the dancers, and they were there to fend and contrive for + their offspring; to keep them in countenance through any trial; to lend + them diplomacy in the carrying out of all enterprises; to be “background” + for them; and in these essentially biological functionings to imitate + their own matings and renew the excitement of their nuptial periods. Older + men, husbands of these ladies and fathers of eligible girls, were also to + be seen, most of them with Mr. Palmer in a billiard-room across the + corridor. Mr. and Mrs. Adams had not been invited. “Of course papa and + mama just barely know Mildred Palmer,” Alice thought, “and most of the + other girls' fathers and mothers are old friends of Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, + but I do think she might have ASKED papa and mama, anyway—she + needn't have been afraid just to ask them; she knew they couldn't come.” + And her smiling lip twitched a little threateningly, as she concluded the + silent monologue. “I suppose she thinks I ought to be glad enough she + asked Walter!” + </p> + <p> + Walter was, in fact, rather noticeable. He was not Mildred's only guest to + wear a short coat and to appear without gloves; but he was singular (at + least in his present surroundings) on account of a kind of coiffuring he + favoured, his hair having been shaped after what seemed a Mongol + inspiration. Only upon the top of the head was actual hair perceived, the + rest appearing to be nudity. And even more than by any difference in mode + he was set apart by his look and manner, in which there seemed to be a + brooding, secretive and jeering superiority and this was most vividly + expressed when he felt called upon for his loud, short, lop-sided laugh. + Whenever he uttered it Alice laughed, too, as loudly as she could, to + cover it. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said. “How long we goin' to stand here? My feet are sproutin' + roots.” + </p> + <p> + Alice took his arm, and they began to walk aimlessly through the rooms, + though she tried to look as if they had a definite destination, keeping + her eyes eager and her lips parted;—people had called jovially to + them from the distance, she meant to imply, and they were going to join + these merry friends. She was still upon this ghostly errand when a furious + outbreak of drums and saxophones sounded a prelude for the second dance. + </p> + <p> + Walter danced with her again, but he gave her a warning. “I don't want to + leave you high and dry,” he told her, “but I can't stand it. I got to get + somewhere I don't haf' to hurt my eyes with these berries; I'll go blind + if I got to look at any more of 'em. I'm goin' out to smoke as soon as the + music begins the next time, and you better get fixed for it.” + </p> + <p> + Alice tried to get fixed for it. As they danced she nodded sunnily to + every man whose eye she caught, smiled her smile with the under lip caught + between her teeth; but it was not until the end of the intermission after + the dance that she saw help coming. + </p> + <p> + Across the room sat the globular lady she had encountered that morning, + and beside the globular lady sat a round-headed, round-bodied girl; her + daughter, at first glance. The family contour was also as evident a + characteristic of the short young man who stood in front of Mrs. Dowling, + engaged with her in a discussion which was not without evidences of an + earnestness almost impassioned. Like Walter, he was declining to dance a + third time with sister; he wished to go elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Alice from a sidelong eye watched the controversy: she saw the globular + young man glance toward her, over his shoulder; whereupon Mrs. Dowling, + following this glance, gave Alice a look of open fury, became much more + vehement in the argument, and even struck her knee with a round, fat fist + for emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “I'm on my way,” said Walter. “There's the music startin' up again, and I + told you——” + </p> + <p> + She nodded gratefully. “It's all right—but come back before long, + Walter.” + </p> + <p> + The globular young man, red with annoyance, had torn himself from his + family and was hastening across the room to her. “C'n I have this dance?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you nice Frank Dowling!” Alice cried. “How lovely!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + They danced. Mr. Dowling should have found other forms of exercise and + pastime. + </p> + <p> + Nature has not designed everyone for dancing, though sometimes those she + has denied are the last to discover her niggardliness. But the round young + man was at least vigorous enough—too much so, when his knees + collided with Alice's—and he was too sturdy to be thrown off his + feet, himself, or to allow his partner to fall when he tripped her. He + held her up valiantly, and continued to beat a path through the crowd of + other dancers by main force. + </p> + <p> + He paid no attention to anything suggested by the efforts of the + musicians, and appeared to be unaware that there should have been some + connection between what they were doing and what he was doing; but he may + have listened to other music of his own, for his expression was of high + content; he seemed to feel no doubt whatever that he was dancing. Alice + kept as far away from him as under the circumstances she could; and when + they stopped she glanced down, and found the execution of unseen + manoeuvres, within the protection of her skirt, helpful to one of her + insteps and to the toes of both of her slippers. + </p> + <p> + Her cheery partner was paddling his rosy brows with a fine handkerchief. + “That was great!” he said. “Let's go out and sit in the corridor; they've + got some comfortable chairs out there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—let's not,” she returned. “I believe I'd rather stay in here + and look at the crowd.” + </p> + <p> + “No; that isn't it,” he said, chiding her with a waggish forefinger. “You + think if you go out there you'll miss a chance of someone else asking you + for the next dance, and so you'll have to give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “How absurd!” Then, after a look about her that revealed nothing + encouraging, she added graciously, “You can have the next if you want it.” + </p> + <p> + “Great!” he exclaimed, mechanically. “Now let's get out of here—out + of THIS room, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? What's the matter with——” + </p> + <p> + “My mother,” Mr. Dowling explained. “But don't look at her. She keeps + motioning me to come and see after Ella, and I'm simply NOT going to do + it, you see!” + </p> + <p> + Alice laughed. “I don't believe it's so much that,” she said, and + consented to walk with him to a point in the next room from which Mrs. + Dowling's continuous signalling could not be seen. “Your mother hates me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; I wouldn't say that. No, she don't,” he protested, innocently. + “She don't know you more than just to speak to, you see. So how could + she?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she does. I can tell.” + </p> + <p> + A frown appeared upon his rounded brow. “No; I'll tell you the way she + feels. It's like this: Ella isn't TOO popular, you know—it's hard to + see why, because she's a right nice girl, in her way—and mother + thinks I ought to look after her, you see. She thinks I ought to dance a + whole lot with her myself, and stir up other fellows to dance with her—it's + simply impossible to make mother understand you CAN'T do that, you see. + And then about me, you see, if she had her way I wouldn't get to dance + with anybody at all except girls like Mildred Palmer and Henrietta Lamb. + Mother wants to run my whole programme for me, you understand, but the + trouble of it is—about girls like that, you see well, I couldn't do + what she wants, even if I wanted to myself, because you take those girls, + and by the time I get Ella off my hands for a minute, why, their dances + are always every last one taken, and where do I come in?” + </p> + <p> + Alice nodded, her amiability undamaged. “I see. So that's why you dance + with me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I like to,” he protested. “I rather dance with you than I do with + those girls.” And he added with a retrospective determination which showed + that he had been through quite an experience with Mrs. Dowling in this + matter. “I TOLD mother I would, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Did it take all your courage, Frank?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her shrewdly. “Now you're trying to tease me,” he said. “I + don't care; I WOULD rather dance with you! In the first place, you're a + perfectly beautiful dancer, you see, and in the second, a man feels a lot + more comfortable with you than he does with them. Of course I know almost + all the other fellows get along with those girls all right; but I don't + waste any time on 'em I don't have to. <i>I</i> like people that are + always cordial to everybody, you see—the way you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she said, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I MEAN it,” he insisted. “There goes the band again. Shall we?” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we sit it out?” she suggested. “I believe I'd like to go out in + the corridor, after all—it's pretty warm in here.” + </p> + <p> + Assenting cheerfully, Dowling conducted her to a pair of easy-chairs + within a secluding grove of box-trees, and when they came to this retreat + they found Mildred Palmer just departing, under escort of a well-favoured + gentleman about thirty. As these two walked slowly away, in the direction + of the dancing-floor, they left it not to be doubted that they were on + excellent terms with each other; Mildred was evidently willing to make + their progress even slower, for she halted momentarily, once or twice; and + her upward glances to her tall companion's face were of a gentle, almost + blushing deference. Never before had Alice seen anything like this in her + friend's manner. + </p> + <p> + “How queer!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “What's queer?” Dowling inquired as they sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that man?” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you met him?” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw him before. Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's this Arthur Russell.” + </p> + <p> + “What Arthur Russell? I never heard of him.” Mr. Dowling was puzzled. + “Why, THAT'S funny! Only the last time I saw you, you were telling me how + awfully well you knew Mildred Palmer.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly I do,” Alice informed him. “She's my most intimate + friend.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what makes it seem so funny you haven't heard anything about this + Russell, because everybody says even if she isn't engaged to him right + now, she most likely will be before very long. I must say it looks a good + deal that way to me, myself.” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” Alice exclaimed. “She's never even mentioned him to me.” + </p> + <p> + The young man glanced at her dubiously and passed a finger over the tiny + prong that dashingly composed the whole substance of his moustache. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, Mildred IS pretty reserved,” he remarked. “This Russell is + some kind of cousin of the Palmer family, I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “He is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—second or third or something, the girls say. You see, my sister + Ella hasn't got much to do at home, and don't read anything, or sew, or + play solitaire, you see; and she hears about pretty much everything that + goes on, you see. Well, Ella says a lot of the girls have been talking + about Mildred and this Arthur Russell for quite a while back, you see. + They were all wondering what he was going to look like, you see; because + he only got here yesterday; and that proves she must have been talking to + some of 'em, or else how——” + </p> + <p> + Alice laughed airily, but the pretty sound ended abruptly with an audible + intake of breath. “Of course, while Mildred IS my most intimate friend,” + she said, “I don't mean she tells me everything—and naturally she + has other friends besides. What else did your sister say she told them + about this Mr. Russell?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it seems he's VERY well off; at least Henrietta Lamb told Ella he + was. Ella says——” + </p> + <p> + Alice interrupted again, with an increased irritability. “Oh, never mind + what Ella says! Let's find something better to talk about than Mr. + Russell!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'M willing,” Mr. Dowling assented, ruefully. “What you want to + talk about?” + </p> + <p> + But this liberal offer found her unresponsive; she sat leaning back, + silent, her arms along the arms of her chair, and her eyes, moist and + bright, fixed upon a wide doorway where the dancers fluctuated. She was + disquieted by more than Mildred's reserve, though reserve so marked had + certainly the significance of a warning that Alice's definition, “my most + intimate friend,” lacked sanction. Indirect notice to this effect could + not well have been more emphatic, but the sting of it was left for a later + moment. Something else preoccupied Alice: she had just been surprised by + an odd experience. At first sight of this Mr. Arthur Russell, she had said + to herself instantly, in words as definite as if she spoke them aloud, + though they seemed more like words spoken to her by some unknown person + within her: “There! That's exactly the kind of looking man I'd like to + marry!” + </p> + <p> + In the eyes of the restless and the longing, Providence often appears to + be worse than inscrutable: an unreliable Omnipotence given to haphazard + whimsies in dealing with its own creatures, choosing at random some among + them to be rent with tragic deprivations and others to be petted with + blessing upon blessing. + </p> + <p> + In Alice's eyes, Mildred had been blessed enough; something ought to be + left over, by this time, for another girl. The final touch to the heaping + perfection of Christmas-in-everything for Mildred was that this Mr. Arthur + Russell, good-looking, kind-looking, graceful, the perfect fiance, should + be also “VERY well off.” Of course! These rich always married one another. + And while the Mildreds danced with their Arthur Russells the best an + outsider could do for herself was to sit with Frank Dowling—the one + last course left her that was better than dancing with him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what DO you want to talk about?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she said. “Suppose we just sit, Frank.” But a moment later she + remembered something, and, with a sudden animation, began to prattle. She + pointed to the musicians down the corridor. “Oh, look at them! Look at the + leader! Aren't they FUNNY? Someone told me they're called 'Jazz Louie and + his half-breed bunch.' Isn't that just crazy? Don't you love it? Do watch + them, Frank.” + </p> + <p> + She continued to chatter, and, while thus keeping his glance away from + herself, she detached the forlorn bouquet of dead violets from her dress + and laid it gently beside the one she had carried. + </p> + <p> + The latter already reposed in the obscurity selected for it at the base of + one of the box-trees. + </p> + <p> + Then she was abruptly silent. + </p> + <p> + “You certainly are a funny girl,” Dowling remarked. “You say you don't + want to talk about anything at all, and all of a sudden you break out and + talk a blue streak; and just about the time I begin to get interested in + what you're saying you shut off! What's the matter with girls, anyhow, + when they do things like that?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; we're just queer, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “I say so! Well, what'll we do NOW? Talk, or just sit?” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we just sit some more.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything to oblige,” he assented. “I'm willing to sit as long as you + like.” + </p> + <p> + But even as he made his amiability clear in this matter, the peace was + threatened—his mother came down the corridor like a rolling, ominous + cloud. She was looking about her on all sides, in a fidget of annoyance, + searching for him, and to his dismay she saw him. She immediately made a + horrible face at his companion, beckoned to him imperiously with a dumpy + arm, and shook her head reprovingly. The unfortunate young man tried to + repulse her with an icy stare, but this effort having obtained little to + encourage his feeble hope of driving her away, he shifted his chair so + that his back was toward her discomfiting pantomime. He should have known + better, the instant result was Mrs. Dowling in motion at an impetuous + waddle. + </p> + <p> + She entered the box-tree seclusion with the lower rotundities of her face + hastily modelled into the resemblance of an over-benevolent smile a + contortion which neglected to spread its intended geniality upward to the + exasperated eyes and anxious forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I think your mother wants to speak to you, Frank,” Alice said, upon this + advent. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dowling nodded to her. “Good evening, Miss Adams,” she said. “I just + thought as you and Frank weren't dancing you wouldn't mind my disturbing + you——” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Alice murmured. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dowling seemed of a different mind. “Well, what DO you want?” he + inquired, whereupon his mother struck him roguishly with her fan. + </p> + <p> + “Bad fellow!” She turned to Alice. “I'm sure you won't mind excusing him + to let him do something for his old mother, Miss Adams.” + </p> + <p> + “What DO you want?” the son repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Two very nice things,” Mrs. Dowling informed him. “Everybody is so + anxious for Henrietta Lamb to have a pleasant evening, because it's the + very first time she's been anywhere since her father's death, and of + course her dear grandfather's an old friend of ours, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” her son interrupted. “Miss Adams isn't interested in all + this, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “But Henrietta came to speak to Ella and me, and I told her you were so + anxious to dance with her——” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he cried. “Look here! I'd rather do my own——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that's just it,” Mrs. Dowling explained. “I just thought it was such + a good opportunity; and Henrietta said she had most of her dances taken, + but she'd give you one if you asked her before they were all gone. So I + thought you'd better see her as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + Dowling's face had become rosy. “I refuse to do anything of the kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Bad fellow!” said his mother, gaily. “I thought this would be the best + time for you to see Henrietta, because it won't be long till all her + dances are gone, and you've promised on your WORD to dance the next with + Ella, and you mightn't have a chance to do it then. I'm sure Miss Adams + won't mind if you——” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Alice said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, <i>I</i> mind!” he said. “I wish you COULD understand that when I + want to dance with any girl I don't need my mother to ask her for me. I + really AM more than six years old!” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with too much vehemence, and Mrs. Dowling at once saw how to have + her way. As with husbands and wives, so with many fathers and daughters, + and so with some sons and mothers: the man will himself be cross in public + and think nothing of it, nor will he greatly mind a little crossness on + the part of the woman; but let her show agitation before any spectator, he + is instantly reduced to a coward's slavery. Women understand that ancient + weakness, of course; for it is one of their most important means of + defense, but can be used ignobly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dowling permitted a tremulousness to become audible in her voice. “It + isn't very—very pleasant—to be talked to like that by your own + son—before strangers!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my! Look here!” the stricken Dowling protested. “<i>I</i> didn't say + anything, mother. I was just joking about how you never get over thinking + I'm a little boy. I only——” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dowling continued: “I just thought I was doing you a little favour. I + didn't think it would make you so angry.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, for goodness' sake! Miss Adams'll think——” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” Mrs. Dowling interrupted, piteously, “I suppose it doesn't + matter what <i>I</i> think!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, gracious!” + </p> + <p> + Alice interfered; she perceived that the ruthless Mrs. Dowling meant to + have her way. “I think you'd better go, Frank. Really.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” his mother cried. “Miss Adams says so, herself! What more do you + want?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, gracious!” he lamented again, and, with a sick look over his shoulder + at Alice, permitted his mother to take his arm and propel him away. Mrs. + Dowling's spirits had strikingly recovered even before the pair passed + from the corridor: she moved almost bouncingly beside her embittered son, + and her eyes and all the convolutions of her abundant face were blithe. + </p> + <p> + Alice went in search of Walter, but without much hope of finding him. What + he did with himself at frozen-face dances was one of his most successful + mysteries, and her present excursion gave her no clue leading to its + solution. When the musicians again lowered their instruments for an + interval she had returned, alone, to her former seat within the partial + shelter of the box-trees. + </p> + <p> + She had now to practice an art that affords but a limited variety of + methods, even to the expert: the art of seeming to have an escort or + partner when there is none. The practitioner must imply, merely by + expression and attitude, that the supposed companion has left her for only + a few moments, that she herself has sent him upon an errand; and, if + possible, the minds of observers must be directed toward a conclusion that + this errand of her devising is an amusing one; at all events, she is alone + temporarily and of choice, not deserted. She awaits a devoted man who may + return at any instant. + </p> + <p> + Other people desired to sit in Alice's nook, but discovered her in + occupancy. She had moved the vacant chair closer to her own, and she sat + with her arm extended so that her hand, holding her lace kerchief, rested + upon the back of this second chair, claiming it. Such a preemption, like + that of a traveller's bag in the rack, was unquestionable; and, for + additional evidence, sitting with her knees crossed, she kept one foot + continuously moving a little, in cadence with the other, which tapped the + floor. Moreover, she added a fine detail: her half-smile, with the under + lip caught, seemed to struggle against repression, as if she found the + service engaging her absent companion even more amusing than she would let + him see when he returned: there was jovial intrigue of some sort afoot, + evidently. Her eyes, beaming with secret fun, were averted from intruders, + but sometimes, when couples approached, seeking possession of the nook, + her thoughts about the absentee appeared to threaten her with outright + laughter; and though one or two girls looked at her skeptically, as they + turned away, their escorts felt no such doubts, and merely wondered what + importantly funny affair Alice Adams was engaged in. She had learned to do + it perfectly. + </p> + <p> + She had learned it during the last two years; she was twenty when for the + first time she had the shock of finding herself without an applicant for + one of her dances. When she was sixteen “all the nice boys in town,” as + her mother said, crowded the Adamses' small veranda and steps, or sat near + by, cross-legged on the lawn, on summer evenings; and at eighteen she had + replaced the boys with “the older men.” By this time most of “the other + girls,” her contemporaries, were away at school or college, and when they + came home to stay, they “came out”—that feeble revival of an ancient + custom offering the maiden to the ceremonial inspection of the tribe. + Alice neither went away nor “came out,” and, in contrast with those who + did, she may have seemed to lack freshness of lustre—jewels are + richest when revealed all new in a white velvet box. And Alice may have + been too eager to secure new retainers, too kind in her efforts to keep + the old ones. She had been a belle too soon. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + The device of the absentee partner has the defect that it cannot be + employed for longer than ten or fifteen minutes at a time, and it may not + be repeated more than twice in one evening: a single repetition, indeed, + is weak, and may prove a betrayal. Alice knew that her present performance + could be effective during only this interval between dances; and though + her eyes were guarded, she anxiously counted over the partnerless young + men who lounged together in the doorways within her view. Every one of + them ought to have asked her for dances, she thought, and although she + might have been put to it to give a reason why any of them “ought,” her + heart was hot with resentment against them. + </p> + <p> + For a girl who has been a belle, it is harder to live through these bad + times than it is for one who has never known anything better. Like a + figure of painted and brightly varnished wood, Ella Dowling sat against + the wall through dance after dance with glassy imperturbability; it was + easier to be wooden, Alice thought, if you had your mother with you, as + Ella had. You were left with at least the shred of a pretense that you + came to sit with your mother as a spectator, and not to offer yourself to + be danced with by men who looked you over and rejected you—not for + the first time. “Not for the first time”: there lay a sting! Why had you + thought this time might be different from the other times? Why had you + broken your back picking those hundreds of violets? + </p> + <p> + Hating the fatuous young men in the doorways more bitterly for every + instant that she had to maintain her tableau, the smiling Alice knew + fierce impulses to spring to her feet and shout at them, “You IDIOTS!” + Hands in pockets, they lounged against the pilasters, or faced one + another, laughing vaguely, each one of them seeming to Alice no more than + so much mean beef in clothes. She wanted to tell them they were no better + than that; and it seemed a cruel thing of heaven to let them go on + believing themselves young lords. They were doing nothing, killing time. + Wasn't she at her lowest value at least a means of killing time? Evidently + the mean beeves thought not. And when one of them finally lounged across + the corridor and spoke to her, he was the very one to whom she preferred + her loneliness. + </p> + <p> + “Waiting for somebody, Lady Alicia?” he asked, negligently; and his easy + burlesque of her name was like the familiarity of the rest of him. He was + one of those full-bodied, grossly handsome men who are powerful and + active, but never submit themselves to the rigour of becoming athletes, + though they shoot and fish from expensive camps. Gloss is the most shining + outward mark of the type. Nowadays these men no longer use brilliantine on + their moustaches, but they have gloss bought from manicure-girls, from + masseurs, and from automobile-makers; and their eyes, usually large, are + glossy. None of this is allowed to interfere with business; these are + “good business men,” and often make large fortunes. They are men of + imagination about two things—women and money, and, combining their + imaginings about both, usually make a wise first marriage. Later, however, + they are apt to imagine too much about some little woman without whom life + seems duller than need be. They run away, leaving the first wife well + enough dowered. They are never intentionally unkind to women, and in the + end they usually make the mistake of thinking they have had their money's + worth of life. Here was Mr. Harvey Malone, a young specimen in an earlier + stage of development, trying to marry Henrietta Lamb, and now sauntering + over to speak to Alice, as a time-killer before his next dance with + Henrietta. + </p> + <p> + Alice made no response to his question, and he dropped lazily into the + vacant chair, from which she sharply withdrew her hand. “I might as well + use his chair till he comes, don't you think? You don't MIND, do you, old + girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” Alice said. “It doesn't matter one way or the other. Please + don't call me that.” + </p> + <p> + “So that's how you feel?” Mr. Malone laughed indulgently, without much + interest. “I've been meaning to come to see you for a long time honestly I + have—because I wanted to have a good talk with you about old times. + I know you think it was funny, after the way I used to come to your house + two or three times a week, and sometimes oftener—well, I don't blame + you for being hurt, the way I stopped without explaining or anything. The + truth is there wasn't any reason: I just happened to have a lot of + important things to do and couldn't find the time. But I AM going to call + on you some evening—honestly I am. I don't wonder you think——” + </p> + <p> + “You're mistaken,” Alice said. “I've never thought anything about it at + all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” he said, and looked at her languidly. “What's the use of + being cross with this old man? He always means well.” And, extending his + arm, he would have given her a friendly pat upon the shoulder but she + evaded it. “Well, well!” he said. “Seems to me you're getting awful + tetchy! Don't you like your old friends any more?” + </p> + <p> + “Not all of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's the new one?” he asked, teasingly. “Come on and tell us, Alice. Who + is it you were holding this chair for?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, all I've got to do is to sit here till he comes back; then I'll see + who it is.” + </p> + <p> + “He may not come back before you have to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Guess you got me THAT time,” Malone admitted, laughing as he rose. + “They're tuning up, and I've got this dance. I AM coming around to see you + some evening.” He moved away, calling back over his shoulder, “Honestly, I + am!” + </p> + <p> + Alice did not look at him. + </p> + <p> + She had held her tableau as long as she could; it was time for her to + abandon the box-trees; and she stepped forth frowning, as if a little + annoyed with the absentee for being such a time upon her errand; whereupon + the two chairs were instantly seized by a coquetting pair who intended to + “sit out” the dance. She walked quickly down the broad corridor, turned + into the broader hall, and hurriedly entered the dressing-room where she + had left her wraps. + </p> + <p> + She stayed here as long as she could, pretending to arrange her hair at a + mirror, then fidgeting with one of her slipper-buckles; but the + intelligent elderly woman in charge of the room made an indefinite sojourn + impracticable. “Perhaps I could help you with that buckle, Miss,” she + suggested, approaching. “Has it come loose?” Alice wrenched desperately; + then it was loose. The competent woman, producing needle and thread, + deftly made the buckle fast; and there was nothing for Alice to do but to + express her gratitude and go. + </p> + <p> + She went to the door of the cloak-room opposite, where a coloured man + stood watchfully in the doorway. “I wonder if you know which of the + gentlemen is my brother, Mr. Walter Adams,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm; I know him.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you tell me where he is?” + </p> + <p> + “No'm; I couldn't say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you see him, would you please tell him that his sister, Miss + Adams, is looking for him and very anxious to speak to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. Sho'ly, sho'ly!” + </p> + <p> + As she went away he stared after her and seemed to swell with some + bursting emotion. In fact, it was too much for him, and he suddenly + retired within the room, releasing strangulated laughter. + </p> + <p> + Walter remonstrated. Behind an excellent screen of coats and hats, in a + remote part of the room, he was kneeling on the floor, engaged in a game + of chance with a second coloured attendant; and the laughter became so + vehement that it not only interfered with the pastime in hand, but + threatened to attract frozen-face attention. + </p> + <p> + “I cain' he'p it, man,” the laughter explained. “I cain' he'p it! You + sut'n'y the beatin'es' white boy 'n 'is city!” + </p> + <p> + The dancers were swinging into an “encore” as Alice halted for an + irresolute moment in a doorway. Across the room, a cluster of matrons sat + chatting absently, their eyes on their dancing daughters; and Alice, + finding a refugee's courage, dodged through the scurrying couples, seated + herself in a chair on the outskirts of this colony of elders, and began to + talk eagerly to the matron nearest her. The matron seemed unaccustomed to + so much vivacity, and responded but dryly, whereupon Alice was more + vivacious than ever; for she meant now to present the picture of a jolly + girl too much interested in these wise older women to bother about every + foolish young man who asked her for a dance. + </p> + <p> + Her matron was constrained to go so far as to supply a tolerant nod, now + and then, in complement to the girl's animation, and Alice was grateful + for the nods. In this fashion she supplemented the exhausted resources of + the dressing-room and the box-tree nook; and lived through two more + dances, when again Mr. Frank Dowling presented himself as a partner. + </p> + <p> + She needed no pretense to seek the dressing-room for repairs after that + number; this time they were necessary and genuine. Dowling waited for her, + and when she came out he explained for the fourth or fifth time how the + accident had happened. “It was entirely those other people's fault,” he + said. “They got me in a kind of a corner, because neither of those fellows + knows the least thing about guiding; they just jam ahead and expect + everybody to get out of their way. It was Charlotte Thom's diamond + crescent pin that got caught on your dress in the back and made such a——” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” Alice said in a tired voice. “The maid fixed it so that she + says it isn't very noticeable.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it isn't,” he returned. “You could hardly tell there'd been + anything the matter. Where do you want to go? Mother's been interfering in + my affairs some more and I've got the next taken.” + </p> + <p> + “I was sitting with Mrs. George Dresser. You might take me back there.” + </p> + <p> + He left her with the matron, and Alice returned to her picture-making, so + that once more, while two numbers passed, whoever cared to look was + offered the sketch of a jolly, clever girl preoccupied with her elders. + Then she found her friend Mildred standing before her, presenting Mr. + Arthur Russell, who asked her to dance with him. + </p> + <p> + Alice looked uncertain, as though not sure what her engagements were; but + her perplexity cleared; she nodded, and swung rhythmically away with the + tall applicant. She was not grateful to her hostess for this alms. What a + young hostess does with a fiance, Alice thought, is to make him dance with + the unpopular girls. She supposed that Mr. Arthur Russell had already + danced with Ella Dowling. + </p> + <p> + The loan of a lover, under these circumstances, may be painful to the + lessee, and Alice, smiling never more brightly, found nothing to say to + Mr. Russell, though she thought he might have found something to say to + her. “I wonder what Mildred told him,” she thought. “Probably she said, + 'Dearest, there's one more girl you've got to help me out with. You + wouldn't like her much, but she dances well enough and she's having a + rotten time. Nobody ever goes near her any more.'” + </p> + <p> + When the music stopped, Russell added his applause to the hand-clapping + that encouraged the uproarious instruments to continue, and as they + renewed the tumult, he said heartily, “That's splendid!” + </p> + <p> + Alice gave him a glance, necessarily at short range, and found his eyes + kindly and pleased. Here was a friendly soul, it appeared, who probably + “liked everybody.” No doubt he had applauded for an “encore” when he + danced with Ella Dowling, gave Ella the same genial look, and said, + “That's splendid!” + </p> + <p> + When the “encore” was over, Alice spoke to him for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “Mildred will be looking for you,” she said. “I think you'd better take me + back to where you found me.” + </p> + <p> + He looked surprised. “Oh, if you——” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure Mildred will be needing you,” Alice said, and as she took his + arm and they walked toward Mrs. Dresser, she thought it might be just + possible to make a further use of the loan. “Oh, I wonder if you——” + she began. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” he said, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know my brother, Walter Adams,” she said. “But he's somewhere I + think possibly he's in a smoking-room or some place where girls aren't + expected, and if you wouldn't think it too much trouble to inquire——” + </p> + <p> + “I'll find him,” Russell said, promptly. “Thank you so much for that + dance. I'll bring your brother in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + It was to be a long moment, Alice decided, presently. Mrs. Dresser had + grown restive; and her nods and vague responses to her young dependent's + gaieties were as meager as they could well be. Evidently the matron had no + intention of appearing to her world in the light of a chaperone for Alice + Adams; and she finally made this clear. With a word or two of excuse, + breaking into something Alice was saying, she rose and went to sit next to + Mildred's mother, who had become the nucleus of the cluster. So Alice was + left very much against the wall, with short stretches of vacant chairs on + each side of her. She had come to the end of her picture-making, and could + only pretend that there was something amusing the matter with the arm of + her chair. + </p> + <p> + She supposed that Mildred's Mr. Russell had forgotten Walter by this time. + “I'm not even an intimate enough friend of Mildred's for him to have + thought he ought to bother to tell me he couldn't find him,” she thought. + And then she saw Russell coming across the room toward her, with Walter + beside him. She jumped up gaily. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you!” she cried. “I know this naughty boy must have been + terribly hard to find. Mildred'll NEVER forgive me! I've put you to so + much——” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” he said, amiably, and went away, leaving the brother and + sister together. + </p> + <p> + “Walter, let's dance just once more,” Alice said, touching his arm + placatively. “I thought—well, perhaps we might go home then.” + </p> + <p> + But Walter's expression was that of a person upon whom an outrage has just + been perpetrated. “No,” he said. “We've stayed THIS long, I'm goin' to + wait and see what they got to eat. And you look here!” He turned upon her + angrily. “Don't you ever do that again!” + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Send somebody after me that pokes his nose into every corner of the house + till he finds me! 'Are you Mr. Walter Adams?' he says. I guess he must + asked everybody in the place if they were Mr. Walter Adams! Well, I'll bet + a few iron men you wouldn't send anybody to hunt for me again if you knew + where he found me!” + </p> + <p> + “Where was it?” + </p> + <p> + Walter decided that her fit punishment was to know. “I was shootin' dice + with those coons in the cloak-room.” + </p> + <p> + “And he saw you?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless he was blind!” said Walter. “Come on, I'll dance this one more + dance with you. Supper comes after that, and THEN we'll go home.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams heard Alice's key turning in the front door and hurried down + the stairs to meet her. + </p> + <p> + “Did you get wet coming in, darling?” she asked. “Did you have a good + time?” + </p> + <p> + “Just lovely!” Alice said, cheerily, and after she had arranged the latch + for Walter, who had gone to return the little car, she followed her mother + upstairs and hummed a dance-tune on the way. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad you had a nice time,” Mrs. Adams said, as they reached + the door of her daughter's room together. “You DESERVED to, and it's + lovely to think——” + </p> + <p> + But at this, without warning, Alice threw herself into her mother's arms, + sobbing so loudly that in his room, close by, her father, half drowsing + through the night, started to full wakefulness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + On a morning, a week after this collapse of festal hopes, Mrs. Adams and + her daughter were concluding a three-days' disturbance, the “Spring + house-cleaning”—postponed until now by Adams's long illness—and + Alice, on her knees before a chest of drawers, in her mother's room, + paused thoughtfully after dusting a packet of letters wrapped in worn + muslin. She called to her mother, who was scrubbing the floor of the + hallway just beyond the open door, + </p> + <p> + “These old letters you had in the bottom drawer, weren't they some papa + wrote you before you were married?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams laughed and said, “Yes. Just put 'em back where they were—or + else up in the attic—anywhere you want to.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind if I read one, mama?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams laughed again. “Oh, I guess you can if you want to. I expect + they're pretty funny!” + </p> + <p> + Alice laughed in response, and chose the topmost letter of the packet. “My + dear, beautiful girl,” it began; and she stared at these singular words. + They gave her a shock like that caused by overhearing some bewildering + impropriety; and, having read them over to herself several times, she went + on to experience other shocks. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR, BEAUTIFUL GIRL: + </p> + <p> + This time yesterday I had a mighty bad case of blues because I had not had + a word from you in two whole long days and when I do not hear from you + every day things look mighty down in the mouth to me. Now it is all so + different because your letter has arrived and besides I have got a piece + of news I believe you will think as fine as I do. Darling, you will be + surprised, so get ready to hear about a big effect on our future. It is + this way. I had sort of a suspicion the head of the firm kind of took a + fancy to me from the first when I went in there, and liked the way I + attended to my work and so when he took me on this business trip with him + I felt pretty sure of it and now it turns out I was about right. In return + I guess I have got about the best boss in this world and I believe you + will think so too. Yes, sweetheart, after the talk I have just had with + him if J. A. Lamb asked me to cut my hand off for him I guess I would come + pretty near doing it because what he says means the end of our waiting to + be together. From New Years on he is going to put me in entire charge of + the sundries dept. and what do you think is going to be my salary? Eleven + hundred cool dollars a year ($1,100.00). That's all! Just only a cool + eleven hundred per annum! Well, I guess that will show your mother whether + I can take care of you or not. And oh how I would like to see your dear, + beautiful, loving face when you get this news. + </p> + <p> + I would like to go out on the public streets and just dance and shout and + it is all I can do to help doing it, especially when I know we will be + talking it all over together this time next week, and oh my darling, now + that your folks have no excuse for putting it off any longer we might be + in our own little home before Xmas. + </p> + <p> + Would you be glad? + </p> + <p> + Well, darling, this settles everything and makes our future just about as + smooth for us as anybody could ask. I can hardly realize after all this + waiting life's troubles are over for you and me and we have nothing to do + but to enjoy the happiness granted us by this wonderful, beautiful thing + we call life. I know I am not any poet and the one I tried to write about + you the day of the picnic was fearful but the way I THINK about you is a + poem. + </p> + <p> + Write me what you think of the news. I know but write me anyhow. + </p> + <p> + I'll get it before we start home and I can be reading it over all the time + on the tram. + </p> + <p> + Your always loving + </p> + <p> + VIRGIL. + </p> + <p> + The sound of her mother's diligent scrubbing in the hall came back slowly + to Alice's hearing, as she restored the letter to the packet, wrapped the + packet in its muslin covering, and returned it to the drawer. She had + remained upon her knees while she read the letter; now she sank backward, + sitting upon the floor with her hands behind her, an unconscious relaxing + for better ease to think. Upon her face there had fallen a look of wonder. + </p> + <p> + For the first time she was vaguely perceiving that life is everlasting + movement. Youth really believes what is running water to be a permanent + crystallization and sees time fixed to a point: some people have dark + hair, some people have blond hair, some people have gray hair. Until this + moment, Alice had no conviction that there was a universe before she came + into it. She had always thought of it as the background of herself: the + moon was something to make her prettier on a summer night. + </p> + <p> + But this old letter, through which she saw still flickering an ancient + starlight of young love, astounded her. Faintly before her it revealed the + whole lives of her father and mother, who had been young, after all—they + REALLY had—and their youth was now so utterly passed from them that + the picture of it, in the letter, was like a burlesque of them. And so + she, herself, must pass to such changes, too, and all that now seemed + vital to her would be nothing. + </p> + <p> + When her work was finished, that afternoon, she went into her father's + room. His recovery had progressed well enough to permit the departure of + Miss Perry; and Adams, wearing one of Mrs. Adams's wrappers over his + night-gown, sat in a high-backed chair by a closed window. The weather was + warm, but the closed window and the flannel wrapper had not sufficed him: + round his shoulders he had an old crocheted scarf of Alice's; his legs + were wrapped in a heavy comfort; and, with these swathings about him, and + his eyes closed, his thin and grizzled head making but a slight + indentation in the pillow supporting it, he looked old and little and + queer. + </p> + <p> + Alice would have gone out softly, but without opening his eyes, he spoke + to her: “Don't go, dearie. Come sit with the old man a little while.” + </p> + <p> + She brought a chair near his. “I thought you were napping.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I don't hardly ever do that. I just drift a little sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean you drift, papa?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her vaguely. “Oh, I don't know. Kind of pictures. They get a + little mixed up—old times with times still ahead, like planning what + to do, you know. That's as near a nap as I get—when the pictures mix + up some. I suppose it's sort of drowsing.” + </p> + <p> + She took one of his hands and stroked it. “What do you mean when you say + you have pictures like 'planning what to do'?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I mean planning what to do when I get out and able to go to work again.” + </p> + <p> + “But that doesn't need any planning,” Alice said, quickly. “You're going + back to your old place at Lamb's, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Adams closed his eyes again, sighing heavily, but made no other response. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of COURSE you are!” she cried. “What are you talking about?” + </p> + <p> + His head turned slowly toward her, revealing the eyes, open in a haggard + stare. “I heard you the other night when you came from the party,” he + said. “I know what was the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, you don't,” she assured him. “You don't know anything about it, + because there wasn't anything the matter at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you suppose I heard you crying? What'd you cry for if there wasn't + anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Just nerves, papa. It wasn't anything else in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” he said. “Your mother told me.” + </p> + <p> + “She promised me not to!” + </p> + <p> + At that Adams laughed mournfully. “It wouldn't be very likely I'd hear you + so upset and not ask about it, even if she didn't come and tell me on her + own hook. You needn't try to fool me; I tell you I know what was the + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “The only matter was I had a silly fit,” Alice protested. “It did me good, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “How's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I've decided to do something about it, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “That isn't the way your mother looks at it,” Adams said, ruefully. “She + thinks it's our place to do something about it. Well, I don't know—I + don't know; everything seems so changed these days. You've always been a + good daughter, Alice, and you ought to have as much as any of these girls + you go with; she's convinced me she's right about THAT. The trouble is——” + He faltered, apologetically, then went on, “I mean the question is—how + to get it for you.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” she cried. “I had no business to make such a fuss just because a lot + of idiots didn't break their necks to get dances with me and because I got + mortified about Walter—Walter WAS pretty terrible——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, me, my!” Adams lamented. “I guess that's something we just have to + leave work out itself. What you going to do with a boy nineteen or twenty + years old that makes his own living? Can't whip him. Can't keep him locked + up in the house. Just got to hope he'll learn better, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he didn't want to go to the Palmers',” Alice explained, + tolerantly—“and as mama and I made him take me, and he thought that + was pretty selfish in me, why, he felt he had a right to amuse himself any + way he could. Of course it was awful that this—that this Mr. Russell + should——” In spite of her, the recollection choked her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was awful,” Adams agreed. “Just awful. Oh, me, my!” + </p> + <p> + But Alice recovered herself at once, and showed him a cheerful face. + “Well, just a few years from now I probably won't even remember it! I + believe hardly anything amounts to as much as we think it does at the + time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—sometimes it don't.” + </p> + <p> + “What I've been thinking, papa: it seems to me I ought to DO something.” + </p> + <p> + “What like?” + </p> + <p> + She looked dreamy, but was obviously serious as she told him: “Well, I + mean I ought to be something besides just a kind of nobody. I ought to——” + She paused. + </p> + <p> + “What, dearie?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—there's one thing I'd like to do. I'm sure I COULD do it, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to go on the stage: I know I could act.” At this, her father + abruptly gave utterance to a feeble cackling of laughter; and when Alice, + surprised and a little offended, pressed him for his reason, he tried to + evade, saying, “Nothing, dearie. I just thought of something.” But she + persisted until he had to explain. + </p> + <p> + “It made me think of your mother's sister, your Aunt Flora, that died when + you were little,” he said. “She was always telling how she was going on + the stage, and talking about how she was certain she'd make a great + actress, and all so on; and one day your mother broke out and said she + ought 'a' gone on the stage, herself, because she always knew she had the + talent for it—and, well, they got into kind of a spat about which + one'd make the best actress. I had to go out in the hall to laugh!” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you were wrong,” Alice said, gravely. “If they both felt it, why + wouldn't that look as if there was talent in the family? I've ALWAYS + thought——” + </p> + <p> + “No, dearie,” he said, with a final chuckle. “Your mother and Flora + weren't different from a good many others. I expect ninety per cent. of + all the women I ever knew were just sure they'd be mighty fine actresses + if they ever got the chance. Well, I guess it's a good thing; they enjoy + thinking about it and it don't do anybody any harm.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was piqued. For several days she had thought almost continuously of + a career to be won by her own genius. Not that she planned details, or + concerned herself with first steps; her picturings overleaped all that. + Principally, she saw her name great on all the bill-boards of that unkind + city, and herself, unchanged in age but glamorous with fame and Paris + clothes, returning in a private car. No doubt the pleasantest development + of her vision was a dialogue with Mildred; and this became so real that, + as she projected it, Alice assumed the proper expressions for both parties + to it, formed words with her lips, and even spoke some of them aloud. “No, + I haven't forgotten you, Mrs. Russell. I remember you quite pleasantly, in + fact. You were a Miss Palmer, I recall, in those funny old days. Very kind + of you, I'm shaw. I appreciate your eagerness to do something for me in + your own little home. As you say, a reception WOULD renew my + acquaintanceship with many old friends—but I'm shaw you won't mind + my mentioning that I don't find much inspiration in these provincials. I + really must ask you not to press me. An artist's time is not her own, + though of course I could hardly expect you to understand——” + </p> + <p> + Thus Alice illuminated the dull time; but she retired from the interview + with her father still manfully displaying an outward cheerfulness, while + depression grew heavier within, as if she had eaten soggy cake. Her father + knew nothing whatever of the stage, and she was aware of his ignorance, + yet for some reason his innocently skeptical amusement reduced her bright + project almost to nothing. Something like this always happened, it seemed; + she was continually making these illuminations, all gay with gildings and + colourings; and then as soon as anybody else so much as glanced at them—even + her father, who loved her—the pretty designs were stricken with a + desolating pallor. “Is this LIFE?” Alice wondered, not doubting that the + question was original and all her own. “Is it life to spend your time + imagining things that aren't so, and never will be? Beautiful things + happen to other people; why should I be the only one they never CAN happen + to?” + </p> + <p> + The mood lasted overnight; and was still upon her the next afternoon when + an errand for her father took her down-town. Adams had decided to begin + smoking again, and Alice felt rather degraded, as well as embarrassed, + when she went into the large shop her father had named, and asked for the + cheap tobacco he used in his pipe. She fell back upon an air of amused + indulgence, hoping thus to suggest that her purchase was made for some + faithful old retainer, now infirm; and although the calmness of the clerk + who served her called for no such elaboration of her sketch, she + ornamented it with a little laugh and with the remark, as she dropped the + package into her coat-pocket, “I'm sure it'll please him; they tell me + it's the kind he likes.” + </p> + <p> + Still playing Lady Bountiful, smiling to herself in anticipation of the + joy she was bringing to the simple old negro or Irish follower of the + family, she left the shop; but as she came out upon the crowded pavement + her smile vanished quickly. + </p> + <p> + Next to the door of the tobacco-shop, there was the open entrance to a + stairway, and, above this rather bleak and dark aperture, a sign-board + displayed in begrimed gilt letters the information that Frincke's Business + College occupied the upper floors of the building. Furthermore, Frincke + here publicly offered “personal instruction and training in practical + mathematics, bookkeeping, and all branches of the business life, including + stenography, typewriting, etc.” + </p> + <p> + Alice halted for a moment, frowning at this signboard as though it were + something surprising and distasteful which she had never seen before. Yet + it was conspicuous in a busy quarter; she almost always passed it when she + came down-town, and never without noticing it. Nor was this the first time + she had paused to lift toward it that same glance of vague misgiving. + </p> + <p> + The building was not what the changeful city defined as a modern one, and + the dusty wooden stairway, as seen from the pavement, disappeared upward + into a smoky darkness. So would the footsteps of a girl ascending there + lead to a hideous obscurity, Alice thought; an obscurity as dreary and as + permanent as death. And like dry leaves falling about her she saw her + wintry imaginings in the May air: pretty girls turning into withered + creatures as they worked at typing-machines; old maids “taking dictation” + from men with double chins; Alice saw old maids of a dozen different kinds + “taking dictation.” Her mind's eye was crowded with them, as it always was + when she passed that stairway entrance; and though they were all different + from one another, all of them looked a little like herself. + </p> + <p> + She hated the place, and yet she seldom hurried by it or averted her eyes. + It had an unpleasant fascination for her, and a mysterious reproach, which + she did not seek to fathom. She walked on thoughtfully to-day; and when, + at the next corner, she turned into the street that led toward home, she + was given a surprise. Arthur Russell came rapidly from behind her, lifting + his hat as she saw him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you walking north, Miss Adams?” he asked. “Do you mind if I walk with + you?” + </p> + <p> + She was not delighted, but seemed so. “How charming!” she cried, giving + him a little flourish of the shapely hands; and then, because she wondered + if he had seen her coming out of the tobacco-shop, she laughed and added, + “I've just been on the most ridiculous errand!” + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” + </p> + <p> + “To order some cigars for my father. He's been quite ill, poor man, and + he's so particular—but what in the world do <i>I</i> know about + cigars?” + </p> + <p> + Russell laughed. “Well, what DO you know about 'em? Did you select by the + price?” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy, no!” she exclaimed, and added, with an afterthought, “Of course he + wrote down the name of the kind he wanted and I gave it to the shopman. I + could never have pronounced it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + In her pocket as she spoke her hand rested upon the little sack of + tobacco, which responded accusingly to the touch of her restless fingers; + and she found time to wonder why she was building up this fiction for Mr. + Arthur Russell. His discovery of Walter's device for whiling away the dull + evening had shamed and distressed her; but she would have suffered no less + if almost any other had been the discoverer. In this gentleman, after + hearing that he was Mildred's Mr. Arthur Russell, Alice felt not the + slightest “personal interest”; and there was yet to develop in her life + such a thing as an interest not personal. At twenty-two this state of + affairs is not unique. + </p> + <p> + So far as Alice was concerned Russell might have worn a placard, + “Engaged.” She looked upon him as diners entering a restaurant look upon + tables marked “Reserved”: the glance, slightly discontented, passes on at + once. Or so the eye of a prospector wanders querulously over staked and + established claims on the mountainside, and seeks the virgin land beyond; + unless, indeed, the prospector be dishonest. But Alice was no claim-jumper—so + long as the notice of ownership was plainly posted. + </p> + <p> + Though she was indifferent now, habit ruled her: and, at the very time she + wondered why she created fictitious cigars for her father, she was also + regretting that she had not boldly carried her Malacca stick down-town + with her. Her vivacity increased automatically. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the clerk thought you wanted the cigars for yourself,” Russell + suggested. “He may have taken you for a Spanish countess.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure he did!” Alice agreed, gaily; and she hummed a bar or two of + “LaPaloma,” snapping her fingers as castanets, and swaying her body a + little, to suggest the accepted stencil of a “Spanish Dancer.” “Would you + have taken me for one, Mr. Russell?” she asked, as she concluded the + impersonation. + </p> + <p> + “I? Why, yes,” he said. “I'D take you for anything you wanted me to.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what a speech!” she cried, and, laughing, gave him a quick glance in + which there glimmered some real surprise. He was looking at her + quizzically, but with the liveliest appreciation. Her surprise increased; + and she was glad that he had joined her. + </p> + <p> + To be seen walking with such a companion added to her pleasure. She would + have described him as “altogether quite stunning-looking”; and she liked + his tall, dark thinness, his gray clothes, his soft hat, and his clean + brown shoes; she liked his easy swing of the stick he carried. + </p> + <p> + “Shouldn't I have said it?” he asked. “Would you rather not be taken for a + Spanish countess?” + </p> + <p> + “That isn't it,” she explained. “You said——” + </p> + <p> + “I said I'd take you for whatever you wanted me to. Isn't that all right?” + </p> + <p> + “It would all depend, wouldn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it would depend on what you wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she laughed. “It might depend on a lot of things.” + </p> + <p> + “Such as?” + </p> + <p> + “Well——” She hesitated, having the mischievous impulse to say, + “Such as Mildred!” But she decided to omit this reference, and became + serious, remembering Russell's service to her at Mildred's house. + “Speaking of what I want to be taken for,” she said;—“I've been + wondering ever since the other night what you did take me for! You must + have taken me for the sister of a professional gambler, I'm afraid!” + </p> + <p> + Russell's look of kindness was the truth about him, she was to discover; + and he reassured her now by the promptness of his friendly chuckle. “Then + your young brother told you where I found him, did he? I kept my face + straight at the time, but I laughed afterward—to myself. It struck + me as original, to say the least: his amusing himself with those darkies.” + </p> + <p> + “Walter IS original,” Alice said; and, having adopted this new view of her + brother's eccentricities, she impulsively went on to make it more + plausible. “He's a very odd boy, and I was afraid you'd misunderstand. He + tells wonderful 'darky stories,' and he'll do anything to draw coloured + people out and make them talk; and that's what he was doing at Mildred's + when you found him for me—he says he wins their confidence by + playing dice with them. In the family we think he'll probably write about + them some day. He's rather literary.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you?” Russell asked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh——” She paused, lifting both hands in a charming gesture + of helplessness. “Oh, I'm just—me!” + </p> + <p> + His glance followed the lightly waved hands with keen approval, then rose + to the lively and colourful face, with its hazel eyes, its small and + pretty nose, and the lip-caught smile which seemed the climax of her + decorative transition. Never had he seen a creature so plastic or so + wistful. + </p> + <p> + Here was a contrast to his cousin Mildred, who was not wistful, and + controlled any impulses toward plasticity, if she had them. “By George!” + he said. “But you ARE different!” + </p> + <p> + With that, there leaped in her such an impulse of roguish gallantry as she + could never resist. She turned her head, and, laughing and bright-eyed, + looked him full in the face. + </p> + <p> + “From whom?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “From—everybody!” he said. “Are you a mind-reader?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “How did you know I was thinking you were different from my cousin, + Mildred Palmer?” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think I DID know it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” he said. “You knew what I was thinking and I knew you knew.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said with cool humour. “How intimate that seems to make us all + at once!” + </p> + <p> + Russell left no doubt that he was delighted with these gaieties of hers. + “By George!” he exclaimed again. “I thought you were this sort of girl the + first moment I saw you!” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of girl? Didn't Mildred tell you what sort of girl I am when + she asked you to dance with me?” + </p> + <p> + “She didn't ask me to dance with you—I'd been looking at you. You + were talking to some old ladies, and I asked Mildred who you were.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so Mildred DIDN'T——” Alice checked herself. “Who did she + tell you I was?” + </p> + <p> + “She just said you were a Miss Adams, so I——” + </p> + <p> + “'A' Miss Adams?” Alice interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Then I said I'd like to meet you.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. You thought you'd save me from the old ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I thought I'd save myself from some of the girls Mildred was getting + me to dance with. There was a Miss Dowling——” + </p> + <p> + “Poor man!” Alice said, gently, and her impulsive thought was that Mildred + had taken few chances, and that as a matter of self-defense her + carefulness might have been well founded. This Mr. Arthur Russell was a + much more responsive person than one had supposed. + </p> + <p> + “So, Mr. Russell, you don't know anything about me except what you thought + when you first saw me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know I was right when I thought it.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't told me what you thought.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were like what you ARE like.” + </p> + <p> + “Not very definite, is it? I'm afraid you shed more light a minute or so + ago, when you said how different from Mildred you thought I was. That WAS + definite, unfortunately!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say it,” Russell explained. “I thought it, and you read my mind. + That's the sort of girl I thought you were—one that could read a + man's mind. Why do you say 'unfortunately' you're not like Mildred?” + </p> + <p> + Alice's smooth gesture seemed to sketch Mildred. “Because she's perfect—why, + she's PERFECTLY perfect! She never makes a mistake, and everybody looks up + to her—oh, yes, we all fairly adore her! She's like some big, noble, + cold statue—'way above the rest of us—and she hardly ever does + anything mean or treacherous. Of all the girls I know I believe she's + played the fewest really petty tricks. She's——” + </p> + <p> + Russell interrupted; he looked perplexed. “You say she's perfectly + perfect, but that she does play SOME——” + </p> + <p> + Alice laughed, as if at his sweet innocence. “Men are so funny!” she + informed him. “Of course girls ALL do mean things sometimes. My own + career's just one long brazen smirch of 'em! What I mean is, Mildred's + perfectly perfect compared to the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he said, and seemed to need a moment or two of thoughtfulness. + Then he inquired, “What sort of treacherous things do YOU do?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh, the very worst kind! Most people bore me particularly the men in + this town—and I show it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I shouldn't call that treacherous, exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, THEY do,” Alice laughed. “It's made me a terribly unpopular + character! I do a lot of things they hate. For instance, at a dance I'd a + lot rather find some clever old woman and talk to her than dance with + nine-tenths of these nonentities. I usually do it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “But you danced as if you liked it. You danced better than any other girl + I——” + </p> + <p> + “This flattery of yours doesn't quite turn my head, Mr. Russell,” Alice + interrupted. “Particularly since Mildred only gave you Ella Dowling to + compare with me!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” he insisted. “There were others—and of course Mildred, + herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course, yes. I forgot that. Well——” She paused, then + added, “I certainly OUGHT to dance well.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it so much a duty?” + </p> + <p> + “When I think of the dancing-teachers and the expense to papa! All sorts + of fancy instructors—I suppose that's what daughters have fathers + for, though, isn't it? To throw money away on them?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't——” Russell began, and his look was one of alarm. + “You haven't taken up——” + </p> + <p> + She understood his apprehension and responded merrily, “Oh, murder, no! + You mean you're afraid I break out sometimes in a piece of cheesecloth and + run around a fountain thirty times, and then, for an encore, show how much + like snakes I can make my arms look.” + </p> + <p> + “I SAID you were a mind-reader!” he exclaimed. “That's exactly what I was + pretending to be afraid you might do.” + </p> + <p> + “'Pretending?' That's nicer of you. No; it's not my mania.” + </p> + <p> + “What is?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing in particular that I know of just now. Of course I've had the + usual one: the one that every girl goes through.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, Mr. Russell, you can't expect me to believe you're really a + man of the world if you don't know that every girl has a time in her life + when she's positive she's divinely talented for the stage! It's the only + universal rule about women that hasn't got an exception. I don't mean we + all want to go on the stage, but we all think we'd be wonderful if we did. + Even Mildred. Oh, she wouldn't confess it to you: you'd have to know her a + great deal better than any man can ever know her to find out.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he said. “Girls are always telling us we can't know them. I + wonder if you——” + </p> + <p> + She took up his thought before he expressed it, and again he was + fascinated by her quickness, which indeed seemed to him almost telepathic. + “Oh, but DON'T we know one another, though!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Such things we have to keep secret—things that go on right before + YOUR eyes!” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't some of you tell us?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “We can't tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Too much honour?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Not even too much honour among thieves, Mr. Russell. We don't tell + you about our tricks against one another because we know it wouldn't make + any impression on you. The tricks aren't played against you, and you have + a soft side for cats with lovely manners!” + </p> + <p> + “What about your tricks against us?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, those!” Alice laughed. “We think they're rather cute!” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo!” he cried, and hammered the ferrule of his stick upon the + pavement. + </p> + <p> + “What's the applause for?” + </p> + <p> + “For you. What you said was like running up the black flag to the + masthead.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. It was just a modest little sign in a pretty flower-bed: + 'Gentlemen, beware!'” + </p> + <p> + “I see I must,” he said, gallantly. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks! But I mean, beware of the whole bloomin' garden!” Then, picking + up a thread that had almost disappeared: “You needn't think you'll ever + find out whether I'm right about Mildred's not being an exception by + asking her,” she said. “She won't tell you: she's not the sort that ever + makes a confession.” + </p> + <p> + But Russell had not followed her shift to the former topic. “'Mildred's + not being an exception?'” he said, vaguely. “I don't——” + </p> + <p> + “An exception about thinking she could be a wonderful thing on the stage + if she only cared to. If you asked her I'm pretty sure she'd say, 'What + nonsense!' Mildred's the dearest, finest thing anywhere, but you won't + find out many things about her by asking her.” + </p> + <p> + Russell's expression became more serious, as it did whenever his cousin + was made their topic. “You think not?” he said. “You think she's——” + </p> + <p> + “No. But it's not because she isn't sincere exactly. It's only because she + has such a lot to live up to. She has to live up to being a girl on the + grand style to herself, I mean, of course.” And without pausing Alice + rippled on, “You ought to have seen ME when I had the stage-fever! I used + to play 'Juliet' all alone in my room.' She lifted her arms in graceful + entreaty, pleading musically, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, + That monthly changes in her circled orb, + Lest thy love prove——” + </pre> + <p> + She broke off abruptly with a little flourish, snapping thumb and finger + of each outstretched hand, then laughed and said, “Papa used to make such + fun of me! Thank heaven, I was only fifteen; I was all over it by the next + year.” + </p> + <p> + “No wonder you had the fever,” Russell observed. “You do it beautifully. + Why didn't you finish the line?” + </p> + <p> + “Which one? 'Lest thy love prove likewise variable'? Juliet was saying it + to a MAN, you know. She seems to have been ready to worry about his + constancy pretty early in their affair!” + </p> + <p> + Her companion was again thoughtful. “Yes,” he said, seeming to be rather + irksomely impressed with Alice's suggestion. “Yes; it does appear so.” + </p> + <p> + Alice glanced at his serious face, and yielded to an audacious temptation. + “You mustn't take it so hard,” she said, flippantly. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't about you: it's only about Romeo and Juliet.” + </p> + <p> + “See here!” he exclaimed. “You aren't at your mind-reading again, are you? + There are times when it won't do, you know!” + </p> + <p> + She leaned toward him a little, as if companionably: they were walking + slowly, and this geniality of hers brought her shoulder in light contact + with his for a moment. “Do you dislike my mind-reading?” she asked, and, + across their two just touching shoulders, gave him her sudden look of + smiling wistfulness. “Do you hate it?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “No, I don't,” he said, gravely. “It's quite pleasant. + But I think it says, 'Gentlemen, beware!'” + </p> + <p> + She instantly moved away from him, with the lawless and frank laugh of one + who is delighted to be caught in a piece of hypocrisy. “How lovely!” she + cried. Then she pointed ahead. “Our walk is nearly over. We're coming to + the foolish little house where I live. It's a queer little place, but my + father's so attached to it the family have about given up hope of getting + him to build a real house farther out. He doesn't mind our being + extravagant about anything else, but he won't let us alter one single + thing about his precious little old house. Well!” She halted, and gave him + her hand. “Adieu!” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't,” he began; hesitated, then asked: “I couldn't come in with + you for a little while?” + </p> + <p> + “Not now,” she said, quickly. “You can come——” She paused. + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost any time.” She turned and walked slowly up the path, but he + waited. “You can come in the evening if you like,” she called back to him + over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Soon?” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as you like!” She waved her hand; then ran indoors and watched + him from a window as he went up the street. He walked rapidly, a fine, + easy figure, swinging his stick in a way that suggested exhilaration. + Alice, staring after him through the irregular apertures of a lace + curtain, showed no similar buoyancy. Upon the instant she closed the door + all sparkle left her: she had become at once the simple and sometimes + troubled girl her family knew. + </p> + <p> + “What is going on out there?” her mother asked, approaching from the + dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing,” Alice said, indifferently, as she turned away. “That Mr. + Russell met me downtown and walked up with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Russell? Oh, the one that's engaged to Mildred?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—I don't know for certain. He didn't seem so much like an + engaged man to me.” And she added, in the tone of thoughtful + preoccupation: “Anyhow—not so terribly!” + </p> + <p> + Then she ran upstairs, gave her father his tobacco, filled his pipe for + him, and petted him as he lighted it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + After that, she went to her room and sat down before her three-leaved + mirror. There was where she nearly always sat when she came into her room, + if she had nothing in mind to do. She went to that chair as naturally as a + dog goes to his corner. + </p> + <p> + She leaned forward, observing her profile; gravity seemed to be her mood. + But after a long, almost motionless scrutiny, she began to produce + dramatic sketches upon that ever-ready stage, her countenance: she showed + gaiety, satire, doubt, gentleness, appreciation of a companion and + love-in-hiding—all studied in profile first, then repeated for a + “three-quarter view.” Subsequently she ran through them, facing herself in + full. + </p> + <p> + In this manner she outlined a playful scenario for her next interview with + Arthur Russell; but grew solemn again, thinking of the impression she had + already sought to give him. She had no twinges for any underminings of her + “most intimate friend”—in fact, she felt that her work on a new + portrait of Mildred for Mr. + </p> + <p> + Russell had been honest and accurate. But why had it been her instinct to + show him an Alice Adams who didn't exist? + </p> + <p> + Almost everything she had said to him was upon spontaneous impulse, + springing to her lips on the instant; yet it all seemed to have been + founded upon a careful design, as if some hidden self kept such designs in + stock and handed them up to her, ready-made, to be used for its own + purpose. What appeared to be the desired result was a false-coloured image + in Russell's mind; but if he liked that image he wouldn't be liking Alice + Adams; nor would anything he thought about the image be a thought about + her. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, she knew she would go on with her false, fancy colourings of + this nothing as soon as she saw him again; she had just been practicing + them. “What's the idea?” she wondered. “What makes me tell such lies? Why + shouldn't I be just myself?” And then she thought, “But which one is + myself?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes dwelt on the solemn eyes in the mirror; and her lips, disquieted + by a deepening wonder, parted to whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Who in the world are you?” + </p> + <p> + The apparition before her had obeyed her like an alert slave, but now, as + she subsided to a complete stillness, that aspect changed to the old + mockery with which mirrors avenge their wrongs. The nucleus of some queer + thing seemed to gather and shape itself behind the nothingness of the + reflected eyes until it became almost an actual strange presence. If it + could be identified, perhaps the presence was that of the hidden designer + who handed up the false, ready-made pictures, and, for unknown purposes, + made Alice exhibit them; but whatever it was, she suddenly found it + monkey-like and terrifying. In a flutter she jumped up and went to another + part of the room. + </p> + <p> + A moment or two later she was whistling softly as she hung her light coat + over a wooden triangle in her closet, and her musing now was quainter than + the experience that led to it; for what she thought was this, “I certainly + am a queer girl!” She took a little pride in so much originality, + believing herself probably the only person in the world to have such + thoughts as had been hers since she entered the room, and the first to be + disturbed by a strange presence in the mirror. In fact, the effect of the + tiny episode became apparent in that look of preoccupied complacency to be + seen for a time upon any girl who has found reason to suspect that she is + a being without counterpart. + </p> + <p> + This slight glow, still faintly radiant, was observed across the + dinner-table by Walter, but he misinterpreted it. “What YOU lookin' so + self-satisfied about?” he inquired, and added in his knowing way, “I saw + you, all right, cutie!” + </p> + <p> + “Where'd you see me?” + </p> + <p> + “Down-town.” + </p> + <p> + “This afternoon, you mean, Walter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, 'this afternoon, I mean, Walter,'” he returned, burlesquing her + voice at least happily enough to please himself; for he laughed + applausively. “Oh, you never saw me! I passed you close enough to pull a + tooth, but you were awful busy. I never did see anybody as busy as you + get, Alice, when you're towin' a barge. My, but you keep your hands goin'! + Looked like the air was full of 'em! That's why I'm onto why you look so + tickled this evening; I saw you with that big fish.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams laughed benevolently; she was not displeased with this + rallying. “Well, what of it, Walter?” she asked. “If you happen to see + your sister on the street when some nice young man is being attentive to + her——” + </p> + <p> + Walter barked and then cackled. “Whoa, Sal!” he said. “You got the parts + mixed. It's little Alice that was 'being attentive.' I know the big fish + she was attentive to, all right, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” his sister retorted, quietly. “I should think you might have + recognized him, Walter.” + </p> + <p> + Walter looked annoyed. “Still harpin' on THAT!” he complained. “The kind + of women I like, if they get sore they just hit you somewhere on the face + and then they're through. By the way, I heard this Russell was supposed to + be your dear, old, sweet friend Mildred's steady. What you doin' walkin' + as close to him as all that?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams addressed her son in gentle reproof, “Why Walter!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind, mama,” Alice said. “To the horrid all things are horrid.” + </p> + <p> + “Get out!” Walter protested, carelessly. “I heard all about this Russell + down at the shop. Young Joe Lamb's such a talker I wonder he don't ruin + his grandfather's business; he keeps all us cheap help standin' round + listening to him nine-tenths of our time. Well, Joe told me this Russell's + some kin or other to the Palmer family, and he's got some little money of + his own, and he's puttin' it into ole Palmer's trust company and Palmer's + goin' to make him a vice-president of the company. Sort of a + keep-the-money-in-the-family arrangement, Joe Lamb says.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams looked thoughtful. “I don't see——” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Why, this Russell's supposed to be tied up to Mildred,” her son + explained. “When ole Palmer dies this Russell will be his son-in-law, and + all he'll haf' to do'll be to barely lift his feet and step into the ole + man's shoes. It's certainly a mighty fat hand-me-out for this Russell! You + better lay off o' there, Alice. Pick somebody that's got less to lose and + you'll make better showing.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams's air of thoughtfulness had not departed. “But you say this Mr. + Russell is well off on his own account, Walter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Joe Lamb says he's got some little of his own. Didn't know how much.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then——” + </p> + <p> + Walter laughed his laugh. “Cut it out,” he bade her. “Alice wouldn't run + in fourth place.” + </p> + <p> + Alice had been looking at him in a detached way, as though estimating the + value of a specimen in a collection not her own. “Yes,” she said, + indifferently. “You REALLY are vulgar, Walter.” + </p> + <p> + He had finished his meal; and, rising, he came round the table to her and + patted her good-naturedly on the shoulder. “Good ole Allie!” he said. + “HONEST, you wouldn't run in fourth place. If I was you I'd never even + start in the class. That frozen-face gang will rule you off the track soon + as they see your colours.” + </p> + <p> + “Walter!” his mother said again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ain't I her brother?” he returned, seeming to be entirely serious + and direct, for the moment, at least. “<i>I</i> like the ole girl all + right. Fact is, sometimes I'm kind of sorry for her.” + </p> + <p> + “But what's it all ABOUT?” Alice cried. “Simply because you met me + down-town with a man I never saw but once before and just barely know! Why + all this palaver?” + </p> + <p> + “'Why?'” he repeated, grinning. “Well, I've seen you start before, you + know!” He went to the door, and paused. “I got no date to-night. Take you + to the movies, you care to go.” + </p> + <p> + She declined crisply. “No, thanks!” + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” he said, as pleasantly as he knew how. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a chance to show you a better time than we had up at that + frozen-face joint. I'll get you some chop suey afterward.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks!” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he responded and waved a flippant adieu. “As the barber says, + 'The better the advice, the worse it's wasted!' Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + Alice shrugged her shoulders; but a moment or two later, as the jar of the + carelessly slammed front door went through the house, she shook her head, + reconsidering. “Perhaps I ought to have gone with him. It might have kept + him away from whatever dreadful people are his friends—at least for + one night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm sure Walter's a GOOD boy,” Mrs. Adams said, soothingly; and this + was what she almost always said when either her husband or Alice expressed + such misgivings. “He's odd, and he's picked up right queer manners; but + that's only because we haven't given him advantages like the other young + men. But I'm sure he's a GOOD boy.” + </p> + <p> + She reverted to the subject a little later, while she washed the dishes + and Alice wiped them. “Of course Walter could take his place with the + other nice boys of the town even yet,” she said. “I mean, if we could + afford to help him financially. They all belong to the country clubs and + have cars and——” + </p> + <p> + “Let's don't go into that any more, mama,” the daughter begged her. + “What's the use?” + </p> + <p> + “It COULD be of use,” Mrs. Adams insisted. “It could if your father——” + </p> + <p> + “But papa CAN'T.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he can.” + </p> + <p> + “But how can he? He told me a man of his age CAN'T give up a business he's + been in practically all his life, and just go groping about for something + that might never turn up at all. I think he's right about it, too, of + course!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams splashed among the plates with a new vigour heightened by an + old bitterness. “Oh, yes,” she said. “He talks that way; but he knows + better.” + </p> + <p> + “How could he 'know better,' mama?” + </p> + <p> + “HE knows how!” + </p> + <p> + “But what does he know?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams tossed her head. “You don't suppose I'm such a fool I'd be + urging him to give up something for nothing, do you, Alice? Do you suppose + I'd want him to just go 'groping around' like he was telling you? That + would be crazy, of course. Little as his work at Lamb's brings in, I + wouldn't be so silly as to ask him to give it up just on a CHANCE he could + find something else. Good gracious, Alice, you must give me credit for a + little intelligence once in a while!” + </p> + <p> + Alice was puzzled. “But what else could there be except a chance? I don't + see——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do,” her mother interrupted, decisively. “That man could make us + all well off right now if he wanted to. We could have been rich long ago + if he'd ever really felt as he ought to about his family.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Why, how could——” + </p> + <p> + “You know how as well as I do,” Mrs. Adams said, crossly. “I guess you + haven't forgotten how he treated me about it the Sunday before he got + sick.” + </p> + <p> + She went on with her work, putting into it a sudden violence inspired by + the recollection; but Alice, enlightened, gave utterance to a laugh of + lugubrious derision. “Oh, the GLUE factory again!” she cried. “How silly!” + And she renewed her laughter. + </p> + <p> + So often do the great projects of parents appear ignominious to their + children. Mrs. Adams's conception of a glue factory as a fairy godmother + of this family was an absurd old story which Alice had never taken + seriously. She remembered that when she was about fifteen her mother began + now and then to say something to Adams about a “glue factory,” rather + timidly, and as a vague suggestion, but never without irritating him. + Then, for years, the preposterous subject had not been mentioned; possibly + because of some explosion on the part of Adams, when his daughter had not + been present. But during the last year Mrs. Adams had quietly gone back to + these old hints, reviving them at intervals and also reviving her + husband's irritation. Alice's bored impression was that her mother wanted + him to found, or buy, or do something, or other, about a glue factory; and + that he considered the proposal so impracticable as to be insulting. The + parental conversations took place when neither Alice nor Walter was at + hand, but sometimes Alice had come in upon the conclusion of one, to find + her father in a shouting mood, and shocking the air behind him with + profane monosyllables as he departed. Mrs. Adams would be left quiet and + troubled; and when Alice, sympathizing with the goaded man, inquired of + her mother why these tiresome bickerings had been renewed, she always got + the brooding and cryptic answer, “He COULD do it—if he wanted to.” + Alice failed to comprehend the desirability of a glue factory—to her + mind a father engaged in a glue factory lacked impressiveness; had no + advantage over a father employed by Lamb and Company; and she supposed + that Adams knew better than her mother whether such an enterprise would be + profitable or not. Emphatically, he thought it would not, for she had + heard him shouting at the end of one of these painful interviews, “You can + keep up your dang talk till YOU die and <i>I</i> die, but I'll never make + one God's cent that way!” + </p> + <p> + There had been a culmination. Returning from church on the Sunday + preceding the collapse with which Adams's illness had begun, Alice found + her mother downstairs, weeping and intimidated, while her father's + stamping footsteps were loudly audible as he strode up and down his room + overhead. So were his endless repetitions of invective loudly audible: + “That woman! Oh, that woman; Oh, that danged woman!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams admitted to her daughter that it was “the old glue factory” and + that her husband's wildness had frightened her into a “solemn promise” + never to mention the subject again so long as she had breath. Alice + laughed. The “glue factory" idea was not only a bore, but ridiculous, and + her mother's evident seriousness about it one of those inexplicable + vagaries we sometimes discover in the people we know best. But this Sunday + rampage appeared to be the end of it, and when Adams came down to dinner, + an hour later, he was unusually cheerful. Alice was glad he had gone wild + enough to settle the glue factory once and for all; and she had ceased to + think of the episode long before Friday of that week, when Adams was + brought home in the middle of the afternoon by his old employer, the + “great J. A. Lamb,” in the latter's car. + </p> + <p> + During the long illness the “glue factory” was completely forgotten, by + Alice at least; and her laugh was rueful as well as derisive now, in the + kitchen, when she realized that her mother's mind again dwelt upon this + abandoned nuisance. “I thought you'd got over all that nonsense, mama,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams smiled, pathetically. “Of course you think it's nonsense, + dearie. Young people think everything's nonsense that they don't know + anything about.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” Alice cried. “I should think I used to hear enough about + that horrible old glue factory to know something about it!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” her mother returned patiently. “You've never heard anything about it + at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Your father and I didn't discuss it before you children. All you ever + heard was when he'd get in such a rage, after we'd been speaking of it, + that he couldn't control himself when you came in. Wasn't <i>I</i> always + quiet? Did <i>I</i> ever go on talking about it?” + </p> + <p> + “No; perhaps not. But you're talking about it now, mama, after you + promised never to mention it again.” + </p> + <p> + “I promised not to mention it to your father,” said Mrs. Adams, gently. “I + haven't mentioned it to him, have I?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but if you mention it to me I'm afraid you WILL mention it to him. + You always do speak of things that you have on your mind, and you might + get papa all stirred up again about—” Alice paused, a light of + divination flickering in her eyes. “Oh!” she cried. “I SEE!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you see?” + </p> + <p> + “You HAVE been at him about it!” + </p> + <p> + “Not one single word!” + </p> + <p> + “No!” Alice cried. “Not a WORD, but that's what you've meant all along! + You haven't spoken the words to him, but all this urging him to change, to + 'find something better to go into'—it's all been about nothing on + earth but your foolish old glue factory that you know upsets him, and you + gave your solemn word never to speak to him about again! You didn't say + it, but you meant it—and he KNOWS that's what you meant! Oh, mama!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams, with her hands still automatically at work in the flooded + dishpan, turned to face her daughter. “Alice,” she said, tremulously, + “what do I ask for myself?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “I say, What do I ask for myself? Do you suppose <i>I</i> want anything? + Don't you know I'd be perfectly content on your father's present income if + I were the only person to be considered? What do I care about any pleasure + for myself? I'd be willing never to have a maid again; <i>I</i> don't mind + doing the work. If we didn't have any children I'd be glad to do your + father's cooking and the housework and the washing and ironing, too, for + the rest of my life. I wouldn't care. I'm a poor cook and a poor + housekeeper; I don't do anything well; but it would be good enough for + just him and me. I wouldn't ever utter one word of com——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, goodness!” Alice lamented. “What IS it all about?” + </p> + <p> + “It's about this,” said Mrs. Adams, swallowing. “You and Walter are a new + generation and you ought to have the same as the rest of the new + generation get. Poor Walter—asking you to go to the movies and a + Chinese restaurant: the best he had to offer! Don't you suppose <i>I</i> + see how the poor boy is deteriorating? Don't you suppose I know what YOU + have to go through, Alice? And when I think of that man upstairs——” + The agitated voice grew louder. “When I think of him and know that nothing + in the world but his STUBBORNNESS keeps my children from having all they + want and what they OUGHT to have, do you suppose I'm going to hold myself + bound to keep to the absolute letter of a silly promise he got from me by + behaving like a crazy man? I can't! I can't do it! No mother could sit by + and see him lock up a horn of plenty like that in his closet when the + children were starving!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, goodness, goodness me!” Alice protested. “We aren't precisely + 'starving,' are we?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams began to weep. “It's just the same. Didn't I see how flushed + and pretty you looked, this afternoon, after you'd been walking with this + young man that's come here? Do you suppose he'd LOOK at a girl like + Mildred Palmer if you had what you ought to have? Do you suppose he'd be + going into business with her father if YOUR father——” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, mama; you're worse than Walter: I just barely know the man! + DON'T be so absurd!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm always 'absurd,'” Mrs. Adams moaned. “All I can do is cry, while + your father sits upstairs, and his horn of plenty——” + </p> + <p> + But Alice interrupted with a peal of desperate laughter. “Oh, that 'horn + of plenty!' Do come down to earth, mama. How can you call a GLUE factory, + that doesn't exist except in your mind, a 'horn of plenty'? Do let's be a + little rational!” + </p> + <p> + “It COULD be a horn of plenty,” the tearful Mrs. Adams insisted. “It + could! You don't understand a thing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm willing,” Alice said, with tired skepticism. “Make me + understand, then. Where'd you ever get the idea?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams withdrew her hands from the water, dried them on a towel, and + then wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “Your father could make a fortune + if he wanted to,” she said, quietly. “At least, I don't say a fortune, but + anyhow a great deal more than he does make.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've heard that before, mama, and you think he could make it out of + a glue factory. What I'm asking is: How?” + </p> + <p> + “How? Why, by making glue and selling it. Don't you know how bad most glue + is when you try to mend anything? A good glue is one of the rarest things + there is; and it would just sell itself, once it got started. Well, your + father knows how to make as good a glue as there is in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was not interested. “What of it? I suppose probably anybody could + make it if they wanted to.” + </p> + <p> + “I SAID you didn't know anything about it. Nobody else could make it. Your + father knows a formula for making it.” + </p> + <p> + “What of that?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a secret formula. It isn't even down on paper. It's worth any amount + of money.” + </p> + <p> + “'Any amount?'” Alice said, remaining incredulous. “Why hasn't papa sold + it then?” + </p> + <p> + “Just because he's too stubborn to do anything with it at all!” + </p> + <p> + “How did papa get it?” + </p> + <p> + “He got it before you were born, just after we were married. I didn't + think much about it then: it wasn't till you were growing up and I saw how + much we needed money that I——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but how did papa get it?” Alice began to feel a little more curious + about this possible buried treasure. “Did he invent it?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly,” Mrs. Adams said, looking somewhat preoccupied. “He and another + man invented it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then maybe the other man——” + </p> + <p> + “He's dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Then his family——” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think he left any family,” Mrs. Adams said. “Anyhow, it belongs + to your father. At least it belongs to him as much as it does to any one + else. He's got an absolutely perfect right to do anything he wants to with + it, and it would make us all comfortable if he'd do what I want him to—and + he KNOWS it would, too!” + </p> + <p> + Alice shook her head pityingly. “Poor mama!” she said. “Of course he knows + it wouldn't do anything of the kind, or else he'd have done it long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “He would, you say?” her mother cried. “That only shows how little you + know him!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor mama!” Alice said again, soothingly. “If papa were like what you say + he is, he'd be—why, he'd be crazy!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams agreed with a vehemence near passion. “You're right about him + for once: that's just what he is! He sits up there in his stubbornness and + lets us slave here in the kitchen when if he wanted to—if he'd so + much as lift his little finger——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, now!” Alice laughed. “You can't build even a glue factory with + just one little finger.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams seemed about to reply that finding fault with a figure of + speech was beside the point; but a ringing of the front door bell + forestalled the retort. “Now, who do you suppose that is?” she wondered + aloud, then her face brightened. “Ah—did Mr. Russell ask if he could——” + </p> + <p> + “No, he wouldn't be coming this evening,” Alice said. “Probably it's the + great J. A. Lamb: he usually stops for a minute on Thursdays to ask how + papa's getting along. I'll go.” + </p> + <p> + She tossed her apron off, and as she went through the house her expression + was thoughtful. She was thinking vaguely about the glue factory and + wondering if there might be “something in it” after all. If her mother was + right about the rich possibilities of Adams's secret—but that was as + far as Alice's speculations upon the matter went at this time: they were + checked, partly by the thought that her father probably hadn't enough + money for such an enterprise, and partly by the fact that she had arrived + at the front door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + The fine old gentleman revealed when she opened the door was probably the + last great merchant in America to wear the chin beard. White as white + frost, it was trimmed short with exquisite precision, while his upper lip + and the lower expanses of his cheeks were clean and rosy from fresh + shaving. With this trim white chin beard, the white waistcoat, the white + tie, the suit of fine gray cloth, the broad and brilliantly polished black + shoes, and the wide-brimmed gray felt hat, here was a man who had found + his style in the seventies of the last century, and thenceforth kept it. + Files of old magazines of that period might show him, in woodcut, as, + “Type of Boston Merchant”; Nast might have drawn him as an honest + statesman. He was eighty, hale and sturdy, not aged; and his quick blue + eyes, still unflecked, and as brisk as a boy's, saw everything. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, well!” he said, heartily. “You haven't lost any of your good + looks since last week, I see, Miss Alice, so I guess I'm to take it you + haven't been worrying over your daddy. The young feller's getting along + all right, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He's much better; he's sitting up, Mr. Lamb. Won't you come in?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know but I might.” He turned to call toward twin disks of + light at the curb, “Be out in a minute, Billy”; and the silhouette of a + chauffeur standing beside a car could be seen to salute in response, as + the old gentleman stepped into the hall. “You don't suppose your daddy's + receiving callers yet, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He's a good deal stronger than he was when you were here last week, but + I'm afraid he's not very presentable, though.” + </p> + <p> + “'Presentable?'” The old man echoed her jovially. “Pshaw! I've seen lots + of sick folks. <i>I</i> know what they look like and how they love to kind + of nest in among a pile of old blankets and wrappers. Don't you worry + about THAT, Miss Alice, if you think he'd like to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he would—if——” Alice hesitated; then said + quickly, “Of course he'd love to see you and he's quite able to, if you + care to come up.” + </p> + <p> + She ran up the stairs ahead of him, and had time to snatch the crocheted + wrap from her father's shoulders. Swathed as usual, he was sitting beside + a table, reading the evening paper; but when his employer appeared in the + doorway he half rose as if to come forward in greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Sit still!” the old gentleman shouted. “What do you mean? Don't you know + you're weak as a cat? D'you think a man can be sick as long as you have + and NOT be weak as a cat? What you trying to do the polite with ME for?” + </p> + <p> + Adams gratefully protracted the handshake that accompanied these + inquiries. “This is certainly mighty fine of you, Mr. Lamb,” he said. “I + guess Alice has told you how much our whole family appreciate your coming + here so regularly to see how this old bag o' bones was getting along. + Haven't you, Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa,” she said; and turned to go out, but Lamb checked her. + </p> + <p> + “Stay right here, Miss Alice; I'm not even going to sit down. I know how + it upsets sick folks when people outside the family come in for the first + time.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't upset me,” Adams said. “I'll feel a lot better for getting a + glimpse of you, Mr. Lamb.” + </p> + <p> + The visitor's laugh was husky, but hearty and re-assuring, like his voice + in speaking. “That's the way all my boys blarney me, Miss Alice,” he said. + “They think I'll make the work lighter on 'em if they can get me kind of + flattered up. You just tell your daddy it's no use; he doesn't get on MY + soft side, pretending he likes to see me even when he's sick.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm not so sick any more,” Adams said. “I expect to be back in my + place ten days from now at the longest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, don't hurry it, Virgil; don't hurry it. You take your time; + take your time.” + </p> + <p> + This brought to Adams's lips a feeble smile not lacking in a kind of + vanity, as feeble. “Why?” he asked. “I suppose you think my department + runs itself down there, do you?” + </p> + <p> + His employer's response was another husky laugh. “Well, well, well!” he + cried, and patted Adams's shoulder with a strong pink hand. “Listen to + this young feller, Miss Alice, will you! He thinks we can't get along + without him a minute! Yes, sir, this daddy of yours believes the whole + works 'll just take and run down if he isn't there to keep 'em wound up. I + always suspected he thought a good deal of himself, and now I know he + does!” + </p> + <p> + Adams looked troubled. “Well, I don't like to feel that my salary's going + on with me not earning it.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to him, Miss Alice! Wouldn't you think, now, he'd let me be the + one to worry about that? Why, on my word, if your daddy had his way, <i>I</i> + wouldn't be anywhere. He'd take all my worrying and everything else off my + shoulders and shove me right out of Lamb and Company! He would!” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me I've been soldiering on you a pretty long while, Mr. + Lamb,” the convalescent said, querulously. “I don't feel right about it; + but I'll be back in ten days. You'll see.” + </p> + <p> + The old man took his hand in parting. “All right; we'll see, Virgil. Of + course we do need you, seriously speaking; but we don't need you so bad + we'll let you come down there before you're fully fit and able.” He went + to the door. “You hear, Miss Alice? That's what I wanted to make the old + feller understand, and what I want you to kind of enforce on him. The old + place is there waiting for him, and it'd wait ten years if it took him + that long to get good and well. You see that he remembers it, Miss Alice!” + </p> + <p> + She went down the stairs with him, and he continued to impress this upon + her until he had gone out of the front door. And even after that, the + husky voice called back from the darkness, as he went to his car, “Don't + forget, Miss Alice; let him take his own time. We always want him, but we + want him to get good and well first. Good-night, good-night, young lady!” + </p> + <p> + When she closed the door her mother came from the farther end of the + “living-room,” where there was no light; and Alice turned to her. + </p> + <p> + “I can't help liking that old man, mama,” she said. “He always sounds so—well, + so solid and honest and friendly! I do like him.” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Adams failed in sympathy upon this point. “He didn't say anything + about raising your father's salary, did he?” she asked, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I thought not.” + </p> + <p> + She would have said more, but Alice, indisposed to listen, began to + whistle, ran up the stairs, and went to sit with her father. She found him + bright-eyed with the excitement a first caller brings into a slow + convalescence: his cheeks showed actual hints of colour; and he was + smiling tremulously as he filled and lit his pipe. She brought the + crocheted scarf and put it about his shoulders again, then took a chair + near him. + </p> + <p> + “I believe seeing Mr. Lamb did do you good, papa,” she said. “I sort of + thought it might, and that's why I let him come up. You really look a + little like your old self again.” + </p> + <p> + Adams exhaled a breathy “Ha!” with the smoke from his pipe as he waved the + match to extinguish it. “That's fine,” he said. “The smoke I had before + dinner didn't taste the way it used to, and I kind of wondered if I'd lost + my liking for tobacco, but this one seems to be all right. You bet it did + me good to see J. A. Lamb! He's the biggest man that's ever lived in this + town or ever will live here; and you can take all the Governors and + Senators or anything they've raised here, and put 'em in a pot with him, + and they won't come out one-two-three alongside o' him! And to think as + big a man as that, with all his interests and everything he's got on his + mind—to think he'd never let anything prevent him from coming here + once every week to ask how I was getting along, and then walk right + upstairs and kind of CALL on me, as it were well, it makes me sort of feel + as if I wasn't so much of a nobody, so to speak, as your mother seems to + like to make out sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “How foolish, papa! Of COURSE you're not 'a nobody.'” + </p> + <p> + Adams chuckled faintly upon his pipe-stem, what vanity he had seeming to + be further stimulated by his daughter's applause. “I guess there aren't a + whole lot of people in this town that could claim J. A. showed that much + interest in 'em,” he said. “Of course I don't set up to believe it's all + because of merit, or anything like that. He'd do the same for anybody else + that'd been with the company as long as I have, but still it IS something + to be with the company that long and have him show he appreciates it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, it is, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” Adams said, reflectively. “Yes, sir, I guess that's so. And + besides, it all goes to show the kind of a man he is. Simon pure, that's + what that man is, Alice. Simon pure! There's never been anybody work for + him that didn't respect him more than they did any other man in the world, + I guess. And when you work for him you know he respects you, too. Right + from the start you get the feeling that J. A. puts absolute confidence in + you; and that's mighty stimulating: it makes you want to show him he + hasn't misplaced it. There's great big moral values to the way a man like + him gets you to feeling about your relations with the business: it ain't + all just dollars and cents—not by any means!” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a time, then returned with increasing enthusiasm to this + theme, and Alice was glad to see so much renewal of life in him; he had + not spoken with a like cheerful vigour since before his illness. The visit + of his idolized great man had indeed been good for him, putting new spirit + into him; and liveliness of the body followed that of the spirit. His + improvement carried over the night: he slept well and awoke late, + declaring that he was “pretty near a well man and ready for business right + now.” Moreover, having slept again in the afternoon, he dressed and went + down to dinner, leaning but lightly on Alice, who conducted him. + </p> + <p> + “My! but you and your mother have been at it with your scrubbing and + dusting!” he said, as they came through the “living-room.” “I don't know I + ever did see the house so spick and span before!” His glance fell upon a + few carnations in a vase, and he chuckled admiringly. “Flowers, too! So + THAT'S what you coaxed that dollar and a half out o 'me for, this + morning!” + </p> + <p> + Other embellishments brought forth his comment when he had taken his old + seat at the head of the small dinner-table. “Why, I declare, Alice!” he + exclaimed. “I been so busy looking at all the spick-and-spanishness after + the house-cleaning, and the flowers out in the parlour—'living room' + I suppose you want me to call it, if I just GOT to be fashionable—I + been so busy studying over all this so-and-so, I declare I never noticed + YOU till this minute! My, but you ARE all dressed up! What's goin' on? + What's it about: you so all dressed up, and flowers in the parlour and + everything?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see, papa? It's in honour of your coming downstairs again, of + course.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so that's it,” he said. “I never would 'a' thought of that, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + But Walter looked sidelong at his father, and gave forth his sly and + knowing laugh. “Neither would I!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Adams lifted his eyebrows jocosely. “You're jealous, are you, sonny? You + don't want the old man to think our young lady'd make so much fuss over + him, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on thinkin' it's over you,” Walter retorted, amused. “Go on and think + it. It'll do you good.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'll think it,” Adams said. “It isn't anybody's birthday. + Certainly the decorations are on account of me coming downstairs. Didn't + you hear Alice say so?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I heard her say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then——” + </p> + <p> + Walter interrupted him with a little music. Looking shrewdly at Alice, he + sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I was walkin' out on Monday with my sweet thing. + She's my neat thing, + My sweet thing: + I'll go round on Tuesday night to see her. + Oh, how we'll spoon——” + </pre> + <p> + “Walter!” his mother cried. “WHERE do you learn such vulgar songs?” + However, she seemed not greatly displeased with him, and laughed as she + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “So that's it, Alice!” said Adams. “Playing the hypocrite with your old + man, are you? It's some new beau, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I only wish it were,” she said, calmly. “No. It's just what I said: it's + all for you, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let her con you,” Walter advised his father. “She's got + expectations. You hang around downstairs a while after dinner and you'll + see.” + </p> + <p> + But the prophecy failed, though Adams went to his own room without waiting + to test it. No one came. + </p> + <p> + Alice stayed in the “living-room” until half-past nine, when she went + slowly upstairs. Her mother, almost tearful, met her at the top, and + whispered, “You mustn't mind, dearie.” + </p> + <p> + “Mustn't mind what?” Alice asked, and then, as she went on her way, + laughed scornfully. “What utter nonsense!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Next day she cut the stems of the rather scant show of carnations and + refreshed them with new water. At dinner, her father, still in high + spirits, observed that she had again “dressed up” in honour of his second + descent of the stairs; and Walter repeated his fragment of objectionable + song; but these jocularities were rendered pointless by the eventless + evening that followed; and in the morning the carnations began to appear + tarnished and flaccid. + </p> + <p> + Alice gave them a long look, then threw them away; and neither Walter nor + her father was inspired to any rallying by her plain costume for that + evening. Mrs. Adams was visibly depressed. + </p> + <p> + When Alice finished helping her mother with the dishes, she went outdoors + and sat upon the steps of the little front veranda. The night, gentle with + warm air from the south, surrounded her pleasantly, and the perpetual + smoke was thinner. Now that the furnaces of dwelling-houses were no longer + fired, life in that city had begun to be less like life in a railway + tunnel; people were aware of summer in the air, and in the thickened + foliage of the shade-trees, and in the sky. Stars were unveiled by the + passing of the denser smoke fogs, and to-night they could be seen clearly; + they looked warm and near. Other girls sat upon verandas and stoops in + Alice's street, cheerful as young fishermen along the banks of a stream. + </p> + <p> + Alice could hear them from time to time; thin sopranos persistent in + laughter that fell dismally upon her ears. She had set no lines or nets + herself, and what she had of “expectations,” as Walter called them, were + vanished. For Alice was experienced; and one of the conclusions she drew + from her experience was that when a man says, “I'd take you for anything + you wanted me to,” he may mean it or, he may not; but, if he does, he will + not postpone the first opportunity to say something more. Little affairs, + once begun, must be warmed quickly; for if they cool they are dead. + </p> + <p> + But Alice was not thinking of Arthur Russell. When she tossed away the + carnations she likewise tossed away her thoughts of that young man. She + had been like a boy who sees upon the street, some distance before him, a + bit of something round and glittering, a possible dime. He hopes it is a + dime, and, until he comes near enough to make sure, he plays that it is a + dime. In his mind he has an adventure with it: he buys something + delightful. If he picks it up, discovering only some tin-foil which has + happened upon a round shape, he feels a sinking. A dulness falls upon him. + </p> + <p> + So Alice was dull with the loss of an adventure; and when the laughter of + other girls reached her, intermittently, she had not sprightliness enough + left in her to be envious of their gaiety. Besides, these neighbours were + ineligible even for her envy, being of another caste; they could never + know a dance at the Palmers', except remotely, through a newspaper. Their + laughter was for the encouragement of snappy young men of the stores and + offices down-town, clerks, bookkeepers, what not—some of them + probably graduates of Frincke's Business College. + </p> + <p> + Then, as she recalled that dark portal, with its dusty stairway mounting + between close walls to disappear in the upper shadows, her mind drew back + as from a doorway to Purgatory. Nevertheless, it was a picture often in + her reverie; and sometimes it came suddenly, without sequence, into the + midst of her other thoughts, as if it leaped up among them from a lower + darkness; and when it arrived it wanted to stay. So a traveller, still + roaming the world afar, sometimes broods without apparent reason upon his + family burial lot: “I wonder if I shall end there.” + </p> + <p> + The foreboding passed abruptly, with a jerk of her breath, as the + street-lamp revealed a tall and easy figure approaching from the north, + swinging a stick in time to its stride. She had given Russell up—and + he came. + </p> + <p> + “What luck for me!” he exclaimed. “To find you alone!” + </p> + <p> + Alice gave him her hand for an instant, not otherwise moving. “I'm glad it + happened so,” she said. “Let's stay out here, shall we? Do you think it's + too provincial to sit on a girl's front steps with her?” + </p> + <p> + “'Provincial?' Why, it's the very best of our institutions,” he returned, + taking his place beside her. “At least, I think so to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks! Is that practice for other nights somewhere else?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he laughed. “The practicing all led up to this. Did I come too + soon?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, gravely. “Just in time!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to be so accurate; I've spent two evenings wanting to come, Miss + Adams, instead of doing what I was doing.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Dinners. Large and long dinners. Your fellow-citizens are immensely + hospitable to a newcomer.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” Alice said. “We don't do it for everybody. Didn't you find + yourself charmed?” + </p> + <p> + “One was a men's dinner,” he explained. “Mr. Palmer seemed to think I + ought to be shown to the principal business men.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the other dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “My cousin Mildred gave it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, DID she!” Alice said, sharply, but she recovered herself in the same + instant, and laughed. “She wanted to show you to the principal business + women, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. At all events, I shouldn't give myself out to be so much + feted by your 'fellow-citizens,' after all, seeing these were both done by + my relatives, the Palmers. However, there are others to follow, I'm + afraid. I was wondering—I hoped maybe you'd be coming to some of + them. Aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I rather doubt it,” Alice said, slowly. “Mildred's dance was almost the + only evening I've gone out since my father's illness began. He seemed + better that day; so I went. He was better the other day when he wanted + those cigars. He's very much up and down.” She paused. “I'd almost + forgotten that Mildred is your cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a very near one,” he explained. “Mr. Palmer's father was my + great-uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, of course you are related.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that distantly.” + </p> + <p> + Alice said placidly, “It's quite an advantage.” + </p> + <p> + He agreed. “Yes. It is.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, in the same placid tone. “I mean for Mildred.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see——” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. “No. You wouldn't. I mean it's an advantage over the rest of + us who might like to compete for some of your time; and the worst of it is + we can't accuse her of being unfair about it. We can't prove she showed + any trickiness in having you for a cousin. Whatever else she might plan to + do with you, she didn't plan that. So the rest of us must just bear it!” + </p> + <p> + “The 'rest of you!'” he laughed. “It's going to mean a great deal of + suffering!” + </p> + <p> + Alice resumed her placid tone. “You're staying at the Palmers', aren't + you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not now. I've taken an apartment. I'm going to live here; I'm + permanent. Didn't I tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I'd heard somewhere that you were,” she said. “Do you think + you'll like living here?” + </p> + <p> + “How can one tell?” + </p> + <p> + “If I were in your place I think I should be able to tell, Mr. Russell.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, good gracious!” she cried. “Haven't you got the most perfect + creature in town for your—your cousin? SHE expects to make you like + living here, doesn't she? How could you keep from liking it, even if you + tried not to, under the circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, there's such a lot of circumstances,” he explained; “I'm + not sure I'll like getting back into a business again. I suppose most of + the men of my age in the country have been going through the same + experience: the War left us with a considerable restlessness of spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “You were in the War?” she asked, quickly, and as quickly answered + herself, “Of course you were!” + </p> + <p> + “I was a left-over; they only let me out about four months ago,” he said. + “It's quite a shake-up trying to settle down again.” + </p> + <p> + “You were in France, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; but I didn't get up to the front much—only two or three + times, and then just for a day or so. I was in the transportation + service.” + </p> + <p> + “You were an officer, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. “They let me play I was a major.” + </p> + <p> + “I guessed a major,” she said. “You'd always be pretty grand, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Russell was amused. “Well, you see,” he informed her, “as it happened, we + had at least several other majors in our army. Why would I always be + something 'pretty grand?'” + </p> + <p> + “You're related to the Palmers. Don't you notice they always affect the + pretty grand?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you think I'm only one of their affectations, I take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you seem to be the most successful one they've got!” Alice said, + lightly. “You certainly do belong to them.” And she laughed as if at + something hidden from him. “Don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “But you've just excused me for that,” he protested. “You said nobody + could be blamed for my being their third cousin. What a contradictory girl + you are!” + </p> + <p> + Alice shook her head. “Let's keep away from the kind of girl I am.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “That's just what I came here to talk about.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head again. “Let's keep first to the kind of man you are. + I'm glad you were in the War.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know.” She was quiet a moment, for she was thinking that here + she spoke the truth: his service put about him a little glamour that + helped to please her with him. She had been pleased with him during their + walk; pleased with him on his own account; and now that pleasure was + growing keener. She looked at him, and though the light in which she saw + him was little more than starlight, she saw that he was looking steadily + at her with a kindly and smiling seriousness. All at once it seemed to her + that the night air was sweeter to breathe, as if a distant fragrance of + new blossoms had been blown to her. She smiled back to him, and said, + “Well, what kind of man are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; I've often wondered,” he replied. “What kind of girl are + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember? I told you the other day. I'm just me!” + </p> + <p> + “But who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “You forget everything;” said Alice. “You told me what kind of a girl I + am. You seemed to think you'd taken quite a fancy to me from the very + first.” + </p> + <p> + “So I did,” he agreed, heartily. + </p> + <p> + “But how quickly you forgot it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. I only want YOU to say what kind of a girl you are.” + </p> + <p> + She mocked him. “'I don't know; I've often wondered!' What kind of a girl + does Mildred tell you I am? What has she said about me since she told you + I was 'a Miss Adams?'” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; I haven't asked her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then DON'T ask her,” Alice said, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she's such a perfect creature and I'm such an imperfect one. + Perfect creatures have the most perfect way of ruining the imperfect + ones.” + </p> + <p> + “But then they wouldn't be perfect. Not if they——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, they remain perfectly perfect,” she assured him. “That's because + they never go into details. They're not so vulgar as to come right out and + TELL that you've been in jail for stealing chickens. They just look + absent-minded and say in a low voice, 'Oh, very; but I scarcely think + you'd like her particularly'; and then begin to talk of something else + right away.” + </p> + <p> + His smile had disappeared. “Yes,” he said, somewhat ruefully. “That does + sound like Mildred. You certainly do seem to know her! Do you know + everybody as well as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Not myself,” Alice said. “I don't know myself at all. I got to wondering + about that—about who I was—the other day after you walked home + with me.” + </p> + <p> + He uttered an exclamation, and added, explaining it, “You do give a man a + chance to be fatuous, though! As if it were walking home with me that made + you wonder about yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “It was,” Alice informed him, coolly. “I was wondering what I wanted to + make you think of me, in case I should ever happen to see you again.” + </p> + <p> + This audacity appeared to take his breath. “By George!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't be astonished,” she said. “What I decided then was that I + would probably never dare to be just myself with you—not if I cared + to have you want to see me again—and yet here I am, just being + myself after all!” + </p> + <p> + “You ARE the cheeriest series of shocks,” Russell exclaimed, whereupon + Alice added to the series. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me: Is it a good policy for me to follow with you?” she asked, and + he found the mockery in her voice delightful. “Would you advise me to + offer you shocks as a sort of vacation from suavity?” + </p> + <p> + “Suavity” was yet another sketch of Mildred; a recognizable one, or it + would not have been humorous. In Alice's hands, so dexterous in this work, + her statuesque friend was becoming as ridiculous as a fine figure of wax + left to the mercies of a satirist. + </p> + <p> + But the lively young sculptress knew better than to overdo: what she did + must appear to spring all from mirth; so she laughed as if unwillingly, + and said, “I MUSTN'T laugh at Mildred! In the first place, she's your—your + cousin. And in the second place, she's not meant to be funny; it isn't + right to laugh at really splendid people who take themselves seriously. In + the third place, you won't come again if I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be sure of that,” Russell said, “whatever you do.” + </p> + <p> + “'Whatever I do?'” she echoed. “That sounds as if you thought I COULD be + terrific! Be careful; there's one thing I could do that would keep you + away.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “I could tell you not to come,” she said. “I wonder if I ought to.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you wonder if you 'ought to?'” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you guess?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let's both be mysteries to each other,” she suggested. “I mystify + you because I wonder, and you mystify me because you don't guess why I + wonder. We'll let it go at that, shall we?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; so long as it's certain that you DON'T tell me not to come + again.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not tell you that—yet,” she said. “In fact——” She + paused, reflecting, with her head to one side. “In fact, I won't tell you + not to come, probably, until I see that's what you want me to tell you. + I'll let you out easily—and I'll be sure to see it. Even before you + do, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “That arrangement suits me,” Russell returned, and his voice held no trace + of jocularity: he had become serious. “It suits me better if you're enough + in earnest to mean that I can come—oh, not whenever I want to; I + don't expect so much!—but if you mean that I can see you pretty + often.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'm in earnest,” she said. “But before I say you can come + 'pretty often,' I'd like to know how much of my time you'd need if you did + come 'whenever you want to'; and of course you wouldn't dare make any + answer to that question except one. Wouldn't you let me have Thursdays + out?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he protested. “I want to know. Will you let me come pretty + often?” + </p> + <p> + “Lean toward me a little,” Alice said. “I want you to understand.” And as + he obediently bent his head near hers, she inclined toward him as if to + whisper; then, in a half-shout, she cried, + </p> + <p> + “YES!” + </p> + <p> + He clapped his hands. “By George!” he said. “What a girl you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for the first reason, because you have such gaieties as that one. I + should think your father would actually like being ill, just to be in the + house with you all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean by that,” Alice inquired, “I keep my family cheerful with my + amusing little ways?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “There were only boys in your family, weren't there, Mr. Russell?” + </p> + <p> + “I was an only child, unfortunately.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. “I see you hadn't any sisters.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment he puzzled over her meaning, then saw it, and was more + delighted with her than ever. “I can answer a question of yours, now, that + I couldn't a while ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” she returned, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “But how could you know?” + </p> + <p> + “It's the question I asked you about whether you were going to like living + here,” she said. “You're about to tell me that now you know you WILL like + it.” + </p> + <p> + “More telepathy!” he exclaimed. “Yes, that was it, precisely. I suppose + the same thing's been said to you so many times that you——” + </p> + <p> + “No, it hasn't,” Alice said, a little confused for the moment. “Not at + all. I meant——” She paused, then asked in a gentle voice, + “Would you really like to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I was only afraid you didn't mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “See here,” he said. “I did mean it. I told you it was being pretty + difficult for me to settle down to things again. Well, it's more difficult + than you know, but I think I can pull through in fair spirits if I can see + a girl like you 'pretty often.'” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” she said, in a business-like tone. “I've told you that you + can if you want to.” + </p> + <p> + “I do want to,” he assured her. “I do, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “How often is 'pretty often,' Mr. Russell?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you walk with me sometimes? To-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes. Not to-morrow. The day after.” + </p> + <p> + “That's splendid!” he said. “You'll walk with me day after to-morrow, and + the night after that I'll see you at Miss Lamb's dance, won't I?” + </p> + <p> + But this fell rather chillingly upon Alice. “Miss Lamb's dance? Which Miss + Lamb?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—it's the one that's just coming out of mourning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Henrietta—yes. Is her dance so soon? I'd forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll be there, won't you?” he asked. “Please say you're going.” + </p> + <p> + Alice did not respond at once, and he urged her again: “Please do promise + you'll be there.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't promise anything,” she said, slowly. “You see, for one thing, + papa might not be well enough.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he is?” said Russell. “If he is you'll surely come, won't you? Or, + perhaps——” He hesitated, then went on quickly, “I don't know + the rules in this place yet, and different places have different rules; + but do you have to have a chaperone, or don't girls just go to dances with + the men sometimes? If they do, would you—would you let me take you?” + </p> + <p> + Alice was startled. “Good gracious!” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think your relatives——Aren't you expected to go + with Mildred—and Mrs. Palmer?” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily. It doesn't matter what I might be expected to do,” he + said. “Will you go with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I——No; I couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't. I'm not going.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “Papa's not really any better,” Alice said, huskily. “I'm too worried + about him to go to a dance.” Her voice sounded emotional, genuinely + enough; there was something almost like a sob in it. “Let's talk of other + things, please.” + </p> + <p> + He acquiesced gently; but Mrs. Adams, who had been listening to the + conversation at the open window, just overhead, did not hear him. She had + correctly interpreted the sob in Alice's voice, and, trembling with sudden + anger, she rose from her knees, and went fiercely to her husband's room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + He had not undressed, and he sat beside the table, smoking his pipe and + reading his newspaper. Upon his forehead the lines in that old pattern, + the historical map of his troubles, had grown a little vaguer lately; + relaxed by the complacency of a man who not only finds his health + restored, but sees the days before him promising once more a familiar + routine that he has always liked to follow. + </p> + <p> + As his wife came in, closing the door behind her, he looked up cheerfully, + “Well, mother,” he said, “what's the news downstairs?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I came to tell you,” she informed him, grimly. + </p> + <p> + Adams lowered his newspaper to his knee and peered over his spectacles at + her. She had remained by the door, standing, and the great greenish shadow + of the small lamp-shade upon his table revealed her but dubiously. “Isn't + everything all right?” he asked. “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry: I'm going to tell you,” she said, her grimness not relaxed. + “There's matter enough, Virgil Adams. Matter enough to make me sick of + being alive!” + </p> + <p> + With that, the markings on his brows began to emerge again in all their + sharpness; the old pattern reappeared. “Oh, my, my!” he lamented. “I + thought maybe we were all going to settle down to a little peace for a + while. What's it about now?” + </p> + <p> + “It's about Alice. Did you think it was about ME or anything for MYSELF?” + </p> + <p> + Like some ready old machine, always in order, his irritability responded + immediately and automatically to her emotion. “How in thunder could I + think what it's about, or who it's for? SAY it, and get it over!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll 'say' it,” she promised, ominously. “What I've come to ask you + is, How much longer do you expect me to put up with that old man and his + doings?” + </p> + <p> + “Whose doings? What old man?” + </p> + <p> + She came at him, fiercely accusing. “You know well enough what old man, + Virgil Adams! That old man who was here the other night.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lamb?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; 'Mister Lamb!'” She mocked his voice. “What other old man would I be + likely to mean except J. A. Lamb?” + </p> + <p> + “What's he been doing now?” her husband inquired, satirically. “Where'd + you get something new against him since the last time you——” + </p> + <p> + “Just this!” she cried. “The other night when that man was here, if I'd + known how he was going to make my child suffer, I'd never have let him set + his foot in my house.” + </p> + <p> + Adams leaned back in his chair as though her absurdity had eased his mind. + “Oh, I see,” he said. “You've just gone plain crazy. That's the only + explanation of such talk, and it suits the case.” + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't that man made us all suffer every day of our lives?” she demanded. + “I'd like to know why it is that my life and my children's lives have to + be sacrificed to him?” + </p> + <p> + “How are they 'sacrificed' to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you keep on working for him! Because you keep on letting him hand + out whatever miserable little pittance he chooses to give you; that's why! + It's as if he were some horrible old Juggernaut and I had to see my + children's own father throwing them under the wheels to keep him + satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't hear any more such stuff!” Lifting his paper, Adams affected to + read. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better listen to me,” she admonished him. “You might be sorry you + didn't, in case he ever tried to set foot in my house again! I might tell + him to his face what I think of him.” + </p> + <p> + At this, Adams slapped the newspaper down upon his knee. “Oh, the devil! + What's it matter what you think of him?” + </p> + <p> + “It had better matter to you!” she cried. “Do you suppose I'm going to + submit forever to him and his family and what they're doing to my child?” + </p> + <p> + “What are he and his family doing to 'your child?'” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams came out with it. “That snippy little Henrietta Lamb has always + snubbed Alice every time she's ever had the chance. She's followed the + lead of the other girls; they've always all of 'em been jealous of Alice + because she dared to try and be happy, and because she's showier and + better-looking than they are, even though you do give her only about + thirty-five cents a year to do it on! They've all done everything on earth + they could to drive the young men away from her and belittle her to 'em; + and this mean little Henrietta Lamb's been the worst of the whole crowd to + Alice, every time she could see a chance.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” Adams asked, incredulously. “Why should she or anybody else + pick on Alice?” + </p> + <p> + “'Why?' 'What for?'” his wife repeated with a greater vehemence. “Do YOU + ask me such a thing as that? Do you really want to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I'd want to know—I would if I believed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll tell you,” she said in a cold fury. “It's on account of you, + Virgil, and nothing else in the world.” + </p> + <p> + He hooted at her. “Oh, yes! These girls don't like ME, so they pick on + Alice.” + </p> + <p> + “Quit your palavering and evading,” she said. “A crowd of girls like that, + when they get a pretty girl like Alice among them, they act just like wild + beasts. They'll tear her to pieces, or else they'll chase her and run her + out, because they know if she had half a chance she'd outshine 'em. They + can't do that to a girl like Mildred Palmer because she's got money and + family to back her. Now you listen to me, Virgil Adams: the way the world + is now, money IS family. Alice would have just as much 'family' as any of + 'em every single bit—if you hadn't fallen behind in the race.” + </p> + <p> + “How did I——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did!” she cried. “Twenty-five years ago when we were starting + and this town was smaller, you and I could have gone with any of 'em if + we'd tried hard enough. Look at the people we knew then that do hold their + heads up alongside of anybody in this town! WHY can they? Because the men + of those families made money and gave their children everything that makes + life worth living! Why can't we hold our heads up? Because those men + passed you in the race. They went up the ladder, and you—you're + still a clerk down at that old hole!” + </p> + <p> + “You leave that out, please,” he said. “I thought you were going to tell + me something Henrietta Lamb had done to our Alice.” + </p> + <p> + “You BET I'm going to tell you,” she assured him, vehemently. “But first + I'm telling WHY she does it. It's because you've never given Alice any + backing nor any background, and they all know they can do anything they + like to her with perfect impunity. If she had the hundredth part of what + THEY have to fall back on she'd have made 'em sing a mighty different song + long ago!” + </p> + <p> + “How would she?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my heavens, but you're slow!” Mrs. Adams moaned. “Look here! You + remember how practically all the nicest boys in this town used to come + here a few years ago. Why, they were all crazy over her; and the girls HAD + to be nice to her then. Look at the difference now! There'll be a whole + month go by and not a young man come to call on her, let alone send her + candy or flowers, or ever think of TAKING her any place and yet she's + prettier and brighter than she was when they used to come. It isn't the + child's fault she couldn't hold 'em, is it? Poor thing, SHE tried hard + enough! I suppose you'd say it was her fault, though.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then whose fault is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mine, mine,” he said, wearily. “I drove the young men away, of + course.” + </p> + <p> + “You might as well have driven 'em, Virgil. It amounts to just the same + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “How does it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because as they got older a good many of 'em began to think more about + money; that's one thing. Money's at the bottom of it all, for that matter. + Look at these country clubs and all such things: the other girls' families + belong and we don't, and Alice don't; and she can't go unless somebody + takes her, and nobody does any more. Look at the other girls' houses, and + then look at our house, so shabby and old-fashioned she'd be pretty near + ashamed to ask anybody to come in and sit down nowadays! Look at her + clothes—oh, yes; you think you shelled out a lot for that little + coat of hers and the hat and skirt she got last March; but it's nothing. + Some of these girls nowadays spend more than your whole salary on their + clothes. And what jewellery has she got? A plated watch and two or three + little pins and rings of the kind people's maids wouldn't wear now. Good + Lord, Virgil Adams, wake up! Don't sit there and tell me you don't know + things like this mean SUFFERING for the child!” + </p> + <p> + He had begun to rub his hands wretchedly back and forth over his bony + knees, as if in that way he somewhat alleviated the tedium caused by her + racking voice. “Oh, my, my!” he muttered. “OH, my, my!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should think you WOULD say 'Oh, my, my!'” she took him up, loudly. + “That doesn't help things much! If you ever wanted to DO anything about + it, the poor child might see some gleam of hope in her life. You don't + CARE for her, that's the trouble; you don't care a single thing about + her.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't?” + </p> + <p> + “No; you don't. Why, even with your miserable little salary you could have + given her more than you have. You're the closest man I ever knew: it's + like pulling teeth to get a dollar out of you for her, now and then, and + yet you hide some away, every month or so, in some wretched little + investment or other. You——” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, now,” he interrupted, angrily. “You look here! If I didn't put + a little by whenever I could, in a bond or something, where would you be + if anything happened to me? The insurance doctors never passed me; YOU + know that. Haven't we got to have SOMETHING to fall back on?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we have!” she cried. “We ought to have something to go on with right + now, too, when we need it. Do you suppose these snippets would treat Alice + the way they do if she could afford to ENTERTAIN? They leave her out of + their dinners and dances simply because they know she can't give any + dinners and dances to leave them out of! They know she can't get EVEN, and + that's the whole story! That's why Henrietta Lamb's done this thing to her + now.” + </p> + <p> + Adams had gone back to his rubbing of his knees. “Oh, my, my!” he said. + “WHAT thing?” + </p> + <p> + She told him. “Your dear, grand, old Mister Lamb's Henrietta has sent out + invitations for a large party—a LARGE one. Everybody that is anybody + in this town is asked, you can be sure. There's a very fine young man, a + Mr. Russell, has just come to town, and he's interested in Alice, and he's + asked her to go to this dance with him. Well, Alice can't accept. She + can't go with him, though she'd give anything in the world to do it. Do + you understand? The reason she can't is because Henrietta Lamb hasn't + invited her. Do you want to know why Henrietta hasn't invited her? It's + because she knows Alice can't get even, and because she thinks Alice ought + to be snubbed like this on account of only being the daughter of one of + her grandfather's clerks. I HOPE you understand!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my, my!” he said. “OH, my, my!” + </p> + <p> + “That's your sweet old employer,” his wife cried, tauntingly. “That's your + dear, kind, grand old Mister Lamb! Alice has been left out of a good many + smaller things, like big dinners and little dances, but this is just the + same as serving her notice that she's out of everything! And it's all done + by your dear, grand old——” + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” Adams exclaimed. “I don't want to hear any more of that! You + can't hold him responsible for everything his grandchildren do, I guess! + He probably doesn't know a thing about it. You don't suppose he's + troubling HIS head over——” + </p> + <p> + But she burst out at him passionately. “Suppose you trouble YOUR head + about it! You'd better, Virgil Adams! You'd better, unless you want to see + your child just dry up into a miserable old maid! She's still young and + she has a chance for happiness, if she had a father that didn't bring a + millstone to hang around her neck, instead of what he ought to give her! + You just wait till you die and God asks you what you had in your breast + instead of a heart!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my, my!” he groaned. “What's my heart got to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! You haven't got one or you'd give her what she needed. Am I + asking anything you CAN'T do? You know better; you know I'm not!” + </p> + <p> + At this he sat suddenly rigid, his troubled hands ceasing to rub his + knees; and he looked at her fixedly. “Now, tell me,” he said, slowly. + “Just what ARE you asking?” + </p> + <p> + “You know!” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “You mean you've broken your word never to speak of THAT to me again?” + </p> + <p> + “What do <i>I</i> care for my word?” she cried, and, sinking to the floor + at his feet, rocked herself back and forth there. “Do you suppose I'll let + my 'word' keep me from struggling for a little happiness for my children? + It won't, I tell you; it won't! I'll struggle for that till I die! I will, + till I die till I die!” + </p> + <p> + He rubbed his head now instead of his knees, and, shaking all over, he got + up and began with uncertain steps to pace the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Hell, hell, hell!” he said. “I've got to go through THAT again!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have!” she sobbed. “Till I die.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that's what you been after all the time I was getting well.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have, and I'll keep on till I die!” + </p> + <p> + “A fine wife for a man,” he said. “Beggin' a man to be a dirty dog!” + </p> + <p> + “No! To be a MAN—and I'll keep on till I die!” + </p> + <p> + Adams again fell back upon his last solace: he walked, half staggering, up + and down the room, swearing in a rhythmic repetition. + </p> + <p> + His wife had repetitions of her own, and she kept at them in a voice that + rose to a higher and higher pitch, like the sound of an old well-pump. + “Till I die! Till I die! Till I DIE!” + </p> + <p> + She ended in a scream; and Alice, coming up the stairs, thanked heaven + that Russell had gone. She ran to her father's door and went in. + </p> + <p> + Adams looked at her, and gesticulated shakily at the convulsive figure on + the floor. “Can you get her out of here?” + </p> + <p> + Alice helped Mrs. Adams to her feet; and the stricken woman threw her arms + passionately about her daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Get her out!” Adams said, harshly; then cried, “Wait!” + </p> + <p> + Alice, moving toward the door, halted, and looked at him blankly, over her + mother's shoulder. “What is it, papa?” + </p> + <p> + He stretched out his arm and pointed at her. “She says—she says you + have a mean life, Alice.” + </p> + <p> + “No, papa.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams turned in her daughter's arms. “Do you hear her lie? Couldn't + you be as brave as she is, Virgil?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you lying, Alice?” he asked. “Do you have a mean time?” + </p> + <p> + “No, papa.” + </p> + <p> + He came toward her. “Look at me!” he said. “Things like this dance now—is + that so hard to bear?” + </p> + <p> + Alice tried to say, “No, papa,” again, but she couldn't. Suddenly and in + spite of herself she began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear her?” his wife sobbed. “Now do you——” + </p> + <p> + He waved at them fiercely. “Get out of here!” he said. “Both of you! Get + out of here!” + </p> + <p> + As they went, he dropped in his chair and bent far forward, so that his + haggard face was concealed from them. Then, as Alice closed the door, he + began to rub his knees again, muttering, “Oh, my, my! OH, my, my!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + There shone a jovial sun overhead on the appointed “day after to-morrow”; + a day not cool yet of a temperature friendly to walkers; and the air, + powdered with sunshine, had so much life in it that it seemed to sparkle. + To Arthur Russell this was a day like a gay companion who pleased him + well; but the gay companion at his side pleased him even better. She + looked her prettiest, chattered her wittiest, smiled her wistfulest, and + delighted him with all together. + </p> + <p> + “You look so happy it's easy to see your father's taken a good turn,” he + told her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he has this afternoon, at least,” she said. “I might have other + reasons for looking cheerful, though.” + </p> + <p> + “For instance?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” she said, giving him a sweet look just enough mocked by her + laughter. “For instance!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go on,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it expected?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of you, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she returned. “For you, I mean!” + </p> + <p> + In this style, which uses a word for any meaning that quick look and + colourful gesture care to endow it with, she was an expert; and she + carried it merrily on, leaving him at liberty (one of the great values of + the style) to choose as he would how much or how little she meant. He was + content to supply mere cues, for although he had little coquetry of his + own, he had lately begun to find that the only interesting moments in his + life were those during which Alice Adams coquetted with him. Happily, + these obliging moments extended themselves to cover all the time he spent + with her. However serious she might seem, whatever appeared to be her + topic, all was thou-and-I. + </p> + <p> + He planned for more of it, seeing otherwise a dull evening ahead; and + reverted, afterwhile, to a forbidden subject. “About that dance at Miss + Lamb's—since your father's so much better——” + </p> + <p> + She flushed a little. “Now, now!” she chided him. “We agreed not to say + any more about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but since he IS better——” + </p> + <p> + Alice shook her head. “He won't be better to-morrow. He always has a bad + day after a good one especially after such a good one as this is.” + </p> + <p> + “But if this time it should be different,” Russell persisted; “wouldn't + you be willing to come if he's better by to-morrow evening? Why not wait + and decide at the last minute?” + </p> + <p> + She waved her hands airily. “What a pother!” she cried. “What does it + matter whether poor little Alice Adams goes to a dance or not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I thought I'd made it clear that it looks fairly bleak to me if you + don't go.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” she jeered. + </p> + <p> + “It's the simple truth,” he insisted. “I don't care a great deal about + dances these days; and if you aren't going to be there——” + </p> + <p> + “You could stay away,” she suggested. “You wouldn't!” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, I can't. I'm afraid I'm supposed to be the excuse. Miss + Lamb, in her capacity as a friend of my relatives——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she's giving it for YOU! I see! On Mildred's account you mean?” + </p> + <p> + At that his face showed an increase of colour. “I suppose just on account + of my being a cousin of Mildred's and of——” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! You'll have a beautiful time, too. Henrietta'll see that you + have somebody to dance with besides Miss Dowling, poor man!” + </p> + <p> + “But what I want somebody to see is that I dance with you! And perhaps + your father——” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” she said, frowning as if she debated whether or not to tell him + something of import; then, seeming to decide affirmatively, she asked: + “Would you really like to know the truth about it?” + </p> + <p> + “If it isn't too unflattering.” + </p> + <p> + “It hasn't anything to do with you at all,” she said. “Of course I'd like + to go with you and to dance with you—though you don't seem to + realize that you wouldn't be permitted much time with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I——” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind!” she laughed. “Of course you wouldn't. But even if papa + should be better to-morrow, I doubt if I'd go. In fact, I know I wouldn't. + There's another reason besides papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The truth is, I don't get on with Henrietta Lamb. As a matter of + fact, I dislike her, and of course that means she dislikes me. I should + never think of asking her to anything I gave, and I really wonder she asks + me to things SHE gives.” This was a new inspiration; and Alice, beginning + to see her way out of a perplexity, wished that she had thought of it + earlier: she should have told him from the first that she and Henrietta + had a feud, and consequently exchanged no invitations. Moreover, there was + another thing to beset her with little anxieties: she might better not + have told him from the first, as she had indeed told him by intimation, + that she was the pampered daughter of an indulgent father, presumably able + to indulge her; for now she must elaborately keep to the part. Veracity is + usually simple; and its opposite, to be successful, should be as simple; + but practitioners of the opposite are most often impulsive, like Alice; + and, like her, they become enmeshed in elaborations. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't be very nice for me to go to her house,” Alice went on, “when + I wouldn't want her in mine. I've never admired her. I've always thought + she was lacking in some things most people are supposed to be equipped + with—for instance, a certain feeling about the death of a father who + was always pretty decent to his daughter. Henrietta's father died just, + eleven months and twenty-seven days before your cousin's dance, but she + couldn't stick out those few last days and make it a year; she was there.” + </p> + <p> + Alice stopped, then laughed ruefully, exclaiming, “But this is dreadful of + me!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Blackguarding her to you when she's giving a big party for you! Just the + way Henrietta would blackguard me to you—heaven knows what she + WOULDN'T say if she talked about me to you! It would be fair, of course, + but—well, I'd rather she didn't!” And with that, Alice let her + pretty hand, in its white glove, rest upon his arm for a moment; and he + looked down at it, not unmoved to see it there. “I want to be unfair about + just this,” she said, letting a troubled laughter tremble through her + appealing voice as she spoke. “I won't take advantage of her with anybody, + except just—you! I'd a little rather you didn't hear anybody + blackguard me, and, if you don't mind—could you promise not to give + Henrietta the chance?” + </p> + <p> + It was charmingly done, with a humorous, faint pathos altogether genuine; + and Russell found himself suddenly wanting to shout at her, “Oh, you + DEAR!” Nothing else seemed adequate; but he controlled the impulse in + favour of something more conservative. + </p> + <p> + “Imagine any one speaking unkindly of you—not praising you!” + </p> + <p> + “Who HAS praised me to you?” she asked, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't talked about you with any one; but if I did, I know they'd——” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” she cried, and went on, again accompanying her words with little + tremulous runs of laughter. “You don't understand this town yet. You'll be + surprised when you do; we're different. We talk about one another + fearfully! Haven't I just proved it, the way I've been going for + Henrietta? Of course I didn't say anything really very terrible about her, + but that's only because I don't follow that practice the way most of the + others do. They don't stop with the worst of the truth they can find: they + make UP things—yes, they really do! And, oh, I'd RATHER they didn't + make up things about me—to you!” + </p> + <p> + “What difference would it make if they did?” he inquired, cheerfully. “I'd + know they weren't true.” + </p> + <p> + “Even if you did know that, they'd make a difference,” she said. “Oh, yes, + they would! It's too bad, but we don't like anything quite so well that's + had specks on it, even if we've wiped the specks off;—it's just that + much spoiled, and some things are all spoiled the instant they're the + least bit spoiled. What a man thinks about a girl, for instance. Do you + want to have what you think about me spoiled, Mr. Russell?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but that's already far beyond reach,” he said, lightly. + </p> + <p> + “But it can't be!” she protested. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it never can be. Men don't change their minds about one another + often: they make it quite an event when they do, and talk about it as if + something important had happened. But a girl only has to go down-town with + a shoe-string unfastened, and every man who sees her will change his mind + about her. Don't you know that's true?” + </p> + <p> + “Not of myself, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” she cried. “That's precisely what every man in the world would + say!” + </p> + <p> + “So you wouldn't trust me?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—I'll be awfully worried if you give 'em a chance to tell you + that I'm too lazy to tie my shoe-strings!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed delightedly. “Is that what they do say?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Just about! Whatever they hope will get results.” She shook her head + wisely. “Oh, yes; we do that here!” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't mind loose shoe-strings,” he said. “Not if they're yours.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll find out what you do mind.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose,” he said, looking at her whimsically; “suppose I wouldn't + mind anything—so long as it's yours?” + </p> + <p> + She courtesied. “Oh, pretty enough! But a girl who's talked about has a + weakness that's often a fatal one.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's this: when she's talked about she isn't THERE. That's how they kill + her.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I don't follow you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see? If Henrietta—or Mildred—or any of 'em—or + some of their mothers—oh, we ALL do it! Well, if any of 'em told you + I didn't tie my shoe-strings, and if I were there, so that you could see + me, you'd know it wasn't true. Even if I were sitting so that you couldn't + see my feet, and couldn't tell whether the strings were tied or not just + then, still you could look at me, and see that I wasn't the sort of girl + to neglect my shoe-strings. But that isn't the way it happens: they'll get + at you when I'm nowhere around and can't remind you of the sort of girl I + really am.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't do that,” he complained. “You don't remind me you don't + even tell me—the sort of girl you really are! I'd like to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's be serious then,” she said, and looked serious enough herself. + “Would you honestly like to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you must be careful.” + </p> + <p> + “'Careful?'” The word amused him. + </p> + <p> + “I mean careful not to get me mixed up,” she said. “Careful not to mix up + the girl you might hear somebody talking about with the me I honestly try + to make you see. If you do get those two mixed up—well, the whole + show'll be spoiled!” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it's——” She checked herself, having begun to speak + too impulsively; and she was disturbed, realizing in what tricky stuff she + dealt. What had been on her lips to say was, “Because it's happened + before!” She changed to, “Because it's so easy to spoil anything—easiest + of all to spoil anything that's pleasant.” + </p> + <p> + “That might depend.” + </p> + <p> + “No; it's so. And if you care at all about—about knowing a girl + who'd like someone to know her——” + </p> + <p> + “Just 'someone?' That's disappointing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how 'careful' you want me to be, then!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't you think it would be nice if you didn't give anybody the + chance to talk about me the way—the way I've just been talking about + Henrietta Lamb?” + </p> + <p> + With that they laughed together, and he said, “You may be cutting me off + from a great deal of information, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Alice admitted. “Somebody might begin to praise me to you, too; so + it's dangerous to ask you to change the subject if I ever happen to be + mentioned. But after all——” She paused. + </p> + <p> + “'After all' isn't the end of a thought, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes it is of a girl's thought; I suppose men are neater about their + thoughts, and always finish 'em. It isn't the end of the thought I had + then, though.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the end of it?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him impulsively. “Oh, it's foolish,” she said, and she + laughed as laughs one who proposes something probably impossible. “But, + WOULDN'T it be pleasant if two people could ever just keep themselves TO + themselves, so far as they two were concerned? I mean, if they could just + manage to be friends without people talking about it, or talking to THEM + about it?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that might be rather difficult,” he said, more amused than + impressed by her idea. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know: it might be done,” she returned, hopefully. “Especially in + a town of this size; it's grown so it's quite a huge place these days. + People can keep themselves to themselves in a big place better, you know. + For instance, nobody knows that you and I are taking a walk together + today.” + </p> + <p> + “How absurd, when here we are on exhibition!” + </p> + <p> + “No; we aren't.” + </p> + <p> + “We aren't?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it!” she laughed. “We were the other day, when you walked + home with me, but anybody could tell that had just happened by chance, on + account of your overtaking me; people can always see things like that. But + we're not on exhibition now. Look where I've led you!” + </p> + <p> + Amused and a little bewildered, he looked up and down the street, which + was one of gaunt-faced apartment-houses, old, sooty, frame + boarding-houses, small groceries and drug-stores, laundries and one-room + plumbers' shops, with the sign of a clairvoyant here and there. + </p> + <p> + “You see?” she said. “I've been leading you without your knowing it. Of + course that's because you're new to the town, and you give yourself up to + the guidance of an old citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so sure, Miss Adams. It might mean that I don't care where I + follow so long as I follow you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she said. “I'd like you to keep on following me at least long + enough for me to show you that there's something nicer ahead of us than + this dingy street.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that figurative?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Might be!” she returned, gaily. “There's a pretty little park at the end, + but it's very proletarian, and nobody you and I know will be more likely + to see us there than on this street.” + </p> + <p> + “What an imagination you have!” he exclaimed. “You turn our proper little + walk into a Parisian adventure.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in what seemed to be a momentary grave puzzlement. + “Perhaps you feel that a Parisian adventure mightn't please your—your + relatives?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” he returned. “You seem to think of them oftener than I do.” + </p> + <p> + This appeared to amuse Alice, or at least to please her, for she laughed. + “Then I can afford to quit thinking of them, I suppose. It's only that I + used to be quite a friend of Mildred's—but there! we needn't to go + into that. I've never been a friend of Henrietta Lamb's, though, and I + almost wish she weren't taking such pains to be a friend of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but she's not. It's all on account of——” + </p> + <p> + “On Mildred's account,” Alice finished this for him, coolly. “Yes, of + course.” + </p> + <p> + “It's on account of the two families,” he was at pains to explain, a + little awkwardly. “It's because I'm a relative of the Palmers, and the + Palmers and the Lambs seem to be old family friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Something the Adamses certainly are not,” Alice said. “Not with either of + 'em; particularly not with the Lambs!” And here, scarce aware of what + impelled her, she returned to her former elaborations and colourings. “You + see, the differences between Henrietta and me aren't entirely personal: I + couldn't go to her house even if I liked her. The Lambs and Adamses don't + get on with each other, and we've just about come to the breaking-point as + it happens.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it's nothing to bother you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? A lot of things bother me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry they do,” he said, and seemed simply to mean it. + </p> + <p> + She nodded gratefully. “That's nice of you, Mr. Russell. It helps. The + break between the Adamses and the Lambs is a pretty bothersome thing. It's + been coming on a long time.” She sighed deeply, and the sigh was half + genuine; this half being for her father, but the other half probably + belonged to her instinctive rendering of Juliet Capulet, daughter to a + warring house. “I hate it all so!” she added. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you must.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose most quarrels between families are on account of business,” she + said. “That's why they're so sordid. Certainly the Lambs seem a sordid lot + to me, though of course I'm biased.” And with that she began to sketch a + history of the commercial antagonism that had risen between the Adamses + and the Lambs. + </p> + <p> + The sketching was spontaneous and dramatic. Mathematics had no part in it; + nor was there accurate definition of Mr. Adams's relation to the + institution of Lamb and Company. The point was clouded, in fact; though + that might easily be set down to the general haziness of young ladies + confronted with the mysteries of trade or commerce. Mr. Adams either had + been a vague sort of junior member of the firm, it appeared, or else he + should have been made some such thing; at all events, he was an old + mainstay of the business; and he, as much as any Lamb, had helped to build + up the prosperity of the company. But at last, tired of providing so much + intelligence and energy for which other people took profit greater than + his own, he had decided to leave the company and found a business entirely + for himself. The Lambs were going to be enraged when they learned what was + afoot. + </p> + <p> + Such was the impression, a little misted, wrought by Alice's quick + narrative. But there was dolorous fact behind it: Adams had succumbed. + </p> + <p> + His wife, grave and nervous, rather than triumphant, in success, had told + their daughter that the great J. A. would be furious and possibly + vindictive. Adams was afraid of him, she said. + </p> + <p> + “But what for, mama?” Alice asked, since this seemed a turn of affairs out + of reason. “What in the world has Mr. Lamb to do with papa's leaving the + company to set up for himself? What right has he to be angry about it? If + he's such a friend as he claims to be, I should think he'd be glad—that + is, if the glue factory turns out well. What will he be angry for?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams gave Alice an uneasy glance, hesitated, and then explained that + a resignation from Lamb's had always been looked upon, especially by “that + old man,” as treachery. You were supposed to die in the service, she said + bitterly, and her daughter, a little mystified, accepted this explanation. + Adams had not spoken to her of his surrender; he seemed not inclined to + speak to her at all, or to any one. + </p> + <p> + Alice was not serious too long, and she began to laugh as she came to the + end of her decorative sketch. “After all, the whole thing is perfectly + ridiculous,” she said. “In fact, it's FUNNY! That's on account of what + papa's going to throw over the Lamb business FOR! To save your life you + couldn't imagine what he's going to do!” + </p> + <p> + “I won't try, then,” Russell assented. + </p> + <p> + “It takes all the romance out of ME,” she laughed. “You'll never go for a + Parisian walk with me again, after I tell you what I'll be heiress to.” + They had come to the entrance of the little park; and, as Alice had said, + it was a pretty place, especially on a day so radiant. Trees of the oldest + forest stood there, hale and serene over the trim, bright grass; and the + proletarians had not come from their factories at this hour; only a few + mothers and their babies were to be seen, here and there, in the shade. “I + think I'll postpone telling you about it till we get nearly home again,” + Alice said, as they began to saunter down one of the gravelled paths. + “There's a bench beside a spring farther on; we can sit there and talk + about a lot of things—things not so sticky as my dowry's going to + be.” + </p> + <p> + “'Sticky?'” he echoed. “What in the world——” She laughed + despairingly. + </p> + <p> + “A glue factory!” + </p> + <p> + Then he laughed, too, as much from friendliness as from amusement; and she + remembered to tell him that the project of a glue factory was still “an + Adams secret.” It would be known soon, however, she added; and the whole + Lamb connection would probably begin saying all sorts of things, heaven + knew what! + </p> + <p> + Thus Alice built her walls of flimsy, working always gaily, or with at + least the air of gaiety; and even as she rattled on, there was somewhere + in her mind a constant little wonder. Everything she said seemed to be + necessary to support something else she had said. How had it happened? She + found herself telling him that since her father had decided on making so + great a change in his ways, she and her mother hoped at last to persuade + him to give up that “foolish little house” he had been so obstinate about; + and she checked herself abruptly on this declivity just as she was about + to slide into a remark concerning her own preference for a “country + place.” Discretion caught her in time; and something else, in company with + discretion, caught her, for she stopped short in her talk and blushed. + </p> + <p> + They had taken possession of the bench beside the spring, by this time; + and Russell, his elbow on the back of the bench and his chin on his hand, + the better to look at her, had no guess at the cause of the blush, but was + content to find it lovely. At his first sight of Alice she had seemed + pretty in the particular way of being pretty that he happened to like + best; and, with every moment he spent with her, this prettiness appeared + to increase. He felt that he could not look at her enough: his gaze + followed the fluttering of the graceful hands in almost continual gesture + as she talked; then lifted happily to the vivacious face again. She + charmed him. + </p> + <p> + After her abrupt pause, she sighed, then looked at him with her eyebrows + lifted in a comedy appeal. “You haven't said you wouldn't give Henrietta + the chance,” she said, in the softest voice that can still have a little + laugh running in it. + </p> + <p> + He was puzzled. “Give Henrietta the chance?” + </p> + <p> + “YOU know! You'll let me keep on being unfair, won't you? Not give the + other girls a chance to get even?” + </p> + <p> + He promised, heartily. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Alice had said that no one who knew either Russell or herself would be + likely to see them in the park or upon the dingy street; but although they + returned by that same ungenteel thoroughfare they were seen by a person + who knew them both. Also, with some surprise on the part of Russell, and + something more poignant than surprise for Alice, they saw this person. + </p> + <p> + All of the dingy street was ugly, but the greater part of it appeared to + be honest. The two pedestrians came upon a block or two, however, where it + offered suggestions of a less upright character, like a steady enough + workingman with a naughty book sticking out of his pocket. Three or four + dim shops, a single story in height, exhibited foul signboards, yet fair + enough so far as the wording went; one proclaiming a tobacconist, one a + junk-dealer, one a dispenser of “soft drinks and cigars.” The most + credulous would have doubted these signboards; for the craft of the modern + tradesman is exerted to lure indoors the passing glance, since if the + glance is pleased the feet may follow; but this alleged tobacconist and + his neighbours had long been fond of dust on their windows, evidently, and + shades were pulled far down on the glass of their doors. Thus the public + eye, small of pupil in the light of the open street, was intentionally not + invited to the dusky interiors. Something different from mere lack of + enterprise was apparent; and the signboards might have been omitted; they + were pains thrown away, since it was plain to the world that the business + parts of these shops were the brighter back rooms implied by the dark + front rooms; and that the commerce there was in perilous new liquors and + in dice and rough girls. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could have been more innocent than the serenity with which these + wicked little places revealed themselves for what they were; and, bound by + this final tie of guilelessness, they stood together in a row which ended + with a companionable barbershop, much like them. Beyond was a series of + soot-harried frame two-story houses, once part of a cheerful neighbourhood + when the town was middle-aged and settled, and not old and growing. These + houses, all carrying the label. “Rooms,” had the worried look of vacancy + that houses have when they are too full of everybody without being + anybody's home; and there was, too, a surreptitious air about them, as if, + like the false little shops, they advertised something by concealing it. + </p> + <p> + One of them—the one next to the barber-shop—had across its + front an ample, jig-sawed veranda, where aforetime, no doubt, the father + of a family had fanned himself with a palm-leaf fan on Sunday afternoons, + watching the surreys go by, and where his daughter listened to mandolins + and badinage on starlit evenings; but, although youth still held the + veranda, both the youth and the veranda were in decay. The four or five + young men who lounged there this afternoon were of a type known to shady + pool-parlours. Hats found no favour with them; all of them wore caps; and + their tight clothes, apparently from a common source, showed a vivacious + fancy for oblique pockets, false belts, and Easter-egg colourings. Another + thing common to the group was the expression of eye and mouth; and Alice, + in the midst of her other thoughts, had a distasteful thought about this. + </p> + <p> + The veranda was within a dozen feet of the sidewalk, and as she and her + escort came nearer, she took note of the young men, her face hardening a + little, even before she suspected there might be a resemblance between + them and any one she knew. Then she observed that each of these loungers + wore not for the occasion, but as of habit, a look of furtively amused + contempt; the mouth smiled to one side as if not to dislodge a cigarette, + while the eyes kept languidly superior. All at once Alice was reminded of + Walter; and the slight frown caused by this idea had just begun to darken + her forehead when Walter himself stepped out of the open door of the house + and appeared upon the veranda. Upon his head was a new straw hat, and in + his hand was a Malacca stick with an ivory top, for Alice had finally + decided against it for herself and had given it to him. His mood was + lively: he twirled the stick through his fingers like a drum-major's + baton, and whistled loudly. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, he was indeed accompanied. With him was a thin girl who had made + a violent black-and-white poster of herself: black dress, black flimsy + boa, black stockings, white slippers, great black hat down upon the black + eyes; and beneath the hat a curve of cheek and chin made white as + whitewash, and in strong bilateral motion with gum. + </p> + <p> + The loungers on the veranda were familiars of the pair; hailed them with + cacklings; and one began to sing, in a voice all tin: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Then my skirt, Sal, and me did go + Right straight to the moving-pitcher show. + OH, you bashful vamp!” + </pre> + <p> + The girl laughed airily. “God, but you guys are wise!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Wallie.” + </p> + <p> + Walter stared at his sister; then grinned faintly, and nodded at Russell + as the latter lifted his hat in salutation. Alice uttered an incoherent + syllable of exclamation, and, as she began to walk faster, she bit her lip + hard, not in order to look wistful, this time, but to help her keep tears + of anger from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Russell laughed cheerfully. “Your brother certainly seems to have found + the place for 'colour' today,” he said. “That girl's talk must be full of + it.” + </p> + <p> + But Alice had forgotten the colour she herself had used in accounting for + Walter's peculiarities, and she did not understand. “What?” she said, + huskily. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember telling me about him? How he was going to write, + probably, and would go anywhere to pick up types and get them to talk?” + </p> + <p> + She kept her eyes ahead, and said sharply, “I think his literary tastes + scarcely cover this case!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be too sure. He didn't look at all disconcerted. He didn't seem to + mind your seeing him.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all the worse, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” her friend said, genially. “It means he didn't consider that he + was engaged in anything out of the way. You can't expect to understand + everything boys do at his age; they do all sorts of queer things, and + outgrow them. Your brother evidently has a taste for queer people, and + very likely he's been at least half sincere when he's made you believe he + had a literary motive behind it. We all go through——” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Mr. Russell,” she interrupted. “Let's don't say any more.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her flushed face and enlarged eyes; and he liked her all the + better for her indignation: this was how good sisters ought to feel, he + thought, failing to understand that most of what she felt was not about + Walter. He ventured only a word more. “Try not to mind it so much; it + really doesn't amount to anything.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, and they went on in silence; she did not look at him + again until they stopped before her own house. Then she gave him only one + glimpse of her eyes before she looked down. “It's spoiled, isn't it?” she + said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “What's 'spoiled?'” + </p> + <p> + “Our walk—well, everything. Somehow it always—is.” + </p> + <p> + “'Always is' what?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Spoiled,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He laughed at that; but without looking at him she suddenly offered him + her hand, and, as he took it, he felt a hurried, violent pressure upon his + fingers, as if she meant to thank him almost passionately for being kind. + She was gone before he could speak to her again. + </p> + <p> + In her room, with the door locked, she did not go to her mirror, but to + her bed, flinging herself face down, not caring how far the pillows put + her hat awry. Sheer grief had followed her anger; grief for the calamitous + end of her bright afternoon, grief for the “end of everything,” as she + thought then. Nevertheless, she gradually grew more composed, and, when + her mother tapped on the door presently, let her in. Mrs. Adams looked at + her with quick apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, poor child! Wasn't he——” + </p> + <p> + Alice told her. “You see how it—how it made me look, mama,” she + quavered, having concluded her narrative. “I'd tried to cover up Walter's + awfulness at the dance with that story about his being 'literary,' but no + story was big enough to cover this up—and oh! it must make him think + I tell stories about other things!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” Mrs. Adams protested. “Don't you see? At the worst, all HE + could think is that Walter told stories to you about why he likes to be + with such dreadful people, and you believed them. That's all HE'D think; + don't you see?” + </p> + <p> + Alice's wet eyes began to show a little hopefulness. “You honestly think + it might be that way, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, from what you've told me he said, I KNOW it's that way. Didn't he + say he wanted to come again?” + </p> + <p> + “N-no,” Alice said, uncertainly. “But I think he will. At least I begin to + think so now. He——” She stopped. + </p> + <p> + “From all you tell me, he seems to be a very desirable young man,” Mrs. + Adams said, primly. + </p> + <p> + Her daughter was silent for several moments; then new tears gathered upon + her downcast lashes. “He's just—dear!” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams nodded. “He's told you he isn't engaged, hasn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I know he isn't. Maybe when he first came here he was near it, + but I know he's not.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess Mildred Palmer would LIKE him to be, all right!” Mrs. Adams was + frank enough to say, rather triumphantly; and Alice, with a lowered head, + murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Anybody—would.” + </p> + <p> + The words were all but inaudible. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you worry,” her mother said, and patted her on the shoulder. + “Everything will come out all right; don't you fear, Alice. Can't you see + that beside any other girl in town you're just a perfect QUEEN? Do you + think any young man that wasn't prejudiced, or something, would need more + than just one look to——” + </p> + <p> + But Alice moved away from the caressing hand. “Never mind, mama. I wonder + he looks at me at all. And if he does again, after seeing my brother with + those horrible people——” + </p> + <p> + “Now, now!” Mrs. Adams interrupted, expostulating mournfully. “I'm sure + Walter's a GOOD boy——” + </p> + <p> + “You are?” Alice cried, with a sudden vigour. “You ARE?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure he's GOOD, yes—and if he isn't, it's not his fault. It's + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's true,” Mrs. Adams lamented. “I tried to bring him up to be good, + God knows; and when he was little he was the best boy I ever saw. When he + came from Sunday-school he'd always run to me and we'd go over the lesson + together; and he let me come in his room at night to hear his prayers + almost until he was sixteen. Most boys won't do that with their mothers—not + nearly that long. I tried so hard to bring him up right—but if + anything's gone wrong it's my fault.” + </p> + <p> + “How could it be? You've just said——” + </p> + <p> + “It's because I didn't make your father this—this new step earlier. + Then Walter might have had all the advantages that other——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mama, PLEASE!” Alice begged her. “Let's don't go over all that again. + Isn't it more important to think what's to be done about him? Is he going + to be allowed to go on disgracing us as he does?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams sighed profoundly. “I don't know what to do,” she confessed, + unhappily. “Your father's so upset about—about this new step he's + taking—I don't feel as if we ought to——” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” Alice cried. “Papa mustn't be distressed with this, on top of + everything else. But SOMETHING'S got to be done about Walter.” + </p> + <p> + “What can be?” her mother asked, helplessly. “What can be?” + </p> + <p> + Alice admitted that she didn't know. + </p> + <p> + At dinner, an hour later, Walter's habitually veiled glance lifted, now + and then, to touch her furtively;—he was waiting, as he would have + said, for her to “spring it”; and he had prepared a brief and sincere + defense to the effect that he made his own living, and would like to + inquire whose business it was to offer intrusive comment upon his private + conduct. But she said nothing, while his father and mother were as silent + as she. Walter concluded that there was to be no attack, but changed his + mind when his father, who ate only a little, and broodingly at that, rose + to leave the table and spoke to him. + </p> + <p> + “Walter,” he said, “when you've finished I wish you'd come up to my room. + I got something I want to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + Walter shot a hard look at his apathetic sister, then turned to his + father. “Make it to-morrow,” he said. “This is Satad'y night and I got a + date.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Adams said, frowning. “You come up before you go out. It's + important.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; I've had all I want to eat,” Walter returned. “I got a few + minutes. Make it quick.” + </p> + <p> + He followed his father upstairs, and when they were in the room together + Adams shut the door, sat down, and began to rub his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Rheumatism?” the boy inquired, slyly. “That what you want to talk to me + about?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” But Adams did not go on; he seemed to be in difficulties for words, + and Walter decided to help him. + </p> + <p> + “Hop ahead and spring it,” he said. “Get it off your mind: I'll tell the + world <i>I</i> should worry! You aren't goin' to bother ME any, so why + bother yourself? Alice hopped home and told you she saw me playin' around + with some pretty gay-lookin' berries and you——” + </p> + <p> + “Alice?” his father said, obviously surprised. “It's nothing about Alice.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't she tell you——” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't talked with her all day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see,” Walter said. “She told mother and mother told you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, neither of 'em have told me anything. What was there to tell?” + </p> + <p> + Walter laughed. “Oh, it's nothin',” he said. “I was just startin' out to + buy a girl friend o' mine a rhinestone buckle I lost to her on a bet, this + afternoon, and Alice came along with that big Russell fish; and I thought + she looked sore. She expects me to like the kind she likes, and I don't + like 'em. I thought she'd prob'ly got you all stirred up about it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” his father said, peevishly. “I don't know anything about it, and + I don't care to know anything about it. I want to talk to you about + something important.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as he was again silent, Walter said, “Well, TALK about it; I'm + listening.” + </p> + <p> + “It's this,” Adams began, heavily. “It's about me going into this glue + business. Your mother's told you, hasn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “She said you were goin' to leave the old place down-town and start a glue + factory. That's all I know about it; I got my own affairs to 'tend to.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is your affair,” his father said, frowning. “You can't stay + with Lamb and Company.” + </p> + <p> + Walter looked a little startled. “What you mean, I can't? Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “You've got to help me,” Adams explained slowly; and he frowned more + deeply, as if the interview were growing increasingly laborious for him. + “It's going to be a big pull to get this business on its feet.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” Walter exclaimed with a sharp skepticism. “I should say it was!” He + stared at his father incredulously. “Look here; aren't you just a little + bit sudden, the way you're goin' about things? You've let mother shove you + a little too fast, haven't you? Do you know anything about what it means + to set up a new business these days?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know all about it,” Adams said. “About this business, I do.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I made a long study of it. I'm not afraid of going about it the + wrong way; but it's a hard job and you'll have to put in all whatever + sense and strength you've got.” + </p> + <p> + Walter began to breathe quickly, and his lips were agitated; then he set + them obstinately. “Oh; I will,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will,” Adams returned, not noticing that his son's inflection + was satiric. “It's going to take every bit of energy in your body, and all + the energy I got left in mine, and every cent of the little I've saved, + besides something I'll have to raise on this house. I'm going right at it, + now I've got to; and you'll have to quit Lamb's by the end of next week.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I will?” Walter's voice grew louder, and there was a shrillness in + it. “I got to quit Lamb's the end of next week, have I?” He stepped + forward, angrily. “Listen!” he said. “I'm not walkin' out o' Lamb's, see? + I'm not quittin' down there: I stay with 'em, see?” + </p> + <p> + Adams looked up at him, astonished. “You'll leave there next Saturday,” he + said. “I've got to have you.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't anything o' the kind,” Walter told him, sharply. “Do you expect + to pay me anything?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd pay you about what you been getting down there.” + </p> + <p> + “Then pay somebody else; <i>I</i> don't know anything about glue. You get + somebody else.” + </p> + <p> + “No. You've got to—-” + </p> + <p> + Walter cut him off with the utmost vehemence. “Don't tell me what I got to + do! I know what I got to do better'n you, I guess! I stay at Lamb's, see?” + </p> + <p> + Adams rose angrily. “You'll do what I tell you. You can't stay down + there.” + </p> + <p> + “Why can't I?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I won't let you.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen! Keep on not lettin' me: I'll be there just the same.” + </p> + <p> + At that his father broke into a sour laughter. “THEY won't let you, + Walter! They won't have you down there after they find out I'm going.” + </p> + <p> + “Why won't they? You don't think they're goin' to be all shot to pieces + over losin' YOU, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you they won't let you stay,” his father insisted, loudly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do they care whether you go or not?” + </p> + <p> + “They'll care enough to fire YOU, my boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, then; show me why.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll do it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Walter jeered; “you keep sayin' they will, but when I ask you to + show me why, you keep sayin' they will! That makes little headway with ME, + I can tell you!” + </p> + <p> + Adams groaned, and, rubbing his head, began to pace the floor. Walter's + refusal was something he had not anticipated; and he felt the weakness of + his own attempt to meet it: he seemed powerless to do anything but utter + angry words, which, as Walter said, made little headway. “Oh, my, my!” he + muttered, “OH, my, my!” + </p> + <p> + Walter, usually sallow, had grown pale: he watched his father narrowly, + and now took a sudden resolution. “Look here,” he said. “When you say + Lamb's is likely to fire me because you're goin' to quit, you talk like + the people that have to be locked up. I don't know where you get such + things in your head; Lamb and Company won't know you're gone. Listen: I + can stay there long as I want to. But I'll tell you what I'll do: make it + worth my while and I'll hook up with your old glue factory, after all.” + </p> + <p> + Adams stopped his pacing abruptly, and stared at him. “'Make it worth your + while?' What you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I got a good use for three hundred dollars right now,” Walter said. “Let + me have it and I'll quit Lamb's to work for you. Don't let me have it and + I SWEAR I won't!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you crazy?” + </p> + <p> + “Is everybody crazy that needs three hundred dollars?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Adams said. “They are if they ask ME for it, when I got to stretch + every cent I can lay my hands on to make it look like a dollar!” + </p> + <p> + “You won't do it?” + </p> + <p> + Adams burst out at him. “You little fool! If I had three hundred dollars + to throw away, besides the pay I expected to give you, haven't you got + sense enough to see I could hire a man worth three hundred dollars more to + me than you'd be? It's a FINE time to ask me for three hundred dollars, + isn't it! What FOR? Rhinestone buckles to throw around on your 'girl + friends?' Shame on you! Ask me to BRIBE you to help yourself and your own + family!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you a last chance,” Walter said. “Either you do what I want, or + I won't do what you want. Don't ask me again after this, because——” + </p> + <p> + Adams interrupted him fiercely. “'Ask you again!' Don't worry about that, + my boy! All I ask you is to get out o' my room.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” Walter said, quietly; and his lopsided smile distorted his + livid cheek. “Look here: I expect YOU wouldn't give me three hundred + dollars to save my life, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “You make me sick,” Adams said, in his bitterness. “Get out of here.” + </p> + <p> + Walter went out, whistling; and Adams drooped into his old chair again as + the door closed. “OH, my, my!” he groaned. “Oh, Lordy, Lordy! The way of + the transgressor——” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + He meant his own transgression and his own way; for Walter's stubborn + refusal appeared to Adams just then as one of the inexplicable but + righteous besettings he must encounter in following that way. “Oh, Lordy, + Lord!” he groaned, and then, as resentment moved him—“That dang boy! + Dang idiot!” Yet he knew himself for a greater idiot because he had not + been able to tell Walter the truth. He could not bring himself to do it, + nor even to state his case in its best terms; and that was because he felt + that even in its best terms the case was a bad one. + </p> + <p> + Of all his regrets the greatest was that in a moment of vanity and + tenderness, twenty-five years ago, he had told his young wife a business + secret. He had wanted to show how important her husband was becoming, and + how much the head of the universe, J. A. Lamb, trusted to his integrity + and ability. The great man had an idea: he thought of “branching out a + little,” he told Adams confidentially, and there were possibilities of + profit in glue. + </p> + <p> + What he wanted was a liquid glue to be put into little bottles and sold + cheaply. “The kind of thing that sells itself,” he said; “the kind of + thing that pays its own small way as it goes along, until it has profits + enough to begin advertising it right. Everybody has to use glue, and if I + make mine convenient and cheap, everybody'll buy mine. But it's got to be + glue that'll STICK; it's got to be the best; and if we find how to make it + we've got to keep it a big secret, of course, or anybody can steal it from + us. There was a man here last month; he knew a formula he wanted to sell + me, 'sight unseen'; but he was in such a hurry I got suspicious, and I + found he'd managed to steal it, working for the big packers in their + glue-works. We've got to find a better glue than that, anyhow. I'm going + to set you and Campbell at it. You're a practical, wide-awake young + feller, and Campbell's a mighty good chemist; I guess you two boys ought + to make something happen.” + </p> + <p> + His guess was shrewd enough. Working in a shed a little way outside the + town, where their cheery employer visited them sometimes to study their + malodorous stews, the two young men found what Lamb had set them to find. + But Campbell was thoughtful over the discovery. “Look here,” he said. “Why + ain't this just about yours and mine? After all, it may be Lamb's money + that's paid for the stuff we've used, but it hasn't cost much.” + </p> + <p> + “But he pays US,” Adams remonstrated, horrified by his companion's idea. + “He paid us to do it. It belongs absolutely to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know he THINKS it does,” Campbell admitted, plaintively. “I suppose + we've got to let him take it. It's not patentable, and he'll have to do + pretty well by us when he starts his factory, because he's got to depend + on us to run the making of the stuff so that the workmen can't get onto + the process. You better ask him the same salary I do, and mine's going to + be high.” + </p> + <p> + But the high salary, thus pleasantly imagined, was never paid. Campbell + died of typhoid fever, that summer, leaving Adams and his employer the + only possessors of the formula, an unwritten one; and Adams, pleased to + think himself more important to the great man than ever, told his wife + that there could be little doubt of his being put in sole charge of the + prospective glue-works. Unfortunately, the enterprise remained + prospective. + </p> + <p> + Its projector had already become “inveigled into another side-line,” as he + told Adams. One of his sons had persuaded him to take up a + “cough-lozenge,” to be called the “Jalamb Balm Trochee”; and the lozenge + did well enough to amuse Mr. Lamb and occupy his spare time, which was + really about all he had asked of the glue project. He had “all the MONEY + anybody ought to want,” he said, when Adams urged him; and he could “start + up this little glue side-line” at any time; the formula was safe in their + two heads. + </p> + <p> + At intervals Adams would seek opportunity to speak of “the little glue + side-line” to his patron, and to suggest that the years were passing; but + Lamb, petting other hobbies, had lost interest. “Oh, I'll start it up some + day, maybe. If I don't, I may turn it over to my heirs: it's always an + asset, worth something or other, of course. We'll probably take it up some + day, though, you and I.” + </p> + <p> + The sun persistently declined to rise on that day, and, as time went on, + Adams saw that his rather timid urgings bored his employer, and he ceased + to bring up the subject. Lamb apparently forgot all about glue, but Adams + discovered that unfortunately there was someone else who remembered it. + </p> + <p> + “It's really YOURS,” she argued, that painful day when for the first time + she suggested his using his knowledge for the benefit of himself and his + family. “Mr. Campbell might have had a right to part of it, but he died + and didn't leave any kin, so it belongs to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose J. A. Lamb hired me to saw some wood,” Adams said. “Would the + sticks belong to me?” + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't got any right to take your invention and bury it,” she + protested. “What good is it doing him if he doesn't DO anything with it? + What good is it doing ANYBODY? None in the world! And what harm would it + do him if you went ahead and did this for yourself and for your children? + None in the world! And what could he do to you if he WAS old pig enough to + get angry with you for doing it? He couldn't do a single thing, and you've + admitted he couldn't, yourself. So what's your reason for depriving your + children and your wife of the benefits you know you could give 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but decency,” he answered; and she had her reply ready for that. + It seemed to him that, strive as he would, he could not reach her mind + with even the plainest language; while everything that she said to him, + with such vehemence, sounded like so much obstinate gibberish. Over and + over he pressed her with the same illustration, on the point of ownership, + though he thought he was varying it. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he hired me to build him a house: would that be MY house?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't hire you to build him a house. You and Campbell invented——” + </p> + <p> + “Look here: suppose you give a cook a soup-bone and some vegetables, and + pay her to make you a soup: has she got a right to take and sell it? You + know better!” + </p> + <p> + “I know ONE thing: if that old man tried to keep your own invention from + you he's no better than a robber!” + </p> + <p> + They never found any point of contact in all their passionate discussions + of this ethical question; and the question was no more settled between + them, now that Adams had succumbed, than it had ever been. But at least + the wrangling about it was over: they were grave together, almost silent, + and an uneasiness prevailed with her as much as with him. + </p> + <p> + He had already been out of the house, to walk about the small green yard; + and on Monday afternoon he sent for a taxicab and went down-town, but kept + a long way from the “wholesale section,” where stood the formidable old + oblong pile of Lamb and Company. He arranged for the sale of the bonds he + had laid away, and for placing a mortgage upon his house; and on his way + home, after five o'clock, he went to see an old friend, a man whose term + of service with Lamb and Company was even a little longer than his own. + </p> + <p> + This veteran, returned from the day's work, was sitting in front of the + apartment house where he lived, but when the cab stopped at the curb he + rose and came forward, offering a jocular greeting. “Well, well, Virgil + Adams! I always thought you had a sporty streak in you. Travel in your own + hired private automobile nowadays, do you? Pamperin' yourself because + you're still layin' off sick, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm well enough again, Charley Lohr,” Adams said, as he got out and + shook hands. Then, telling the driver to wait, he took his friend's arm, + walked to the bench with him, and sat down. “I been practically well for + some time,” he said. “I'm fixin' to get into harness again.” + </p> + <p> + “Bein' sick has certainly produced a change of heart in you,” his friend + laughed. “You're the last man I ever expected to see blowin' yourself—or + anybody else to a taxicab! For that matter, I never heard of you bein' in + ANY kind of a cab, 'less'n it might be when you been pall-bearer for + somebody. What's come over you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I got to turn over a new leaf, and that's a fact,” Adams said. “I + got a lot to do, and the only way to accomplish it, it's got to be done + soon, or I won't have anything to live on while I'm doing it.” + </p> + <p> + “What you talkin' about? What you got to do except to get strong enough to + come back to the old place?” + </p> + <p> + “Well——” Adams paused, then coughed, and said slowly, “Fact + is, Charley Lohr, I been thinking likely I wouldn't come back.” + </p> + <p> + “What! What you talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Adams. “I been thinking I might likely kind of branch out on my + own account.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be doggoned!” Old Charley Lohr was amazed; he ruffled up his + gray moustache with thumb and forefinger, leaving his mouth open beneath, + like a dark cave under a tangled wintry thicket. “Why, that's the + doggonedest thing I ever heard!” he said. “I already am the oldest + inhabitant down there, but if you go, there won't be anybody else of the + old generation at all. What on earth you thinkin' of goin' into?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Adams, “I rather you didn't mention it till I get started of + course anybody'll know what it is by then—but I HAVE been kind of + planning to put a liquid glue on the market.” + </p> + <p> + His friend, still ruffling the gray moustache upward, stared at him in + frowning perplexity. “Glue?” he said. “GLUE!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I been sort of milling over the idea of taking up something like + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Handlin' it for some firm, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Making it. Sort of a glue-works likely.” + </p> + <p> + Lohr continued to frown. “Let me think,” he said. “Didn't the ole man have + some such idea once, himself?” + </p> + <p> + Adams leaned forward, rubbing his knees; and he coughed again before he + spoke. “Well, yes. Fact is, he did. That is to say, a mighty long while + ago he did.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember,” said Lohr. “He never said anything about it that I know of; + but seems to me I recollect we had sort of a rumour around the place how + you and that man—le's see, wasn't his name Campbell, that died of + typhoid fever? Yes, that was it, Campbell. Didn't the ole man have you and + Campbell workin' sort of private on some glue proposition or other?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he did.” Adams nodded. “I found out a good deal about glue then, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Been workin' on it since, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Kept it in my mind and studied out new things about it.” + </p> + <p> + Lohr looked serious. “Well, but see here,” he said. “I hope it ain't + anything the ole man'll think might infringe on whatever he had you doin' + for HIM. You know how he is: broad-minded, liberal, free-handed man as + walks this earth, and if he thought he owed you a cent he'd sell his right + hand for a pork-chop to pay it, if that was the only way; but if he got + the idea anybody was tryin' to get the better of him, he'd sell BOTH his + hands, if he had to, to keep 'em from doin' it. Yes, at eighty, he would! + Not that I mean I think you might be tryin' to get the better of him, + Virg. You're a mighty close ole codger, but such a thing ain't in you. + What I mean: I hope there ain't any chance for the ole man to THINK you + might be——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” Adams interrupted. “As a matter of fact, I don't believe he'll + ever think about it at all, and if he did he wouldn't have any real right + to feel offended at me: the process I'm going to use is one I expect to + change and improve a lot different from the one Campbell and I worked on + for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's good,” said Lohr. “Of course you know what you're up to: + you're old enough, God knows!” He laughed ruefully. “My, but it will seem + funny to me—down there with you gone! I expect you and I both been + gettin' to be pretty much dead-wood in the place, the way the young + fellows look at it, and the only one that'd miss either of us would be the + other one! Have you told the ole man yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Well——” Adams spoke laboriously. “No. No, I haven't. I + thought—well, that's what I wanted to see you about.” + </p> + <p> + “What can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I'd write him a letter and get you to hand it to him for me.” + </p> + <p> + “My soul!” his friend exclaimed. “Why on earth don't you just go down + there and tell him?” + </p> + <p> + Adams became pitiably embarrassed. He stammered, coughed, stammered again, + wrinkling his face so deeply he seemed about to weep; but finally he + contrived to utter an apologetic laugh. “I ought to do that, of course; + but in some way or other I just don't seem to be able to—to manage + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why in the world not?” the mystified Lohr inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I could hardly tell you—'less'n it is to say that when you been + with one boss all your life it's so—so kind of embarrassing—to + quit him, I just can't make up my mind to go and speak to him about it. + No; I got it in my head a letter's the only satisfactory way to do it, and + I thought I'd ask you to hand it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course I don't mind doin' that for you,” Lohr said, mildly. “But + why in the world don't you just mail it to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell you,” Adams returned. “You know, like that, it'd have to + go through a clerk and that secretary of his, and I don't know who all. + There's a couple of kind of delicate points I want to put in it: for + instance, I want to explain to him how much improvement and so on I'm + going to introduce on the old process I helped to work out with Campbell + when we were working for him, so't he'll understand it's a different + article and no infringement at all. Then there's another thing: you see + all during while I was sick he had my salary paid to me it amounts to + considerable, I was on my back so long. Under the circumstances, because + I'm quitting, I don't feel as if I ought to accept it, and so I'll have a + check for him in the letter to cover it, and I want to be sure he knows + it, and gets it personally. If it had to go through a lot of other people, + the way it would if I put it in the mail, why, you can't tell. So what I + thought: if you'd hand it to him for me, and maybe if he happened to read + it right then, or anything, it might be you'd notice whatever he'd happen + to say about it—and you could tell me afterward.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” Lohr said. “Certainly if you'd rather do it that way, I'll + hand it to him and tell you what he says; that is, if he says anything and + I hear him. Got it written?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I'll send it around to you last of the week.” Adams moved toward his + taxicab. “Don't say anything to anybody about it, Charley, especially till + after that.” + </p> + <p> + “All right.” + </p> + <p> + “And, Charley, I'll be mighty obliged to you,” Adams said, and came back + to shake hands in farewell. “There's one thing more you might do—if + you'd ever happen to feel like it.” He kept his eyes rather vaguely fixed + on a point above his friend's head as he spoke, and his voice was not well + controlled. “I been—I been down there a good many years and I may + not 'a' been so much use lately as I was at first, but I always tried to + do my best for the old firm. If anything turned out so's they DID kind of + take offense with me, down there, why, just say a good word for me—if + you'd happen to feel like it, maybe.” + </p> + <p> + Old Charley Lohr assured him that he would speak a good word if + opportunity became available; then, after the cab had driven away, he went + up to his small apartment on the third floor and muttered ruminatively + until his wife inquired what he was talking to himself about. + </p> + <p> + “Ole Virg Adams,” he told her. “He's out again after his long spell of + sickness, and the way it looks to me he'd better stayed in bed.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean he still looks too bad to be out?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I expect he's gettin' his HEALTH back,” Lohr said, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “Then what's the matter with him? You mean he's lost his mind?” + </p> + <p> + “My goodness, but women do jump at conclusions!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mrs. Lohr, “what other conclusion did you leave me to jump + at?” + </p> + <p> + Her husband explained with a little heat: “People can have a sickness that + AFFECTS their mind, can't they? Their mind can get some affected without + bein' LOST, can't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you mean the poor man's mind does seem affected?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no; I'd scarcely go as far as that,” Lohr said, inconsistently, and + declined to be more definite. + </p> + <p> + Adams devoted the latter part of that evening to the composition of his + letter—a disquieting task not completed when, at eleven o'clock, he + heard his daughter coming up the stairs. She was singing to herself in a + low, sweet voice, and Adams paused to listen incredulously, with his pen + lifted and his mouth open, as if he heard the strangest sound in the + world. Then he set down the pen upon a blotter, went to his door, and + opened it, looking out at her as she came. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dearie, you seem to be feeling pretty good,” he said. “What you + been doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Just sitting out on the front steps, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “All alone, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Mr. Russell called.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he did?” Adams pretended to be surprised. “What all could you and he + find to talk about till this hour o' the night?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed gaily. “You don't know me, papa!” + </p> + <p> + “How's that?” + </p> + <p> + “You've never found out that I always do all the talking.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you let him get a word in all evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; every now and then.” + </p> + <p> + Adams took her hand and petted it. “Well, what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + Alice gave him a radiant look and kissed him. “Not what you think!” she + laughed; then slapped his cheek with saucy affection, pirouetted across + the narrow hall and into her own room, and curtsied to him as she closed + her door. + </p> + <p> + Adams went back to his writing with a lighter heart; for since Alice was + born she had been to him the apple of his eye, his own phrase in thinking + of her; and what he was doing now was for her. + </p> + <p> + He smiled as he picked up his pen to begin a new draft of the painful + letter; but presently he looked puzzled. After all, she could be happy + just as things were, it seemed. Then why had he taken what his wife called + “this new step,” which he had so long resisted? + </p> + <p> + He could only sigh and wonder. “Life works out pretty peculiarly,” he + thought; for he couldn't go back now, though the reason he couldn't was + not clearly apparent. He had to go ahead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + He was out in his taxicab again the next morning, and by noon he had + secured what he wanted. + </p> + <p> + It was curiously significant that he worked so quickly. All the years + during which his wife had pressed him toward his present shift he had + sworn to himself, as well as to her, that he would never yield; and yet + when he did yield he had no plans to make, because he found them already + prepared and worked out in detail in his mind; as if he had long + contemplated the “step” he believed himself incapable of taking. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes he had thought of improving his income by exchanging his little + collection of bonds for a “small rental property,” if he could find “a + good buy”; and he had spent many of his spare hours rambling over the + enormously spreading city and its purlieus, looking for the ideal “buy.” + It remained unattainable, so far as he was concerned; but he found other + things. + </p> + <p> + Not twice a crow's mile from his own house there was a dismal and slummish + quarter, a decayed “industrial district” of earlier days. Most of the + industries were small; some of them died, perishing of bankruptcy or fire; + and a few had moved, leaving their shells. Of the relics, the best was a + brick building which had been the largest and most important factory in + the quarter: it had been injured by a long vacancy almost as serious as a + fire, in effect, and Adams had often guessed at the sum needed to put it + in repair. + </p> + <p> + When he passed it, he would look at it with an interest which he supposed + detached and idly speculative. “That'd be just the thing,” he thought. “If + a fellow had money enough, and took a notion to set up some new business + on a big scale, this would be a pretty good place—to make glue, for + instance, if that wasn't out of the question, of course. It would take a + lot of money, though; a great deal too much for me to expect to handle—even + if I'd ever dream of doing such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + Opposite the dismantled factory was a muddy, open lot of two acres or so, + and near the middle of the lot, a long brick shed stood in a desolate + abandonment, not happily decorated by old coatings of theatrical and + medicinal advertisements. But the brick shed had two wooden ells, and, + though both shed and ells were of a single story, here was empty space + enough for a modest enterprise—“space enough for almost anything, to + start with,” Adams thought, as he walked through the low buildings, one + day, when he was prospecting in that section. “Yes, I suppose I COULD + swing this,” he thought. “If the process belonged to me, say, instead of + being out of the question because it isn't my property—or if I was + the kind of man to do such a thing anyhow, here would be something I could + probably get hold of pretty cheap. They'd want a lot of money for a lease + on that big building over the way—but this, why, I should think it'd + be practically nothing at all.” + </p> + <p> + Then, by chance, meeting an agent he knew, he made inquiries—merely + to satisfy a casual curiosity, he thought—and he found matters much + as he had supposed, except that the owners of the big building did not + wish to let, but to sell it, and this at a price so exorbitant that Adams + laughed. But the long brick shed in the great muddy lot was for sale or to + let, or “pretty near to be given away,” he learned, if anybody would take + it. + </p> + <p> + Adams took it now, though without seeing that he had been destined to take + it, and that some dreary wizard in the back of his head had foreseen all + along that he would take it, and planned to be ready. He drove in his + taxicab to look the place over again, then down-town to arrange for a + lease; and came home to lunch with his wife and daughter. Things were + “moving,” he told them. + </p> + <p> + He boasted a little of having acted so decisively, and said that since the + dang thing had to be done, it was “going to be done RIGHT!” He was almost + cheerful, in a feverish way, and when the cab came for him again, soon + after lunch, he explained that he intended not only to get things done + right, but also to “get 'em done quick!” Alice, following him to the front + door, looked at him anxiously and asked if she couldn't help. He laughed + at her grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Then let me go along with you in the cab,” she begged. “You don't look + able to start in so hard, papa, just when you're barely beginning to get + your strength back. Do let me go with you and see if I can't help—or + at least take care of you if you should get to feeling badly.” + </p> + <p> + He declined, but upon pressure let her put a tiny bottle of spirits of + ammonia in his pocket, and promised to make use of it if he “felt faint or + anything.” Then he was off again; and the next morning had men at work in + his sheds, though the wages he had to pay frightened him. + </p> + <p> + He directed the workmen in every detail, hurrying them by example and + exhortations, and receiving, in consequence, several declarations of + independence, as well as one resignation, which took effect immediately. + “Yous capitalusts seem to think a man's got nothin' to do but break his + back p'doosin' wealth fer yous to squander,” the resigning person loudly + complained. “You look out: the toiler's day is a-comin', and it ain't so + fur off, neither!” But the capitalist was already out of hearing, gone to + find a man to take this orator's place. + </p> + <p> + By the end of the week, Adams felt that he had moved satisfactorily + forward in his preparations for the simple equipment he needed; but he + hated the pause of Sunday. He didn't WANT any rest, he told Alice + impatiently, when she suggested that the idle day might be good for him. + </p> + <p> + Late that afternoon he walked over to the apartment house where old + Charley Lohr lived, and gave his friend the letter he wanted the head of + Lamb and Company to receive “personally.” “I'll take it as a mighty great + favour in you to hand it to him personally, Charley,” he said, in parting. + “And you won't forget, in case he says anything about it—and + remember if you ever do get a chance to put in a good word for me later, + you know——” + </p> + <p> + Old Charley promised to remember, and, when Mrs. Lohr came out of the + “kitchenette,” after the door closed, he said thoughtfully, “Just skin and + bones.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Mr. Adams is?” Mrs. Lohr inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Who'd you think I meant?” he returned. “One o' these partridges in the + wall-paper?” + </p> + <p> + “Did he look so badly?” + </p> + <p> + “Looked kind of distracted to me,” her husband replied. “These little thin + fellers can stand a heap sometimes, though. He'll be over here again + Monday.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he say he would?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Lohr. “But he will. You'll see. He'll be over to find out what + the big boss says when I give him this letter. Expect I'd be kind of + anxious, myself, if I was him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why would you? What's Mr. Adams doing to be so anxious about?” + </p> + <p> + Lohr's expression became one of reserve, the look of a man who has found + that when he speaks his inner thoughts his wife jumps too far to + conclusions. “Oh, nothing,” he said. “Of course any man starting up a new + business is bound to be pretty nervous a while. He'll be over here + to-morrow evening, all right; you'll see.” + </p> + <p> + The prediction was fulfilled: Adams arrived just after Mrs. Lohr had + removed the dinner dishes to her “kitchenette”; but Lohr had little + information to give his caller. + </p> + <p> + “He didn't say a word, Virgil; nary a word. I took it into his office and + handed it to him, and he just sat and read it; that's all. I kind of stood + around as long as I could, but he was sittin' at his desk with his side to + me, and he never turned around full toward me, as it were, so I couldn't + hardly even tell anything. All I know: he just read it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but see here,” Adams began, nervously. “Well——” + </p> + <p> + “Well what, Virg?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what did he say when he DID speak?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't speak. Not so long I was in there, anyhow. He just sat there + and read it. Read kind of slow. Then, when he came to the end, he turned + back and started to read it all over again. By that time there was three + or four other men standin' around in the office waitin' to speak to him, + and I had to go.” + </p> + <p> + Adams sighed, and stared at the floor, irresolute. “Well, I'll be getting + along back home then, I guess, Charley. So you're sure you couldn't tell + anything what he might have thought about it, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a thing in the world. I've told you all I know, Virg.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so, I guess so,” Adams said, mournfully. “I feel mighty obliged + to you, Charley Lohr; mighty obliged. Good-night to you.” And he departed, + sighing in perplexity. + </p> + <p> + On his way home, preoccupied with many thoughts, he walked so slowly that + once or twice he stopped and stood motionless for a few moments, without + being aware of it; and when he reached the juncture of the sidewalk with + the short brick path that led to his own front door, he stopped again, and + stood for more than a minute. “Ah, I wish I knew,” he whispered, + plaintively. “I do wish I knew what he thought about it.” + </p> + <p> + He was roused by a laugh that came lightly from the little veranda near + by. “Papa!” Alice called gaily. “What are you standing there muttering to + yourself about?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, are you there, dearie?” he said, and came up the path. A tall figure + rose from a chair on the veranda. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, this is Mr. Russell.” + </p> + <p> + The two men shook hands, Adams saying, “Pleased to make your + acquaintance,” as they looked at each other in the faint light diffused + through the opaque glass in the upper part of the door. Adams's impression + was of a strong and tall young man, fashionable but gentle; and Russell's + was of a dried, little old business man with a grizzled moustache, worried + bright eyes, shapeless dark clothes, and a homely manner. + </p> + <p> + “Nice evening,” Adams said further, as their hands parted. “Nice time o' + year it is, but we don't always have as good weather as this; that's the + trouble of it. Well——” He went to the door. “Well—I bid + you good evening,” he said, and retired within the house. + </p> + <p> + Alice laughed. “He's the old-fashionedest man in town, I suppose and + frightfully impressed with you, I could see!” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” said Russell. “How could anybody be impressed with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Because you're quiet? Good gracious! Don't you know that you're + the most impressive sort? We chatterers spend all our time playing to you + quiet people.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; we're only the audience.” + </p> + <p> + “'Only!'” she echoed. “Why, we live for you, and we can't live without + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you couldn't,” said Russell. “That would be a new experience for + both of us, wouldn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It might be a rather bleak one for me,” she answered, lightly. “I'm + afraid I'll miss these summer evenings with you when they're over. I'll + miss them enough, thanks!” + </p> + <p> + “Do they have to be over some time?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, everything's over some time, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + Russell laughed at her. “Don't let's look so far ahead as that,” he said. + “We don't need to be already thinking of the cemetery, do we?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't,” she said, shaking her head. “Our summer evenings will be over + before then, Mr. Russell.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” she said. “THERE'S laconic eloquence: almost a proposal in + a single word! Never mind, I shan't hold you to it. But to answer you: + well, I'm always looking ahead, and somehow I usually see about how things + are coming out.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. “I suppose most of us do; at least it seems as if we did, + because we so seldom feel surprised by the way they do come out. But maybe + that's only because life isn't like a play in a theatre, and most things + come about so gradually we get used to them.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm sure I can see quite a long way ahead,” she insisted, gravely. + “And it doesn't seem to me as if our summer evenings could last very long. + Something'll interfere—somebody will, I mean—they'll SAY + something——” + </p> + <p> + “What if they do?” + </p> + <p> + She moved her shoulders in a little apprehensive shiver. “It'll change + you,” she said. “I'm just sure something spiteful's going to happen to me. + You'll feel differently about—things.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, isn't that an idea!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “It will,” she insisted. “I know something spiteful's going to happen!” + </p> + <p> + “You seem possessed by a notion not a bit flattering to me,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but isn't it? That's just what it is! Why isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it implies that I'm made of such soft material the slightest + breeze will mess me all up. I'm not so like that as I evidently appear; + and if it's true that we're afraid other people will do the things we'd be + most likely to do ourselves, it seems to me that I ought to be the one to + be afraid. I ought to be afraid that somebody may say something about me + to you that will make you believe I'm a professional forger.” + </p> + <p> + “No. We both know they won't,” she said. “We both know you're the sort of + person everybody in the world says nice things about.” She lifted her hand + to silence him as he laughed at this. “Oh, of course you are! I think + perhaps you're a little flirtatious—most quiet men have that one sly + way with 'em—oh, yes, they do! But you happen to be the kind of man + everybody loves to praise. And if you weren't, <i>I</i> shouldn't hear + anything terrible about you. I told you I was unpopular: I don't see + anybody at all any more. The only man except you who's been to see me in a + month is that fearful little fat Frank Dowling, and I sent word to HIM I + wasn't home. Nobody'd tell me of your wickedness, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me break some news to you,” Russell said. “Nobody would tell me + of yours, either. Nobody's even mentioned you to me.” + </p> + <p> + She burlesqued a cry of anguish. “That IS obscurity! I suppose I'm too apt + to forget that they say the population's about half a million nowadays. + There ARE other people to talk about, you feel, then?” + </p> + <p> + “None that I want to,” he said. “But I should think the size of the place + might relieve your mind of what seems to insist on burdening it. Besides, + I'd rather you thought me a better man than you do.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a man do I think you are?” + </p> + <p> + “The kind affected by what's said about people instead of by what they do + themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not,” he said. “If you want our summer evenings to be over you'll + have to drive me away yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody else could?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent, leaning forward, with her elbows on her knees and her + clasped hands against her lips. Then, not moving, she said softly: + </p> + <p> + “Well—I won't!” + </p> + <p> + She was silent again, and he said nothing, but looked at her, seeming to + be content with looking. Her attitude was one only a graceful person + should assume, but she was graceful; and, in the wan light, which made a + prettily shaped mist of her, she had beauty. Perhaps it was beauty of the + hour, and of the love scene almost made into form by what they had both + just said, but she had it; and though beauty of the hour passes, he who + sees it will long remember it and the hour when it came. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She leaned back in her chair and did not answer at once. Then she said: + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; I doubt if I was thinking of anything. It seems to me I + wasn't. I think I was just being sort of sadly happy just then.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you? Was it 'sadly,' too?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know?” she said. “It seems to me that only little children can + be just happily happy. I think when we get older our happiest moments are + like the one I had just then: it's as if we heard strains of minor music + running through them—oh, so sweet, but oh, so sad!” + </p> + <p> + “But what makes it sad for YOU?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she said, in a lighter tone. “Perhaps it's a kind of + useless foreboding I seem to have pretty often. It may be that—or it + may be poor papa.” + </p> + <p> + “You ARE a funny, delightful girl, though!” Russell laughed. “When your + father's so well again that he goes out walking in the evenings!” + </p> + <p> + “He does too much walking,” Alice said. “Too much altogether, over at his + new plant. But there isn't any stopping him.” She laughed and shook her + head. “When a man gets an ambition to be a multi-millionaire his family + don't appear to have much weight with him. He'll walk all he wants to, in + spite of them.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” Russell said, absently; then he leaned forward. “I wish I + could understand better why you were 'sadly' happy.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, as Alice shed what further light she could on this point, the + man ambitious to be a “multi-millionaire” was indeed walking too much for + his own good. He had gone to bed, hoping to sleep well and rise early for + a long day's work, but he could not rest, and now, in his nightgown and + slippers, he was pacing the floor of his room. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I DID know,” he thought, over and over. “I DO wish I knew how he + feels about it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + That was a thought almost continuously in his mind, even when he was + hardest at work; and, as the days went on and he could not free himself, + he became querulous about it. “I guess I'm the biggest dang fool alive,” + he told his wife as they sat together one evening. “I got plenty else to + bother me, without worrying my head off about what HE thinks. I can't help + what he thinks; it's too late for that. So why should I keep pestering + myself about it?” + </p> + <p> + “It'll wear off, Virgil,” Mrs. Adams said, reassuringly. She was gentle + and sympathetic with him, and for the first time in many years he would + come to sit with her and talk, when he had finished his day's work. He had + told her, evading her eye, “Oh, I don't blame you. You didn't get after me + to do this on your own account; you couldn't help it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but it don't wear off,” he complained. “This afternoon I was showing + the men how I wanted my vats to go, and I caught my fool self standing + there saying to my fool self, 'It's funny I don't hear how he feels about + it from SOMEbody.' I was saying it aloud, almost—and it IS funny I + don't hear anything!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see what it means, don't you, Virgil? It only means he hasn't + said anything to anybody about it. Don't you think you're getting kind of + morbid over it?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, maybe,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” she said, briskly. “You don't realize what a little bit of a + thing all this is to him. It's been a long, long while since the last time + you even mentioned glue to him, and he's probably forgotten everything + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “You're off your base; it isn't like him to forget things,” Adams + returned, peevishly. “He may seem to forget 'em, but he don't.” + </p> + <p> + “But he's not thinking about this, or you'd have heard from him before + now.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband shook his head. “Ah, that's just it!” he said. “Why HAVEN'T I + heard from him?” + </p> + <p> + “It's all your morbidness, Virgil. Look at Walter: if Mr. Lamb held this + up against you, would he still let Walter stay there? Wouldn't he have + discharged Walter if he felt angry with you?” + </p> + <p> + “That dang boy!” Adams said. “If he WANTED to come with me now, I wouldn't + hardly let him, What do you suppose makes him so bull-headed?” + </p> + <p> + “But hasn't he a right to choose for himself?” she asked. “I suppose he + feels he ought to stick to what he thinks is sure pay. As soon as he sees + that you're going to succeed with the glue-works he'll want to be with you + quick enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he better get a little sense in his head,” Adams returned, crossly. + “He wanted me to pay him a three-hundred-dollar bonus in advance, when + anybody with a grain of common sense knows I need every penny I can lay my + hands on!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” she said. “He'll come around later and be glad of the + chance.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll have to beg for it then! <i>I</i> won't ask him again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Walter will come out all right; you needn't worry. And don't you see + that Mr. Lamb's not discharging him means there's no hard feeling against + you, Virgil?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't make it out at all,” he said, frowning. “The only thing I can + THINK it means is that J. A. Lamb is so fair-minded—and of course he + IS one of the fair-mindedest men alive I suppose that's the reason he + hasn't fired Walter. He may know,” Adams concluded, morosely—“he may + know that's just another thing to make me feel all the meaner: keeping my + boy there on a salary after I've done him an injury.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, now!” she said, trying to comfort him. “You couldn't do anybody an + injury to save your life, and everybody knows it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, anybody ought to know I wouldn't WANT to do an injury, but this + world isn't built so't we can do just what we want.” He paused, + reflecting. “Of course there may be one explanation of why Walter's still + there: J. A. maybe hasn't noticed that he IS there. There's so many I + expect he hardly knows him by sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, just do quit thinking about it,” she urged him. “It only bothers + you without doing any good. Don't you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't I, though!” he laughed, feebly. “I know it better'n anybody! How + funny that is: when you know thinking about a thing only pesters you + without helping anything at all, and yet you keep right on pestering + yourself with it!” + </p> + <p> + “But WHY?” she said. “What's the use when you know you haven't done + anything wrong, Virgil? You said yourself you were going to improve the + process so much it would be different from the old one, and you'd REALLY + have a right to it.” + </p> + <p> + Adams had persuaded himself of this when he yielded; he had found it + necessary to persuade himself of it—though there was a part of him, + of course, that remained unpersuaded; and this discomfiting part of him + was what made his present trouble. “Yes, I know,” he said. “That's true, + but I can't quite seem to get away from the fact that the principle of the + process is a good deal the same—well, it's more'n that; it's just + about the same as the one he hired Campbell and me to work out for him. + Truth is, nobody could tell the difference, and I don't know as there IS + any difference except in these improvements I'm making. Of course, the + improvements do give me pretty near a perfect right to it, as a person + might say; and that's one of the things I thought of putting in my letter + to him; but I was afraid he'd just think I was trying to make up excuses, + so I left it out. I kind of worried all the time I was writing that + letter, because if he thought I WAS just making up excuses, why, it might + set him just so much more against me.” + </p> + <p> + Ever since Mrs. Adams had found that she was to have her way, the depths + of her eyes had been troubled by a continuous uneasiness; and, although + she knew it was there, and sometimes veiled it by keeping the revealing + eyes averted from her husband and children, she could not always cover it + under that assumption of absent-mindedness. The uneasy look became vivid, + and her voice was slightly tremulous now, as she said, “But what if he + SHOULD be against you—although I don't believe he is, of course—you + told me he couldn't DO anything to you, Virgil.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, slowly. “I can't see how he could do anything. It was just + a secret, not a patent; the thing ain't patentable. I've tried to think + what he could do—supposing he was to want to—but I can't + figure out anything at all that would be any harm to me. There isn't any + way in the world it could be made a question of law. Only thing he could + do'd be to TELL people his side of it, and set 'em against me. I been kind + of waiting for that to happen, all along.” + </p> + <p> + She looked somewhat relieved. “So did I expect it,” she said. “I was + dreading it most on Alice's account: it might have—well, young men + are so easily influenced and all. But so far as the business is concerned, + what if Mr. Lamb did talk? That wouldn't amount to much. It wouldn't + affect the business; not to hurt. And, besides, he isn't even doing that.” + </p> + <p> + “No; anyhow not yet, it seems.” And Adams sighed again, wistfully. “But I + WOULD give a good deal to know what he thinks!” + </p> + <p> + Before his surrender he had always supposed that if he did such an + unthinkable thing as to seize upon the glue process for himself, what he + would feel must be an overpowering shame. But shame is the rarest thing in + the world: what he felt was this unremittent curiosity about his old + employer's thoughts. It was an obsession, yet he did not want to hear what + Lamb “thought” from Lamb himself, for Adams had a second obsession, and + this was his dread of meeting the old man face to face. Such an encounter + could happen only by chance and unexpectedly; since Adams would have + avoided any deliberate meeting, so long as his legs had strength to carry + him, even if Lamb came to the house to see him. + </p> + <p> + But people do meet unexpectedly; and when Adams had to be down-town he + kept away from the “wholesale district.” One day he did see Lamb, as the + latter went by in his car, impassive, going home to lunch; and Adams, in + the crowd at a corner, knew that the old man had not seen him. + Nevertheless, in a street car, on the way back to his sheds, an hour + later, he was still subject to little shivering seizures of horror. + </p> + <p> + He worked unceasingly, seeming to keep at it even in his sleep, for he + always woke in the midst of a planning and estimating that must have been + going on in his mind before consciousness of himself returned. Moreover, + the work, thus urged, went rapidly, in spite of the high wages he had to + pay his labourers for their short hours. “It eats money,” he complained, + and, in fact, by the time his vats and boilers were in place it had eaten + almost all he could supply; but in addition to his equipment he now owned + a stock of “raw material,” raw indeed; and when operations should be a + little further along he was confident his banker would be willing to + “carry” him. + </p> + <p> + Six weeks from the day he had obtained his lease he began his glue-making. + The terrible smells came out of the sheds and went writhing like snakes + all through that quarter of the town. A smiling man, strolling and + breathing the air with satisfaction, would turn a corner and smile no + more, but hurry. However, coloured people had almost all the dwellings of + this old section to themselves; and although even they were troubled, + there was recompense for them. Being philosophic about what appeared to + them as in the order of nature, they sought neither escape nor redress, + and soon learned to bear what the wind brought them. They even made use of + it to enrich those figures of speech with which the native impulses of + coloured people decorate their communications: they flavoured metaphor, + simile, and invective with it; and thus may be said to have enjoyed it. + But the man who produced it took a hot bath as soon as he reached his home + the evening of that first day when his manufacturing began. Then he put on + fresh clothes; but after dinner he seemed to be haunted, and asked his + wife if she “noticed anything.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed and inquired what he meant. + </p> + <p> + “Seems to me as if that glue-works smell hadn't quit hanging to me,” he + explained. “Don't you notice it?” + </p> + <p> + “No! What an idea!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed, too, but uneasily; and told her he was sure “the dang glue + smell” was somehow sticking to him. Later, he went outdoors and walked up + and down the small yard in the dusk; but now and then he stood still, with + his head lifted, and sniffed the air suspiciously. “Can YOU smell it?” he + called to Alice, who sat upon the veranda, prettily dressed and waiting in + a reverie. + </p> + <p> + “Smell what, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “That dang glue-works.” + </p> + <p> + She did the same thing her mother had done: laughed, and said, “No! How + foolish! Why, papa, it's over two miles from here!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't get it at all?” he insisted. + </p> + <p> + “The idea! The air is lovely to-night, papa.” + </p> + <p> + The air did not seem lovely to him, for he was positive that he detected + the taint. He wondered how far it carried, and if J. A. Lamb would smell + it, too, out on his own lawn a mile to the north; and if he did, would he + guess what it was? Then Adams laughed at himself for such nonsense; but + could not rid his nostrils of their disgust. To him the whole town seemed + to smell of his glue-works. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the glue was making, and his sheds were busy. “Guess we're + stirrin' up this ole neighbourhood with more than the smell,” his foreman + remarked one morning. + </p> + <p> + “How's that?” Adams inquired. + </p> + <p> + “That great big, enormous ole dead butterine factory across the street + from our lot,” the man said. “Nothin' like settin' an example to bring + real estate to life. That place is full o' carpenters startin' in to make + a regular buildin' of it again. Guess you ought to have the credit of it, + because you was the first man in ten years to see any possibilities in + this neighbourhood.” + </p> + <p> + Adams was pleased, and, going out to see for himself, heard a great + hammering and sawing from within the building; while carpenters were just + emerging gingerly upon the dangerous roof. He walked out over the dried + mud of his deep lot, crossed the street, and spoke genially to a workman + who was removing the broken glass of a window on the ground floor. + </p> + <p> + “Here! What's all this howdy-do over here?” + </p> + <p> + “Goin' to fix her all up, I guess,” the workman said. “Big job it is, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Sh' think it would be.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; a pretty big job—a pretty big job. Got men at it on all + four floors and on the roof. They're doin' it RIGHT.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's doing it?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord! I d' know. Some o' these here big manufacturing corporations, I + guess.” + </p> + <p> + “What's it going to be?” + </p> + <p> + “They tell ME,” the workman answered—“they tell ME she's goin' to be + a butterine factory again. Anyways, I hope she won't be anything to smell + like that glue-works you got over there not while I'm workin' around her, + anyways!” + </p> + <p> + “That smell's all right,” Adams said. “You soon get used to it.” + </p> + <p> + “You do?” The man appeared incredulous. “Listen! I was over in France: + it's a good thing them Dutchmen never thought of it; we'd of had to quit!” + </p> + <p> + Adams laughed, and went back to his sheds. “I guess my foreman was right,” + he told his wife, that evening, with a little satisfaction. “As soon as + one man shows enterprise enough to found an industry in a broken-down + neighbourhood, somebody else is sure to follow. I kind of like the look of + it: it'll help make our place seem sort of more busy and prosperous when + it comes to getting a loan from the bank—and I got to get one mighty + soon, too. I did think some that if things go as well as there's every + reason to think they OUGHT to, I might want to spread out and maybe get + hold of that old factory myself; but I hardly expected to be able to + handle a proposition of that size before two or three years from now, and + anyhow there's room enough on the lot I got, if we need more buildings + some day. Things are going about as fine as I could ask: I hired some + girls to-day to do the bottling—coloured girls along about sixteen + to twenty years old. Afterwhile, I expect to get a machine to put the + stuff in the little bottles, when we begin to get good returns; but half a + dozen of these coloured girls can do it all right now, by hand. We're + getting to have really quite a little plant over there: yes, sir, quite a + regular little plant!” + </p> + <p> + He chuckled, and at this cheerful sound, of a kind his wife had almost + forgotten he was capable of producing, she ventured to put her hand upon + his arm. They had gone outdoors, after dinner, taking two chairs with + them, and were sitting through the late twilight together, keeping well + away from the “front porch,” which was not yet occupied, however Alice was + in her room changing her dress. + </p> + <p> + “Well, honey,” Mrs. Adams said, taking confidence not only to put her hand + upon his arm, but to revive this disused endearment;—“it's grand to + have you so optimistic. Maybe some time you'll admit I was right, after + all. Everything's going so well, it seems a pity you didn't take this—this + step—long ago. Don't you think maybe so, Virgil?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—if I was ever going to, I don't know but I might as well of. I + got to admit the proposition begins to look pretty good: I know the + stuff'll sell, and I can't see a thing in the world to stop it. It does + look good, and if—if——” He paused. + </p> + <p> + “If what?” she said, suddenly anxious. + </p> + <p> + He laughed plaintively, as if confessing a superstition. “It's funny—well, + it's mighty funny about that smell. I've got so used to it at the plant I + never seem to notice it at all over there. It's only when I get away. + Honestly, can't you notice——?” + </p> + <p> + “Virgil!” She lifted her hand to strike his arm chidingly. “Do quit + harping on that nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course it don't amount to anything,” he said. “A person can stand + a good deal of just smell. It don't WORRY me any.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not especially as there isn't any.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I feel pretty fair over the whole thing—a lot + better'n I ever expected to, anyhow. I don't know as there's any reason I + shouldn't tell you so.” + </p> + <p> + She was deeply pleased with this acknowledgment, and her voice had + tenderness in it as she responded: “There, honey! Didn't I always say + you'd be glad if you did it?” + </p> + <p> + Embarrassed, he coughed loudly, then filled his pipe and lit it. “Well,” + he said, slowly, “it's a puzzle. Yes, sir, it's a puzzle.” + </p> + <p> + “What is?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty much everything, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, a song came to them from a lighted window over their heads. + Then the window darkened abruptly, but the song continued as Alice went + down through the house to wait on the little veranda. “Mi chiamo Mimi,” + she sang, and in her voice throbbed something almost startling in its + sweetness. Her father and mother listened, not speaking until the song + stopped with the click of the wire screen at the front door as Alice came + out. + </p> + <p> + “My!” said her father. “How sweet she does sing! I don't know as I ever + heard her voice sound nicer than it did just then.” + </p> + <p> + “There's something that makes it sound that way,” his wife told him. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” he said, sighing. “I suppose so. You think——” + </p> + <p> + “She's just terribly in love with him!” + </p> + <p> + “I expect that's the way it ought to be,” he said, then drew upon his pipe + for reflection, and became murmurous with the symptoms of melancholy + laughter. “It don't make things less of a puzzle, though, does it?” + </p> + <p> + “In what way, Virgil?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, here,” he said—“here we go through all this muck and moil to + help fix things nicer for her at home, and what's it all amount to? Seems + like she's just gone ahead the way she'd 'a' gone anyhow; and now, I + suppose, getting ready to up and leave us! Ain't that a puzzle to you? It + is to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but things haven't gone that far yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you just said——” + </p> + <p> + She gave a little cry of protest. “Oh, they aren't ENGAGED yet. Of course + they WILL be; he's just as much interested in her as she is in him, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what's the trouble then?” + </p> + <p> + “You ARE a simple old fellow!” his wife exclaimed, and then rose from her + chair. “That reminds me,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What of?” he asked. “What's my being simple remind you of?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” she laughed. “It wasn't you that reminded me. It was just + something that's been on my mind. I don't believe he's actually ever been + inside our house!” + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “I actually don't believe he ever has,” she said. “Of course we must——” + She paused, debating. + </p> + <p> + “We must what?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I better talk to Alice about it right now,” she said. “He don't + usually come for about half an hour yet; I guess I've got time.” And with + that she walked away, leaving him to his puzzles. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Alice was softly crooning to herself as her mother turned the corner of + the house and approached through the dusk. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it the most BEAUTIFUL evening!” the daughter said. “WHY can't + summer last all year? Did you ever know a lovelier twilight than this, + mama?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams laughed, and answered, “Not since I was your age, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was wistful at once. “Don't they stay beautiful after my age?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's not the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it? Not ever?” + </p> + <p> + “You may have a different kind from mine,” the mother said, a little + sadly. “I think you will, Alice. You deserve——” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't. I don't deserve anything, and I know it. But I'm getting a + great deal these days—more than I ever dreamed COULD come to me. I'm—I'm + pretty happy, mama!” + </p> + <p> + “Dearie!” Her mother would have kissed her, but Alice drew away. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't mean——” She laughed nervously. “I wasn't meaning + to tell you I'm ENGAGED, mama. We're not. I mean—oh! things seem + pretty beautiful in spite of all I've done to spoil 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” Mrs. Adams cried, incredulously. “What have you done to spoil + anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Little things,” Alice said. “A thousand little silly—oh, what's the + use? He's so honestly what he is—just simple and good and + intelligent—I feel a tricky mess beside him! I don't see why he + likes me; and sometimes I'm afraid he wouldn't if he knew me.” + </p> + <p> + “He'd just worship you,” said the fond mother. “And the more he knew you, + the more he'd worship you.” + </p> + <p> + Alice shook her head. “He's not the worshiping kind. Not like that at all. + He's more——” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Adams was not interested in this analysis, and she interrupted + briskly, “Of course it's time your father and I showed some interest in + him. I was just saying I actually don't believe he's ever been inside the + house.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Alice said, musingly; “that's true: I don't believe he has. Except + when we've walked in the evening we've always sat out here, even those two + times when it was drizzly. It's so much nicer.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll have to do SOMETHING or other, of course,” her mother said. + </p> + <p> + “What like?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking——” Mrs. Adams paused. “Well, of course we + could hardly put off asking him to dinner, or something, much longer.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was not enthusiastic; so far from it, indeed, that there was a + melancholy alarm in her voice. “Oh, mama, must we? Do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do. I really do.” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't we—well, couldn't we wait?” + </p> + <p> + “It looks queer,” Mrs. Adams said. “It isn't the thing at all for a young + man to come as much as he does, and never more than just barely meet your + father and mother. No. We ought to do something.” + </p> + <p> + “But a dinner!” Alice objected. “In the first place, there isn't anybody I + want to ask. There isn't anybody I WOULD ask.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean trying to give a big dinner,” her mother explained. “I just + mean having him to dinner. That mulatto woman, Malena Burns, goes out by + the day, and she could bring a waitress. We can get some flowers for the + table and some to put in the living-room. We might just as well go ahead + and do it to-morrow as any other time; because your father's in a fine + mood, and I saw Malena this afternoon and told her I might want her soon. + She said she didn't have any engagements this week, and I can let her know + to-night. Suppose when he comes you ask him for to-morrow, Alice. + Everything'll be very nice, I'm sure. Don't worry about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—but——” Alice was uncertain. + </p> + <p> + “But don't you see, it looks so queer, not to do SOMETHING?” her mother + urged. “It looks so kind of poverty-stricken. We really oughtn't to wait + any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Alice assented, though not with a good heart. “Very well, I'll ask him, if + you think we've got to.” + </p> + <p> + “That matter's settled then,” Mrs. Adams said. “I'll go telephone Malena, + and then I'll tell your father about it.” + </p> + <p> + But when she went back to her husband, she found him in an excited state + of mind, and Walter standing before him in the darkness. Adams was almost + shouting, so great was his vehemence. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush!” his wife implored, as she came near them. “They'll hear you + out on the front porch!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care who hears me,” Adams said, harshly, though he tempered his + loudness. “Do you want to know what this boy's asking me for? I thought + he'd maybe come to tell me he'd got a little sense in his head at last, + and a little decency about what's due his family! I thought he was going + to ask me to take him into my plant. No, ma'am; THAT'S not what he wants!” + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn't,” Walter said. In the darkness his face could not be seen; + he stood motionless, in what seemed an apathetic attitude; and he spoke + quietly, “No,” he repeated. “That isn't what I want.” + </p> + <p> + “You stay down at that place,” Adams went on, hotly, “instead of trying to + be a little use to your family; and the only reason you're ALLOWED to stay + there is because Mr. Lamb's never happened to notice you ARE still there! + You just wait——” + </p> + <p> + “You're off,” Walter said, in the same quiet way. “He knows I'm there. He + spoke to me yesterday: he asked me how I was getting along with my work.” + </p> + <p> + “He did?” Adams said, seeming not to believe him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He did.” + </p> + <p> + “What else did he say, Walter?” Mrs. Adams asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin'. Just walked on.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe he knew who you were,” Adams declared. + </p> + <p> + “Think not? He called me 'Walter Adams.'” + </p> + <p> + At this Adams was silent; and Walter, after waiting a moment, said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, are you going to do anything about me? About what I told you I got + to have?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Walter?” his mother asked, since Adams did not speak. + </p> + <p> + Walter cleared his throat, and replied in a tone as quiet as that he had + used before, though with a slight huskiness, “I got to have three hundred + and fifty dollars. You better get him to give it to me if you can.” + </p> + <p> + Adams found his voice. “Yes,” he said, bitterly. “That's all he asks! He + won't do anything I ask HIM to, and in return he asks me for three hundred + and fifty dollars! That's all!” + </p> + <p> + “What in the world!” Mrs. Adams exclaimed. “What FOR, Walter?” + </p> + <p> + “I got to have it,” Walter said. + </p> + <p> + “But what FOR?” + </p> + <p> + His quiet huskiness did not alter. “I got to have it.” + </p> + <p> + “But can't you tell us——” + </p> + <p> + “I got to have it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all you can get out of him,” Adams said. “He seems to think it'll + bring him in three hundred and fifty dollars!” + </p> + <p> + A faint tremulousness became evident in the husky voice. “Haven't you got + it?” + </p> + <p> + “NO, I haven't got it!” his father answered. “And I've got to go to a bank + for more than my pay-roll next week. Do you think I'm a mint?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand what you mean, Walter,” Mrs. Adams interposed, + perplexed and distressed. “If your father had the money, of course he'd + need every cent of it, especially just now, and, anyhow, you could + scarcely expect him to give it to you, unless you told us what you want + with it. But he hasn't got it.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” Walter said; and after standing a moment more, in silence, he + added, impersonally, “I don't see as you ever did anything much for me, + anyhow either of you.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as if this were his valedictory, he turned his back upon them, + walked away quickly, and was at once lost to their sight in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “There's a fine boy to've had the trouble of raising!” Adams grumbled. + “Just crazy, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “What in the world do you suppose he wants all that money for?” his wife + said, wonderingly. “I can't imagine what he could DO with it. I wonder——” + She paused. “I wonder if he——” + </p> + <p> + “If he what?” Adams prompted her irritably. + </p> + <p> + “If he COULD have bad—associates.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows!” said Adams. “<i>I</i> don't! It just looks to me like he had + something in him I don't understand. You can't keep your eye on a boy all + the time in a city this size, not a boy Walter's age. You got a girl + pretty much in the house, but a boy'll follow his nature. <i>I</i> don't + know what to do with him!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams brightened a little. “He'll come out all right,” she said. “I'm + sure he will. I'm sure he'd never be anything really bad: and he'll come + around all right about the glue-works, too; you'll see. Of course every + young man wants money—it doesn't prove he's doing anything wrong + just because he asks you for it.” + </p> + <p> + “No. All it proves to me is that he hasn't got good sense asking me for + three hundred and fifty dollars, when he knows as well as you do the + position I'm in! If I wanted to, I couldn't hardly let him have three + hundred and fifty cents, let alone dollars!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you'll have to let ME have that much—and maybe a little + more,” she ventured, timidly; and she told him of her plans for the + morrow. He objected vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but Alice has probably asked him by this time,” Mrs. Adams said. “It + really must be done, Virgil: you don't want him to think she's ashamed of + us, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go ahead, but just let me stay away,” he begged. “Of course I + expect to undergo a kind of talk with him, when he gets ready to say + something to us about Alice, but I do hate to have to sit through a + fashionable dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it isn't going to bother you,” she said; “just one young man as a + guest.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know; but you want to have all this fancy cookin'; and I see well + enough you're going to get that old dress suit out of the cedar chest in + the attic, and try to make me put it on me.” + </p> + <p> + “I do think you better, Virgil.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope the moths have got in it,” he said. “Last time I wore it was to + the banquet, and it was pretty old then. Of course I didn't mind wearing + it to the banquet so much, because that was what you might call quite an + occasion.” He spoke with some reminiscent complacency; “the banquet,” an + affair now five years past, having provided the one time in his life when + he had been so distinguished among his fellow-citizens as to receive an + invitation to be present, with some seven hundred others, at the annual + eating and speech-making of the city's Chamber of Commerce. “Anyhow, as + you say, I think it would look foolish of me to wear a dress suit for just + one young man,” he went on protesting, feebly. “What's the use of all so + much howdy-do, anyway? You don't expect him to believe we put on all that + style every night, do you? Is that what you're after?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we want him to think we live nicely,” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + “So that's it!” he said, querulously. “You want him to think that's our + regular gait, do you? Well, he'll know better about me, no matter how you + fix me up, because he saw me in my regular suit the evening she introduced + me to him, and he could tell anyway I'm not one of these moving-picture + sporting-men that's always got a dress suit on. Besides, you and Alice + certainly have some idea he'll come AGAIN, haven't you? If they get things + settled between 'em he'll be around the house and to meals most any time, + won't he? You don't hardly expect to put on style all the time, I guess. + Well, he'll see then that this kind of thing was all show-off, and bluff, + won't he? What about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, by THAT time——” She left the sentence unfinished, + as if absently. “You could let us have a little money for to-morrow, + couldn't you, honey?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I reckon, I reckon,” he mumbled. “A girl like Alice is some comfort: + she don't come around acting as if she'd commit suicide if she didn't get + three hundred and fifty dollars in the next five minutes. I expect I can + spare five or six dollars for your show-off if I got to.” + </p> + <p> + However, she finally obtained fifteen before his bedtime; and the next + morning “went to market” after breakfast, leaving Alice to make the beds. + Walter had not yet come downstairs. “You had better call him,” Mrs. Adams + said, as she departed with a big basket on her arm. “I expect he's pretty + sleepy; he was out so late last night I didn't hear him come in, though I + kept awake till after midnight, listening for him. Tell him he'll be late + to work if he doesn't hurry; and see that he drinks his coffee, even if he + hasn't time for anything else. And when Malena comes, get her started in + the kitchen: show her where everything is.” She waved her hand, as she set + out for a corner where the cars stopped. “Everything'll be lovely. Don't + forget about Walter.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Alice forgot about Walter for a few minutes. She closed the + door, went into the “living-room” absently, and stared vaguely at one of + the old brown-plush rocking-chairs there. Upon her forehead were the + little shadows of an apprehensive reverie, and her thoughts overlapped one + another in a fretful jumble. “What will he think? These old chairs—they're + hideous. I'll scrub those soot-streaks on the columns: it won't do any + good, though. That long crack in the column—nothing can help it. + What will he think of papa? I hope mama won't talk too much. When he + thinks of Mildred's house, or of Henrietta's, or any of 'em, beside this—She + said she'd buy plenty of roses; that ought to help some. Nothing could be + done about these horrible chairs: can't take 'em up in the attic—a + room's got to have chairs! Might have rented some. No; if he ever comes + again he'd see they weren't here. 'If he ever comes again'—oh, it + won't be THAT bad! But it won't be what he expects. I'm responsible for + what he expects: he expects just what the airs I've put on have made him + expect. What did I want to pose so to him for—as if papa were a + wealthy man and all that? What WILL he think? The photograph of the + Colosseum's a rather good thing, though. It helps some—as if we'd + bought it in Rome perhaps. I hope he'll think so; he believes I've been + abroad, of course. The other night he said, 'You remember the feeling you + get in the Sainte-Chapelle'.—There's another lie of mine, not saying + I didn't remember because I'd never been there. What makes me do it? Papa + MUST wear his evening clothes. But Walter——” + </p> + <p> + With that she recalled her mother's admonition, and went upstairs to + Walter's door. She tapped upon it with her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Time to get up, Walter. The rest of us had breakfast over half an hour + ago, and it's nearly eight o'clock. You'll be late. Hurry down and I'll + have some coffee and toast ready for you.” There came no sound from within + the room, so she rapped louder. + </p> + <p> + “Wake up, Walter!” + </p> + <p> + She called and rapped again, without getting any response, and then, + finding that the door yielded to her, opened it and went in. Walter was + not there. + </p> + <p> + He had been there, however; had slept upon the bed, though not inside the + covers; and Alice supposed he must have come home so late that he had been + too sleepy to take off his clothes. Near the foot of the bed was a shallow + closet where he kept his “other suit” and his evening clothes; and the + door stood open, showing a bare wall. Nothing whatever was in the closet, + and Alice was rather surprised at this for a moment. “That's queer,” she + murmured; and then she decided that when he woke he found the clothes he + had slept in “so mussy” he had put on his “other suit,” and had gone out + before breakfast with the mussed clothes to have them pressed, taking his + evening things with them. Satisfied with this explanation, and failing to + observe that it did not account for the absence of shoes from the closet + floor, she nodded absently, “Yes, that must be it”; and, when her mother + returned, told her that Walter had probably breakfasted down-town. They + did not delay over this; the coloured woman had arrived, and the basket's + disclosures were important. + </p> + <p> + “I stopped at Worlig's on the way back,” said Mrs. Adams, flushed with + hurry and excitement. “I bought a can of caviar there. I thought we'd have + little sandwiches brought into the 'living-room' before dinner, the way + you said they did when you went to that dinner at the——” + </p> + <p> + “But I think that was to go with cocktails, mama, and of course we haven't——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Mrs. Adams said. “Still, I think it would be nice. We can make them + look very dainty, on a tray, and the waitress can bring them in. I thought + we'd have the soup already on the table; and we can walk right out as soon + as we have the sandwiches, so it won't get cold. Then, after the soup, + Malena says she can make sweetbread pates with mushrooms: and for the meat + course we'll have larded fillet. Malena's really a fancy cook, you know, + and she says she can do anything like that to perfection. We'll have peas + with the fillet, and potato balls and Brussels sprouts. Brussels sprouts + are fashionable now, they told me at market. Then will come the chicken + salad, and after that the ice-cream—she's going to make an + angel-food cake to go with it—and then coffee and crackers and a new + kind of cheese I got at Worlig's, he says is very fine.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was alarmed. “Don't you think perhaps it's too much, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “It's better to have too much than too little,” her mother said, + cheerfully. “We don't want him to think we're the kind that skimp. Lord + knows we have to enough, though, most of the time! Get the flowers in + water, child. I bought 'em at market because they're so much cheaper + there, but they'll keep fresh and nice. You fix 'em any way you want. + Hurry! It's got to be a busy day.” + </p> + <p> + She had bought three dozen little roses. Alice took them and began to + arrange them in vases, keeping the stems separated as far as possible so + that the clumps would look larger. She put half a dozen in each of three + vases in the “living-room,” placing one vase on the table in the center of + the room, and one at each end of the mantelpiece. Then she took the rest + of the roses to the dining-room; but she postponed the arrangement of them + until the table should be set, just before dinner. She was thoughtful; + planning to dry the stems and lay them on the tablecloth like a vine of + roses running in a delicate design, if she found that the dozen and a half + she had left were enough for that. If they weren't she would arrange them + in a vase. + </p> + <p> + She looked a long time at the little roses in the basin of water, where + she had put them; then she sighed, and went away to heavier tasks, while + her mother worked in the kitchen with Malena. Alice dusted the + “living-room” and the dining-room vigorously, though all the time with a + look that grew more and more pensive; and having dusted everything, she + wiped the furniture; rubbed it hard. After that, she washed the floors and + the woodwork. + </p> + <p> + Emerging from the kitchen at noon, Mrs. Adams found her daughter on hands + and knees, scrubbing the bases of the columns between the hall and the + “living-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, dearie,” she said, “you mustn't tire yourself out, and you'd better + come and eat something. Your father said he'd get a bite down-town to-day—he + was going down to the bank—and Walter eats down-town all the time + lately, so I thought we wouldn't bother to set the table for lunch. Come + on and we'll have something in the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Alice said, dully, as she went on with the work. “I don't want + anything.” + </p> + <p> + Her mother came closer to her. “Why, what's the matter?” she asked, + briskly. “You seem kind of pale, to me; and you don't look—you don't + look HAPPY.” + </p> + <p> + “Well——” Alice began, uncertainly, but said no more. + </p> + <p> + “See here!” Mrs. Adams exclaimed. “This is all just for you! You ought to + be ENJOYING it. Why, it's the first time we've—we've entertained in + I don't know how long! I guess it's almost since we had that little party + when you were eighteen. What's the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dearie, aren't you looking FORWARD to this evening?” + </p> + <p> + The girl looked up, showing a pallid and solemn face. “Oh, yes, of + course,” she said, and tried to smile. “Of course we had to do it—I + do think it'll be nice. Of course I'm looking forward to it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + She was indeed “looking forward” to that evening, but in a cloud of + apprehension; and, although she could never have guessed it, this was the + simultaneous condition of another person—none other than the guest + for whose pleasure so much cooking and scrubbing seemed to be necessary. + Moreover, Mr. Arthur Russell's premonitions were no product of mere + coincidence; neither had any magical sympathy produced them. His state of + mind was rather the result of rougher undercurrents which had all the time + been running beneath the surface of a romantic friendship. + </p> + <p> + Never shrewder than when she analyzed the gentlemen, Alice did not libel + him when she said he was one of those quiet men who are a bit flirtatious, + by which she meant that he was a bit “susceptible,” the same thing—and + he had proved himself susceptible to Alice upon his first sight of her. + “There!” he said to himself. “Who's that?” And in the crowd of girls at + his cousin's dance, all strangers to him, she was the one he wanted to + know. + </p> + <p> + Since then, his summer evenings with her had been as secluded as if, for + three hours after the falling of dusk, they two had drawn apart from the + world to some dear bower of their own. The little veranda was that + glamorous nook, with a faint golden light falling through the glass of the + closed door upon Alice, and darkness elsewhere, except for the one round + globe of the street lamp at the corner. The people who passed along the + sidewalk, now and then, were only shadows with voices, moving vaguely + under the maple trees that loomed in obscure contours against the stars. + So, as the two sat together, the back of the world was the wall and closed + door behind them; and Russell, when he was away from Alice, always thought + of her as sitting there before the closed door. A glamour was about her + thus, and a spell upon him; but he had a formless anxiety never put into + words: all the pictures of her in his mind stopped at the closed door. + </p> + <p> + He had another anxiety; and, for the greater part, this was of her own + creating. She had too often asked him (no matter how gaily) what he heard + about her, too often begged him not to hear anything. Then, hoping to + forestall whatever he might hear, she had been at too great pains to + account for it, to discredit and mock it; and, though he laughed at her + for this, telling her truthfully he did not even hear her mentioned, the + everlasting irony that deals with all such human forefendings prevailed. + </p> + <p> + Lately, he had half confessed to her what a nervousness she had produced. + “You make me dread the day when I'll hear somebody speaking of you. You're + getting me so upset about it that if I ever hear anybody so much as say + the name 'Alice Adams,' I'll run!” The confession was but half of one + because he laughed; and she took it for an assurance of loyalty in the + form of burlesque. + </p> + <p> + She misunderstood: he laughed, but his nervousness was genuine. + </p> + <p> + After any stroke of events, whether a happy one or a catastrophe, we see + that the materials for it were a long time gathering, and the only marvel + is that the stroke was not prophesied. What bore the air of fatal + coincidence may remain fatal indeed, to this later view; but, with the + haphazard aspect dispelled, there is left for scrutiny the same ancient + hint from the Infinite to the effect that since events have never yet + failed to be law-abiding, perhaps it were well for us to deduce that they + will continue to be so until further notice. + </p> + <p> + . . . On the day that was to open the closed door in the background of his + pictures of Alice, Russell lunched with his relatives. There were but the + four people, Russell and Mildred and her mother and father, in the great, + cool dining-room. Arched French windows, shaded by awnings, admitted a + mellow light and looked out upon a green lawn ending in a long + conservatory, which revealed through its glass panes a carnival of plants + in luxuriant blossom. From his seat at the table, Russell glanced out at + this pretty display, and informed his cousins that he was surprised. “You + have such a glorious spread of flowers all over the house,” he said, “I + didn't suppose you'd have any left out yonder. In fact, I didn't know + there were so many splendid flowers in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Palmer, large, calm, fair, like her daughter, responded with a mild + reproach: “That's because you haven't been cousinly enough to get used to + them, Arthur. You've almost taught us to forget what you look like.” + </p> + <p> + In defense Russell waved a hand toward her husband. “You see, he's begun + to keep me so hard at work——” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Palmer declined the responsibility. “Up to four or five in the + afternoon, perhaps,” he said. “After that, the young gentleman is as much + a stranger to me as he is to my family. I've been wondering who she could + be.” + </p> + <p> + “When a man's preoccupied there must be a lady then?” Russell inquired. + </p> + <p> + “That seems to be the view of your sex,” Mrs. Palmer suggested. “It was my + husband who said it, not Mildred or I.” + </p> + <p> + Mildred smiled faintly. “Papa may be singular in his ideas; they may come + entirely from his own experience, and have nothing to do with Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mildred,” her cousin said, bowing to her gratefully. “You seem + to understand my character—and your father's quite as well!” + </p> + <p> + However, Mildred remained grave in the face of this customary pleasantry, + not because the old jest, worn round, like what preceded it, rolled in an + old groove, but because of some preoccupation of her own. Her faint smile + had disappeared, and, as her cousin's glance met hers, she looked down; + yet not before he had seen in her eyes the flicker of something like a + question—a question both poignant and dismayed. He may have + understood it; for his own smile vanished at once in favour of a + reciprocal solemnity. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Arthur,” Mrs. Palmer said, “Mildred is always a good cousin. She + and I stand by you, even if you do stay away from us for weeks and weeks.” + Then, observing that he appeared to be so occupied with a bunch of iced + grapes upon his plate that he had not heard her, she began to talk to her + husband, asking him what was “going on down-town.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur continued to eat his grapes, but he ventured to look again at + Mildred after a few moments. She, also, appeared to be occupied with a + bunch of grapes though she ate none, and only pulled them from their + stems. She sat straight, her features as composed and pure as those of a + new marble saint in a cathedral niche; yet her downcast eyes seemed to + conceal many thoughts; and her cousin, against his will, was more aware of + what these thoughts might be than of the leisurely conversation between + her father and mother. All at once, however, he heard something that + startled him, and he listened—and here was the effect of all Alice's + forefendings; he listened from the first with a sinking heart. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Palmer, mildly amused by what he was telling his wife, had just spoken + the words, “this Virgil Adams.” What he had said was, “this Virgil Adams—that's + the man's name. Queer case.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you?” Mrs. Palmer inquired, not much interested. + </p> + <p> + “Alfred Lamb,” her husband answered. “He was laughing about his father, at + the club. You see the old gentleman takes a great pride in his judgment of + men, and always boasted to his sons that he'd never in his life made a + mistake in trusting the wrong man. Now Alfred and James Albert, Junior, + think they have a great joke on him; and they've twitted him so much about + it he'll scarcely speak to them. From the first, Alfred says, the old + chap's only repartee was, 'You wait and you'll see!' And they've asked him + so often to show them what they're going to see that he won't say anything + at all!” + </p> + <p> + “He's a funny old fellow,” Mrs. Palmer observed. “But he's so shrewd I + can't imagine his being deceived for such a long time. Twenty years, you + said?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, longer than that, I understand. It appears when this man—this + Adams—was a young clerk, the old gentleman trusted him with one of + his business secrets, a glue process that Mr. Lamb had spent some money to + get hold of. The old chap thought this Adams was going to have quite a + future with the Lamb concern, and of course never dreamed he was + dishonest. Alfred says this Adams hasn't been of any real use for years, + and they should have let him go as dead wood, but the old gentleman + wouldn't hear of it, and insisted on his being kept on the payroll; so + they just decided to look on it as a sort of pension. Well, one morning + last March the man had an attack of some sort down there, and Mr. Lamb got + his own car out and went home with him, himself, and worried about him and + went to see him no end, all the time he was ill.” + </p> + <p> + “He would,” Mrs. Palmer said, approvingly. “He's a kind-hearted creature, + that old man.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband laughed. “Alfred says he thinks his kind-heartedness is about + cured! It seems that as soon as the man got well again he deliberately + walked off with the old gentleman's glue secret. Just calmly stole it! + Alfred says he believes that if he had a stroke in the office now, + himself, his father wouldn't lift a finger to help him!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Palmer repeated the name to herself thoughtfully. “'Adams'—'Virgil + Adams.' You said his name was Virgil Adams?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at her daughter. “Why, you know who that is, Mildred,” she + said, casually. “It's that Alice Adams's father, isn't it? Wasn't his name + Virgil Adams?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it is,” Mildred said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Palmer turned toward her husband. “You've seen this Alice Adams here. + Mr. Lamb's pet swindler must be her father.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Palmer passed a smooth hand over his neat gray hair, which was not + disturbed by this effort to stimulate recollection. “Oh, yes,” he said. + “Of course—certainly. Quite a good-looking girl—one of + Mildred's friends. How queer!” + </p> + <p> + Mildred looked up, as if in a little alarm, but did not speak. Her mother + set matters straight. “Fathers ARE amusing,” she said smilingly to + Russell, who was looking at her, though how fixedly she did not notice; + for she turned from him at once to enlighten her husband. “Every girl who + meets Mildred, and tries to push the acquaintance by coming here until the + poor child has to hide, isn't a FRIEND of hers, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + Mildred's eyes were downcast again, and a faint colour rose in her cheeks. + “Oh, I shouldn't put it quite that way about Alice Adams,” she said, in a + low voice. “I saw something of her for a time. She's not unattractive in a + way.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Palmer settled the whole case of Alice carelessly. “A pushing sort of + girl,” she said. “A very pushing little person.” + </p> + <p> + “I——” Mildred began; and, after hesitating, concluded, “I + rather dropped her.” + </p> + <p> + “Fortunate you've done so,” her father remarked, cheerfully. “Especially + since various members of the Lamb connection are here frequently. They + mightn't think you'd show great tact in having her about the place.” He + laughed, and turned to his cousin. “All this isn't very interesting to + poor Arthur. How terrible people are with a newcomer in a town; they talk + as if he knew all about everybody!” + </p> + <p> + “But we don't know anything about these queer people, ourselves,” said + Mrs. Palmer. “We know something about the girl, of course—she used + to be a bit too conspicuous, in fact! However, as you say, we might find a + subject more interesting for Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled whimsically upon the young man. “Tell the truth,” she said. + “Don't you fairly detest going into business with that tyrant yonder?” + </p> + <p> + “What? Yes—I beg your pardon!” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “You were right,” Mrs. Palmer said to her husband. “You've bored him so, + talking about thievish clerks, he can't even answer an honest question.” + </p> + <p> + But Russell was beginning to recover his outward composure. “Try me + again,” he said. “I'm afraid I was thinking of something else.” + </p> + <p> + This was the best he found to say. There was a part of him that wanted to + protest and deny, but he had not heat enough, in the chill that had come + upon him. Here was the first “mention” of Alice, and with it the reason + why it was the first: Mr. Palmer had difficulty in recalling her, and she + happened to be spoken of, only because her father's betrayal of a + benefactor's trust had been so peculiarly atrocious that, in the view of + the benefactor's family, it contained enough of the element of humour to + warrant a mild laugh at a club. There was the deadliness of the story: its + lack of malice, even of resentment. Deadlier still were Mrs. Palmer's + phrases: “a pushing sort of girl,” “a very pushing little person,” and + “used to be a bit TOO conspicuous, in fact.” But she spoke placidly and by + chance; being as obviously without unkindly motive as Mr. Palmer was when + he related the cause of Alfred Lamb's amusement. Her opinion of the + obscure young lady momentarily her topic had been expressed, moreover, to + her husband, and at her own table. She sat there, large, kind, serene—a + protest might astonish but could not change her; and Russell, crumpling in + his strained fingers the lace-edged little web of a napkin on his knee, + found heart enough to grow red, but not enough to challenge her. + </p> + <p> + She noticed his colour, and attributed it to the embarrassment of a + scrupulously gallant gentleman caught in a lapse of attention to a lady. + “Don't be disturbed,” she said, benevolently. “People aren't expected to + listen all the time to their relatives. A high colour's very becoming to + you, Arthur; but it really isn't necessary between cousins. You can always + be informal enough with us to listen only when you care to.” + </p> + <p> + His complexion continued to be ruddier than usual, however, throughout the + meal, and was still somewhat tinted when Mrs. Palmer rose. “The man's + bringing you cigarettes here,” she said, nodding to the two gentlemen. + “We'll give you a chance to do the sordid kind of talking we know you + really like. Afterwhile, Mildred will show you what's in bloom in the + hothouse, if you wish, Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + Mildred followed her, and, when they were alone in another of the spacious + rooms, went to a window and looked out, while her mother seated herself + near the center of the room in a gilt armchair, mellowed with old Aubusson + tapestry. Mrs. Palmer looked thoughtfully at her daughter's back, but did + not speak to her until coffee had been brought for them. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” Mildred said, not turning, “I don't care for any coffee, I + believe.” + </p> + <p> + “No?” Mrs. Palmer said, gently. “I'm afraid our good-looking cousin won't + think you're very talkative, Mildred. You spoke only about twice at lunch. + I shouldn't care for him to get the idea you're piqued because he's come + here so little lately, should you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I shouldn't,” Mildred answered in a low voice, and with that she + turned quickly, and came to sit near her mother. “But it's what I am + afraid of! Mama, did you notice how red he got?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean when he was caught not listening to a question of mine? Yes; + it's very becoming to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mama, I don't think that was the reason. I don't think it was because he + wasn't listening, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “No?” + </p> + <p> + “I think his colour and his not listening came from the same reason,” + Mildred said, and although she had come to sit near her mother, she did + not look at her. “I think it happened because you and papa——” + She stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” Mrs. Palmer said, good-naturedly, to prompt her. “Your father and I + did something embarrassing?” + </p> + <p> + “Mama, it was because of those things that came out about Alice Adams.” + </p> + <p> + “How could that bother Arthur? Does he know her?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember?” the daughter asked. “The day after my dance I + mentioned how odd I thought it was in him—I was a little + disappointed in him. I'd been seeing that he met everybody, of course, but + she was the only girl HE asked to meet; and he did it as soon as he + noticed her. I hadn't meant to have him meet her—in fact, I was + rather sorry I'd felt I had to ask her, because she oh, well, she's the + sort that 'tries for the new man,' if she has half a chance; and sometimes + they seem quite fascinated—for a time, that is. I thought Arthur was + above all that; or at the very least I gave him credit for being too + sophisticated.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Mrs. Palmer said, thoughtfully. “I remember now that you spoke of + it. You said it seemed a little peculiar, but of course it really wasn't: + a 'new man' has nothing to go by, except his own first impressions. You + can't blame poor Arthur—she's quite a piquant looking little person. + You think he's seen something of her since then?” + </p> + <p> + Mildred nodded slowly. “I never dreamed such a thing till yesterday, and + even then I rather doubted it—till he got so red, just now! I was + surprised when he asked to meet her, but he just danced with her once and + didn't mention her afterward; I forgot all about it—in fact, I + virtually forgot all about HER. I'd seen quite a little of her——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mrs. Palmer. “She did keep coming here!” + </p> + <p> + “But I'd just about decided that it really wouldn't do,” Mildred went on. + “She isn't—well, I didn't admire her.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” her mother assented, and evidently followed a direct connection of + thought in a speech apparently irrelevant. “I understand the young Malone + wants to marry Henrietta. I hope she won't; he seems rather a gross type + of person.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's just one,” Mildred said. “I don't know that he and Alice Adams + were ever engaged—she never told me so. She may not have been + engaged to any of them; she was just enough among the other girls to get + talked about—and one of the reasons I felt a little inclined to be + nice to her was that they seemed to be rather edging her out of the + circle. It wasn't long before I saw they were right, though. I happened to + mention I was going to give a dance and she pretended to take it as a + matter of course that I meant to invite her brother—at least, I + thought she pretended; she may have really believed it. At any rate, I had + to send him a card; but I didn't intend to be let in for that sort of + thing again, of course. She's what you said, 'pushing'; though I'm awfully + sorry you said it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't I have said it, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I didn't say 'shouldn't.'” Mildred explained, gravely. “I meant + only that I'm sorry it happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but why?” + </p> + <p> + “Mama”—Mildred turned to her, leaning forward and speaking in a + lowered voice—“Mama, at first the change was so little it seemed as + if Arthur hardly knew it himself. He'd been lovely to me always, and he + was still lovely to me but—oh, well, you've understood—after + my dance it was more as if it was just his nature and his training to be + lovely to me, as he would be to everyone a kind of politeness. He'd never + said he CARED for me, but after that I could see he didn't. It was clear—after + that. I didn't know what had happened; I couldn't think of anything I'd + done. Mama—it was Alice Adams.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Palmer set her little coffee-cup upon the table beside her, calmly + following her own motion with her eyes, and not seeming to realize with + what serious entreaty her daughter's gaze was fixed upon her. Mildred + repeated the last sentence of her revelation, and introduced a stress of + insistence. + </p> + <p> + “Mama, it WAS Alice Adams!” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Palmer declined to be greatly impressed, so far as her appearance + went, at least; and to emphasize her refusal, she smiled indulgently. + “What makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Henrietta told me yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + At this Mrs. Palmer permitted herself to laugh softly aloud. “Good + heavens! Is Henrietta a soothsayer? Or is she Arthur's particular + confidante?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Ella Dowling told her.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Palmer's laughter continued. “Now we have it!” she exclaimed. “It's a + game of gossip: Arthur tells Ella, Ella tells Henrietta, and Henrietta + tells——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't laugh, please, mama,” Mildred begged. “Of course Arthur didn't tell + anybody. It's roundabout enough, but it's true. I know it! I hadn't quite + believed it, but I knew it was true when he got so red. He looked—oh, + for a second or so he looked—stricken! He thought I didn't notice + it. Mama, he's been to see her almost every evening lately. They take long + walks together. That's why he hasn't been here.” + </p> + <p> + Of Mrs. Palmer's laughter there was left only her indulgent smile, which + she had not allowed to vanish. “Well, what of it?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Mama!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mrs. Palmer. “What of it?” + </p> + <p> + “But don't you see?” Mildred's well-tutored voice, though modulated and + repressed even in her present emotion, nevertheless had a tendency to + quaver. “It's true. Frank Dowling was going to see her one evening and he + saw Arthur sitting on the stoop with her, and didn't go in. And Ella used + to go to school with a girl who lives across the street from here. She + told Ella——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I understand,” Mrs. Palmer interrupted. “Suppose he does go there. My + dear, I said, 'What of it?'” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see what you mean, mama. I'm so afraid he might think we knew + about it, and that you and papa said those things about her and her father + on that account—as if we abused them because he goes there instead + of coming here.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” Mrs. Palmer rose, went to a window, and, turning there, stood + with her back to it, facing her daughter and looking at her cheerfully. + “Nonsense, my dear! It was perfectly clear that she was mentioned by + accident, and so was her father. What an extraordinary man! If Arthur + makes friends with people like that, he certainly knows better than to + expect to hear favourable opinions of them. Besides, it's only a little + passing thing with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mama! When he goes there almost every——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Mrs. Palmer said, dryly. “It seems to me I've heard somewhere that + other young men have gone there 'almost every!' She doesn't last, + apparently. Arthur's gallant, and he's impressionable—but he's + fastidious, and fastidiousness is always the check on impressionableness. + A girl belongs to her family, too—and this one does especially, it + strikes me! Arthur's very sensible; he sees more than you'd think.” + </p> + <p> + Mildred looked at her hopefully. “Then you don't believe he's likely to + imagine we said those things of her in any meaning way?” + </p> + <p> + At this, Mrs. Palmer laughed again. “There's one thing you seem not to + have noticed, Mildred.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to have escaped your attention that he never said a word.” + </p> + <p> + “Mightn't that mean——?” Mildred began, but she stopped. + </p> + <p> + “No, it mightn't,” her mother replied, comprehending easily. “On the + contrary, it might mean that instead of his feeling it too deeply to + speak, he was getting a little illumination.” + </p> + <p> + Mildred rose and came to her. “WHY do you suppose he never told us he went + there? Do you think he's—do you think he's pleased with her, and yet + ashamed of it? WHY do you suppose he's never spoken of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that,” Mrs. Palmer said,—“that might possibly be her own doing. + If it is, she's well paid by what your father and I said, because we + wouldn't have said it if we'd known that Arthur——” She checked + herself quickly. Looking over her daughter's shoulder, she saw the two + gentlemen coming from the corridor toward the wide doorway of the room; + and she greeted them cheerfully. “If you've finished with each other for a + while,” she added, “Arthur may find it a relief to put his thoughts on + something prettier than a trust company—and more fragrant.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur came to Mildred. + </p> + <p> + “Your mother said at lunch that perhaps you'd——” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say 'perhaps,' Arthur,” Mrs. Palmer interrupted, to correct him. + “I said she would. If you care to see and smell those lovely things out + yonder, she'll show them to you. Run along, children!” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, glancing from a window, she saw them come from the + hothouses and slowly cross the lawn. Arthur had a fine rose in his + buttonhole and looked profoundly thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + That morning and noon had been warm, though the stirrings of a feeble + breeze made weather not flagrantly intemperate; but at about three o'clock + in the afternoon there came out of the southwest a heat like an affliction + sent upon an accursed people, and the air was soon dead of it. Dripping + negro ditch-diggers whooped with satires praising hell and hot weather, as + the tossing shovels flickered up to the street level, where sluggish male + pedestrians carried coats upon hot arms, and fanned themselves with straw + hats, or, remaining covered, wore soaked handkerchiefs between scalp and + straw. Clerks drooped in silent, big department stores, stenographers in + offices kept as close to electric fans as the intervening bulk of their + employers would let them; guests in hotels left the lobbies and went to + lie unclad upon their beds; while in hospitals the patients murmured + querulously against the heat, and perhaps against some noisy motorist who + strove to feel the air by splitting it, not troubled by any foreboding + that he, too, that hour next week, might need quiet near a hospital. The + “hot spell” was a true spell, one upon men's spirits; for it was so hot + that, in suburban outskirts, golfers crept slowly back over the low + undulations of their club lands, abandoning their matches and returning to + shelter. + </p> + <p> + Even on such a day, sizzling work had to be done, as in winter. There were + glowing furnaces to be stoked, liquid metals to be poured; but such tasks + found seasoned men standing to them; and in all the city probably no brave + soul challenged the heat more gamely than Mrs. Adams did, when, in a + corner of her small and fiery kitchen, where all day long her hired + African immune cooked fiercely, she pressed her husband's evening clothes + with a hot iron. No doubt she risked her life, but she risked it + cheerfully in so good and necessary a service for him. She would have + given her life for him at any time, and both his and her own for her + children. + </p> + <p> + Unconscious of her own heroism, she was surprised to find herself rather + faint when she finished her ironing. However, she took heart to believe + that the clothes looked better, in spite of one or two scorched places; + and she carried them upstairs to her husband's room before increasing + blindness forced her to grope for the nearest chair. Then, trying to rise + and walk, without having sufficiently recovered, she had to sit down + again; but after a little while she was able to get upon her feet; and, + keeping her hand against the wall, moved successfully to the door of her + own room. Here she wavered; might have gone down, had she not been + stimulated by the thought of how much depended upon her;—she made a + final great effort, and floundered across the room to her bureau, where + she kept some simple restoratives. They served her need, or her faith in + them did; and she returned to her work. + </p> + <p> + She went down the stairs, keeping a still tremulous hand upon the rail; + but she smiled brightly when Alice looked up from below, where the + woodwork was again being tormented with superfluous attentions. + </p> + <p> + “Alice, DON'T!” her mother said, commiseratingly. “You did all that this + morning and it looks lovely. What's the use of wearing yourself out on it? + You ought to be lying down, so's to look fresh for to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't you better lie down yourself?” the daughter returned. “Are you + ill, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. What in the world makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “You look pretty pale,” Alice said, and sighed heavily. “It makes me + ashamed, having you work so hard—for me.” + </p> + <p> + “How foolish! I think it's fun, getting ready to entertain a little again, + like this. I only wish it hadn't turned so hot: I'm afraid your poor + father'll suffer—his things are pretty heavy, I noticed. Well, it'll + do him good to bear something for style's sake this once, anyhow!” She + laughed, and coming to Alice, bent down and kissed her. “Dearie,” she + said, tenderly, “wouldn't you please slip upstairs now and take just a + little teeny nap to please your mother?” + </p> + <p> + But Alice responded only by moving her head slowly, in token of refusal. + </p> + <p> + “Do!” Mrs. Adams urged. “You don't want to look worn out, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll LOOK all right,” Alice said, huskily. “Do you like the way I've + arranged the furniture now? I've tried all the different ways it'll go.” + </p> + <p> + “It's lovely,” her mother said, admiringly. “I thought the last way you + had it was pretty, too. But you know best; I never knew anybody with so + much taste. If you'd only just quit now, and take a little rest——” + </p> + <p> + “There'd hardly be time, even if I wanted to; it's after five but I + couldn't; really, I couldn't. How do you think we can manage about Walter—to + see that he wears his evening things, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams pondered. “I'm afraid he'll make a lot of objections, on + account of the weather and everything. I wish we'd had a chance to tell + him last night or this morning. I'd have telephoned to him this afternoon + except—well, I scarcely like to call him up at that place, since + your father——” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not, mama.” + </p> + <p> + “If Walter gets home late,” Mrs. Adams went on, “I'll just slip out and + speak to him, in case Mr. Russell's here before he comes. I'll just tell + him he's got to hurry and get his things on.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he won't come home to dinner,” Alice suggested, rather hopefully. + “Sometimes he doesn't.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I think he'll be here. When he doesn't come he usually telephones by + this time to say not to wait for him; he's very thoughtful about that. + Well, it really is getting late: I must go and tell her she ought to be + preparing her fillet. Dearie, DO rest a little.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd much better do that yourself,” Alice called after her, but Mrs. + Adams shook her head cheerily, not pausing on her way to the fiery + kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Alice continued her useless labours for a time; then carried her bucket to + the head of the cellar stairway, where she left it upon the top step; and, + closing the door, returned to the “living-room;” Again she changed the + positions of the old plush rocking-chairs, moving them into the corners + where she thought they might be least noticeable; and while thus engaged + she was startled by a loud ringing of the door-bell. For a moment her face + was panic-stricken, and she stood staring, then she realized that Russell + would not arrive for another hour, at the earliest, and recovering her + equipoise, went to the door. + </p> + <p> + Waiting there, in a languid attitude, was a young coloured woman, with a + small bundle under her arm and something malleable in her mouth. “Listen,” + she said. “You folks expectin' a coloured lady?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Alice. “Especially not at the front door.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” the coloured woman said again. “Listen. Say, listen. Ain't they + another coloured lady awready here by the day? Listen. Ain't Miz Malena + Burns here by the day this evenin'? Say, listen. This the number house she + give ME.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you the waitress?” Alice asked, dismally. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm, if Malena here.” + </p> + <p> + “Malena is here,” Alice said, and hesitated; but she decided not to send + the waitress to the back door; it might be a risk. She let her in. “What's + your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? I'm name' Gertrude. Miss Gertrude Collamus.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you bring a cap and apron?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude took the little bundle from under her arm. “Yes'm. I'm all fix'.” + </p> + <p> + “I've already set the table,” Alice said. “I'll show you what we want + done.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way to the dining-room, and, after offering some instruction + there, received by Gertrude with languor and a slowly moving jaw, she took + her into the kitchen, where the cap and apron were put on. The effect was + not fortunate; Gertrude's eyes were noticeably bloodshot, an affliction + made more apparent by the white cap; and Alice drew her mother apart, + whispering anxiously, + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose it's too late to get someone else?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid it is,” Mrs. Adams said. “Malena says it was hard enough to + get HER! You have to pay them so much that they only work when they feel + like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mama, could you ask her to wear her cap straighter? Every time she moves + her head she gets it on one side, and her skirt's too long behind and too + short in front—and oh, I've NEVER seen such FEET!” Alice laughed + desolately. “And she MUST quit that terrible chewing!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; I'll get to work with her. I'll straighten her out all I can, + dearie; don't worry.” Mrs. Adams patted her daughter's shoulder + encouragingly. “Now YOU can't do another thing, and if you don't run and + begin dressing you won't be ready. It'll only take me a minute to dress, + myself, and I'll be down long before you will. Run, darling! I'll look + after everything.” + </p> + <p> + Alice nodded vaguely, went up to her room, and, after only a moment with + her mirror, brought from her closet the dress of white organdie she had + worn the night when she met Russell for the first time. She laid it + carefully upon her bed, and began to make ready to put it on. Her mother + came in, half an hour later, to “fasten” her. + </p> + <p> + “I'M all dressed,” Mrs. Adams said, briskly. “Of course it doesn't matter. + He won't know what the rest of us even look like: How could he? I know I'm + an old SIGHT, but all I want is to look respectable. Do I?” + </p> + <p> + “You look like the best woman in the world; that's all!” Alice said, with + a little gulp. + </p> + <p> + Her mother laughed and gave her a final scrutiny. “You might use just a + tiny bit more colour, dearie—I'm afraid the excitement's made you a + little pale. And you MUST brighten up! There's sort of a look in your eyes + as if you'd got in a trance and couldn't get out. You've had it all day. I + must run: your father wants me to help him with his studs. Walter hasn't + come yet, but I'll look after him; don't worry, And you better HURRY, + dearie, if you're going to take any time fixing the flowers on the table.” + </p> + <p> + She departed, while Alice sat at the mirror again, to follow her advice + concerning a “tiny bit more colour.” Before she had finished, her father + knocked at the door, and, when she responded, came in. He was dressed in + the clothes his wife had pressed; but he had lost substantially in weight + since they were made for him; no one would have thought that they had been + pressed. They hung from him voluminously, seeming to be the clothes of a + larger man. + </p> + <p> + “Your mother's gone downstairs,” he said, in a voice of distress. + </p> + <p> + “One of the buttonholes in my shirt is too large and I can't keep the dang + thing fastened. <i>I</i> don't know what to do about it! I only got one + other white shirt, and it's kind of ruined: I tried it before I did this + one. Do you s'pose you could do anything?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll see,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “My collar's got a frayed edge,” he complained, as she examined his + troublesome shirt. “It's a good deal like wearing a saw; but I expect + it'll wilt down flat pretty soon, and not bother me long. I'm liable to + wilt down flat, myself, I expect; I don't know as I remember any such hot + night in the last ten or twelve years.” He lifted his head and sniffed the + flaccid air, which was laden with a heavy odour. “My, but that smell is + pretty strong!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Stand still, please, papa,” Alice begged him. “I can't see what's the + matter if you move around. How absurd you are about your old glue smell, + papa! There isn't a vestige of it, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean glue,” he informed her. “I mean cabbage. Is that + fashionable now, to have cabbage when there's company for dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “That isn't cabbage, papa. It's Brussels sprouts.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it? I don't mind it much, because it keeps that glue smell off me, + but it's fairly strong. I expect you don't notice it so much because you + been in the house with it all along, and got used to it while it was + growing.” + </p> + <p> + “It is pretty dreadful,” Alice said. “Are all the windows open + downstairs?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go down and see, if you'll just fix that hole up for me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I can't,” she said. “Not unless you take your shirt off and + bring it to me. I'll have to sew the hole smaller.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, I'll go ask your mother to——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Alice. “She's got everything on her hands. Run and take it off. + Hurry, papa; I've got to arrange the flowers on the table before he + comes.” + </p> + <p> + He went away, and came back presently, half undressed, bringing the shirt. + “There's ONE comfort,” he remarked, pensively, as she worked. “I've got + that collar off—for a while, anyway. I wish I could go to table like + this; I could stand it a good deal better. Do you seem to be making any + headway with the dang thing?” + </p> + <p> + “I think probably I can——” + </p> + <p> + Downstairs the door-bell rang, and Alice's arms jerked with the shock. + </p> + <p> + “Golly!” her father said. “Did you stick your finger with that fool + needle?” + </p> + <p> + She gave him a blank stare. “He's come!” + </p> + <p> + She was not mistaken, for, upon the little veranda, Russell stood facing + the closed door at last. However, it remained closed for a considerable + time after he rang. Inside the house the warning summons of the bell was + immediately followed by another sound, audible to Alice and her father as + a crash preceding a series of muffled falls. Then came a distant voice, + bitter in complaint. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord!” said Adams. “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + Alice went to the top of the front stairs, and her mother appeared in the + hall below. + </p> + <p> + “Mama!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams looked up. “It's all right,” she said, in a loud whisper. + “Gertrude fell down the cellar stairs. Somebody left a bucket there, and——” + She was interrupted by a gasp from Alice, and hastened to reassure her. + “Don't worry, dearie. She may limp a little, but——” + </p> + <p> + Adams leaned over the banisters. “Did she break anything?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” his wife whispered. “No. She seems upset and angry about it, more + than anything else; but she's rubbing herself, and she'll be all right in + time to bring in the little sandwiches. Alice! Those flowers!” + </p> + <p> + “I know, mama. But——” + </p> + <p> + “Hurry!” Mrs. Adams warned her. “Both of you hurry! I MUST let him in!” + </p> + <p> + She turned to the door, smiling cordially, even before she opened it. “Do + come right in, Mr. Russell,” she said, loudly, lifting her voice for + additional warning to those above. “I'm SO glad to receive you informally, + this way, in our own little home. There's a hat-rack here under the + stairway,” she continued, as Russell, murmuring some response, came into + the hall. “I'm afraid you'll think it's almost TOO informal, my coming to + the door, but unfortunately our housemaid's just had a little accident—oh, + nothing to mention! I just thought we better not keep you waiting any + longer. Will you step into our living-room, please?” + </p> + <p> + She led the way between the two small columns, and seated herself in one + of the plush rocking-chairs, selecting it because Alice had once pointed + out that the chairs, themselves, were less noticeable when they had people + sitting in them. “Do sit down, Mr. Russell; it's so very warm it's really + quite a trial just to stand up!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said, as he took a seat. “Yes. It is quite warm.” And this + seemed to be the extent of his responsiveness for the moment. He was + grave, rather pale; and Mrs. Adams's impression of him, as she formed it + then, was of “a distinguished-looking young man, really elegant in the + best sense of the word, but timid and formal when he first meets you.” She + beamed upon him, and used with everything she said a continuous + accompaniment of laughter, meaningless except that it was meant to convey + cordiality. “Of course we DO have a great deal of warm weather,” she + informed him. “I'm glad it's so much cooler in the house than it is + outdoors.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. “It is pleasanter indoors.” And, stopping with this single + untruth, he permitted himself the briefest glance about the room; then his + eyes returned to his smiling hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Most people make a great fuss about hot weather,” she said. “The only + person I know who doesn't mind the heat the way other people do is Alice. + She always seems as cool as if we had a breeze blowing, no matter how hot + it is. But then she's so amiable she never minds anything. It's just her + character. She's always been that way since she was a little child; always + the same to everybody, high and low. I think character's the most + important thing in the world, after all, don't you, Mr. Russell?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, solemnly; and touched his bedewed white forehead with a + handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it is,” she agreed with herself, never failing to continue her + murmur of laughter. “That's what I've always told Alice; but she never + sees anything good in herself, and she just laughs at me when I praise + her. She sees good in everybody ELSE in the world, no matter how unworthy + they are, or how they behave toward HER; but she always underestimates + herself. From the time she was a little child she was always that way. + When some other little girl would behave selfishly or meanly toward her, + do you think she'd come and tell me? Never a word to anybody! The little + thing was too proud! She was the same way about school. The teachers had + to tell me when she took a prize; she'd bring it home and keep it in her + room without a word about it to her father and mother. Now, Walter was + just the other way. Walter would——” But here Mrs. Adams + checked herself, though she increased the volume of her laughter. “How + silly of me!” she exclaimed. “I expect you know how mothers ARE, though, + Mr. Russell. Give us a chance and we'll talk about our children forever! + Alice would feel terribly if she knew how I've been going on about her to + you.” + </p> + <p> + In this Mrs. Adams was right, though she did not herself suspect it, and + upon an almost inaudible word or two from him she went on with her topic. + “Of course my excuse is that few mothers have a daughter like Alice. I + suppose we all think the same way about our children, but SOME of us must + be right when we feel we've got the best. Don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Yes, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure <i>I</i> am!” she laughed. “I'll let the others speak for + themselves.” She paused reflectively. “No; I think a mother knows when + she's got a treasure in her family. If she HASN'T got one, she'll pretend + she has, maybe; but if she has, she knows it. I certainly know <i>I</i> + have. She's always been what people call 'the joy of the household'—always + cheerful, no matter what went wrong, and always ready to smooth things + over with some bright, witty saying. You must be sure not to TELL we've + had this little chat about her—she'd just be furious with me—but + she IS such a dear child! You won't tell her, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, and again applied the handkerchief to his forehead for an + instant. “No, I'll——” He paused, and finished lamely: “I'll—not + tell her.” + </p> + <p> + Thus reassured, Mrs. Adams set before him some details of her daughter's + popularity at sixteen, dwelling upon Alice's impartiality among her young + suitors: “She never could BEAR to hurt their feelings, and always treated + all of them just alike. About half a dozen of them were just BOUND to + marry her! Naturally, her father and I considered any such idea + ridiculous; she was too young, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Thus the mother went on with her biographical sketches, while the pale + young man sat facing her under the hard overhead light of a white globe, + set to the ceiling; and listened without interrupting. She was glad to + have the chance to tell him a few things about Alice he might not have + guessed for himself, and, indeed, she had planned to find such an + opportunity, if she could; but this was getting to be altogether too much + of one, she felt. As time passed, she was like an actor who must improvise + to keep the audience from perceiving that his fellow-players have missed + their cues; but her anxiety was not betrayed to the still listener; she + had a valiant soul. + </p> + <p> + Alice, meanwhile, had arranged her little roses on the table in as many + ways, probably, as there were blossoms; and she was still at it when her + father arrived in the dining-room by way of the back stairs and the + kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “It's pulled out again,” he said. “But I guess there's no help for it now; + it's too late, and anyway it lets some air into me when it bulges. I can + sit so's it won't be noticed much, I expect. Isn't it time you quit + bothering about the looks of the table? Your mother's been talking to him + about half an hour now, and I had the idea he came on your account, not + hers. Hadn't you better go and——” + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute.” Alice said, piteously. “Do YOU think it looks all right?” + </p> + <p> + “The flowers? Fine! Hadn't you better leave 'em the way they are, though?” + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute,” she begged again. “Just ONE minute, papa!” And she + exchanged a rose in front of Russell's plate for one that seemed to her a + little larger. + </p> + <p> + “You better come on,” Adams said, moving to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Just ONE more second, papa.” She shook her head, lamenting. “Oh, I wish + we'd rented some silver!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because so much of the plating has rubbed off a lot of it. JUST a second, + papa.” And as she spoke she hastily went round the table, gathering the + knives and forks and spoons that she thought had their plating best + preserved, and exchanging them for more damaged pieces at Russell's place. + “There!” she sighed, finally. + </p> + <p> + “Now I'll come.” But at the door she paused to look back dubiously, over + her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter now?” + </p> + <p> + “The roses. I believe after all I shouldn't have tried that vine effect; I + ought to have kept them in water, in the vase. It's so hot, they already + begin to look a little wilted, out on the dry tablecloth like that. I + believe I'll——” + </p> + <p> + “Why, look here, Alice!” he remonstrated, as she seemed disposed to turn + back. “Everything'll burn up on the stove if you keep on——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” she said, “the vase was terribly ugly; I can't do any better. + We'll go in.” But with her hand on the door-knob she paused. “No, papa. We + mustn't go in by this door. It might look as if——” + </p> + <p> + “As if what?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” she said. “Let's go the other way.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see what difference it makes,” he grumbled, but nevertheless + followed her through the kitchen, and up the back stairs then through the + upper hallway. At the top of the front stairs she paused for a moment, + drawing a deep breath; and then, before her father's puzzled eyes, a + transformation came upon her. + </p> + <p> + Her shoulders, like her eyelids, had been drooping, but now she threw her + head back: the shoulders straightened, and the lashes lifted over + sparkling eyes; vivacity came to her whole body in a flash; and she + tripped down the steps, with her pretty hands rising in time to the + lilting little tune she had begun to hum. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the stairs, one of those pretty hands extended itself at + full arm's length toward Russell, and continued to be extended until it + reached his own hand as he came to meet her. “How terrible of me!” she + exclaimed. “To be so late coming down! And papa, too—I think you + know each other.” + </p> + <p> + Her father was advancing toward the young man, expecting to shake hands + with him, but Alice stood between them, and Russell, a little flushed, + bowed to him gravely over her shoulder, without looking at him; whereupon + Adams, slightly disconcerted, put his hands in his pockets and turned to + his wife. + </p> + <p> + “I guess dinner's more'n ready,” he said. “We better go sit down.” + </p> + <p> + But she shook her head at him fiercely, “Wait!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “What for? For Walter?” + </p> + <p> + “No; he can't be coming,” she returned, hurriedly, and again warned him by + a shake of her head. “Be quiet!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well——” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down!” + </p> + <p> + He was thoroughly mystified, but obeyed her gesture and went to the + rocking-chair in the opposite corner, where he sat down, and, with an + expression of meek inquiry, awaited events. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Alice prattled on: “It's really not a fault of mine, being + tardy. The shameful truth is I was trying to hurry papa. He's + incorrigible: he stays so late at his terrible old factory—terrible + new factory, I should say. I hope you don't HATE us for making you dine + with us in such fearful weather! I'm nearly dying of the heat, myself, so + you have a fellow-sufferer, if that pleases you. Why is it we always bear + things better if we think other people have to stand them, too?” And she + added, with an excited laugh: “SILLY of us, don't you think?” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude had just made her entrance from the dining-room, bearing a tray. + She came slowly, with an air of resentment; and her skirt still needed + adjusting, while her lower jaw moved at intervals, though not now upon any + substance, but reminiscently, of habit. She halted before Adams, facing + him. + </p> + <p> + He looked plaintive. “What you want o' me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + For response, she extended the tray toward him with a gesture of + indifference; but he still appeared to be puzzled. “What in the world——?” + he began, then caught his wife's eye, and had presence of mind enough to + take a damp and plastic sandwich from the tray. “Well, I'll TRY one,” he + said, but a moment later, as he fulfilled this promise, an expression of + intense dislike came upon his features, and he would have returned the + sandwich to Gertrude. However, as she had crossed the room to Mrs. Adams + he checked the gesture, and sat helplessly, with the sandwich in his hand. + He made another effort to get rid of it as the waitress passed him, on her + way back to the dining-room, but she appeared not to observe him, and he + continued to be troubled by it. + </p> + <p> + Alice was a loyal daughter. “These are delicious, mama,” she said; and + turning to Russell, “You missed it; you should have taken one. Too bad we + couldn't have offered you what ought to go with it, of course, but——” + </p> + <p> + She was interrupted by the second entrance of Gertrude, who announced, + “Dinner serve',” and retired from view. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” Adams said, rising from his chair, with relief. “That's + good! Let's go see if we can eat it.” And as the little group moved toward + the open door of the dining-room he disposed of his sandwich by dropping + it in the empty fireplace. + </p> + <p> + Alice, glancing back over her shoulder, was the only one who saw him, and + she shuddered in spite of herself. Then, seeing that he looked at her + entreatingly, as if he wanted to explain that he was doing the best he + could, she smiled upon him sunnily, and began to chatter to Russell again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + Alice kept her sprightly chatter going when they sat down, though the + temperature of the room and the sight of hot soup might have discouraged a + less determined gayety. Moreover, there were details as unpropitious as + the heat: the expiring roses expressed not beauty but pathos, and what + faint odour they exhaled was no rival to the lusty emanations of the + Brussels sprouts; at the head of the table, Adams, sitting low in his + chair, appeared to be unable to flatten the uprising wave of his starched + bosom; and Gertrude's manner and expression were of a recognizable + hostility during the long period of vain waiting for the cups of soup to + be emptied. Only Mrs. Adams made any progress in this direction; the + others merely feinting, now and then lifting their spoons as if they + intended to do something with them. + </p> + <p> + Alice's talk was little more than cheerful sound, but, to fill a desolate + interval, served its purpose; and her mother supported her with + ever-faithful cooings of applausive laughter. “What a funny thing weather + is!” the girl ran on. “Yesterday it was cool—angels had charge of it—and + to-day they had an engagement somewhere else, so the devil saw his chance + and started to move the equator to the North Pole; but by the time he got + half-way, he thought of something else he wanted to do, and went off; and + left the equator here, right on top of US! I wish he'd come back and get + it!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Alice dear!” her mother cried, fondly. “What an imagination! Not a + very pious one, I'm afraid Mr. Russell might think, though!” Here she gave + Gertrude a hidden signal to remove the soup; but, as there was no + response, she had to make the signal more conspicuous. Gertrude was + leaning against the wall, her chin moving like a slow pendulum, her + streaked eyes fixed mutinously upon Russell. Mrs. Adams nodded several + times, increasing the emphasis of her gesture, while Alice talked briskly; + but the brooding waitress continued to brood. A faint snap of the fingers + failed to disturb her; nor was a covert hissing whisper of avail, and Mrs. + Adams was beginning to show signs of strain when her daughter relieved + her. + </p> + <p> + “Imagine our trying to eat anything so hot as soup on a night like this!” + Alice laughed. “What COULD have been in the cook's mind not to give us + something iced and jellied instead? Of course it's because she's + equatorial, herself, originally, and only feels at home when Mr. Satan + moves it north.” She looked round at Gertrude, who stood behind her. “Do + take this dreadful soup away!” + </p> + <p> + Thus directly addressed, Gertrude yielded her attention, though + unwillingly, and as if she decided only by a hair's weight not to revolt, + instead. However, she finally set herself in slow motion; but overlooked + the supposed head of the table, seeming to be unaware of the sweltering + little man who sat there. As she disappeared toward the kitchen with but + three of the cups upon her tray he turned to look plaintively after her, + and ventured an attempt to recall her. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he said, in a low voice. “Here, you!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Virgil?” his wife asked. + </p> + <p> + “What's her name?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams gave him a glance of sudden panic, and, seeing that the guest + of the evening was not looking at her, but down at the white cloth before + him, she frowned hard, and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately Alice was not observing her mother, and asked, innocently: + “What's whose name, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, this young darky woman,” he explained. “She left mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” Alice laughed. “There's hope for you, papa. She hasn't gone + forever!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that,” he said, not content with this impulsive + assurance. “She LOOKED like she is.” And his remark, considered as a + prediction, had begun to seem warranted before Gertrude's return with + china preliminary to the next stage of the banquet. + </p> + <p> + Alice proved herself equal to the long gap, and rattled on through it with + a spirit richly justifying her mother's praise of her as “always ready to + smooth things over”; for here was more than long delay to be smoothed + over. She smoothed over her father and mother for Russell; and she + smoothed over him for them, though he did not know it, and remained + unaware of what he owed her. With all this, throughout her prattlings, the + girl's bright eyes kept seeking his with an eager gayety, which but little + veiled both interrogation and entreaty—as if she asked: “Is it too + much for you? Can't you bear it? Won't you PLEASE bear it? I would for + you. Won't you give me a sign that it's all right?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her but fleetingly, and seemed to suffer from the heat, in + spite of every manly effort not to wipe his brow too often. His colour, + after rising when he greeted Alice and her father, had departed, leaving + him again moistly pallid; a condition arising from discomfort, no doubt, + but, considered as a decoration, almost poetically becoming to him. Not + less becoming was the faint, kindly smile, which showed his wish to + express amusement and approval; and yet it was a smile rather strained and + plaintive, as if he, like Adams, could only do the best he could. + </p> + <p> + He pleased Adams, who thought him a fine young man, and decidedly the + quietest that Alice had ever shown to her family. In her father's opinion + this was no small merit; and it was to Russell's credit, too, that he + showed embarrassment upon this first intimate presentation; here was an + applicant with both reserve and modesty. “So far, he seems to be first + rate a mighty fine young man,” Adams thought; and, prompted by no wish to + part from Alice but by reminiscences of apparent candidates less pleasing, + he added, “At last!” + </p> + <p> + Alice's liveliness never flagged. Her smoothing over of things was an + almost continuous performance, and had to be. Yet, while she chattered + through the hot and heavy courses, the questions she asked herself were as + continuous as the performance, and as poignant as what her eyes seemed to + be asking Russell. Why had she not prevailed over her mother's fear of + being “skimpy?” Had she been, indeed, as her mother said she looked, “in a + trance?” But above all: What was the matter with HIM? What had happened? + For she told herself with painful humour that something even worse than + this dinner must be “the matter with him.” + </p> + <p> + The small room, suffocated with the odour of boiled sprouts, grew hotter + and hotter as more and more food appeared, slowly borne in, between + deathly long waits, by the resentful, loud-breathing Gertrude. And while + Alice still sought Russell's glance, and read the look upon his face a + dozen different ways, fearing all of them; and while the straggling little + flowers died upon the stained cloth, she felt her heart grow as heavy as + the food, and wondered that it did not die like the roses. + </p> + <p> + With the arrival of coffee, the host bestirred himself to make known a + hospitable regret, “By George!” he said. “I meant to buy some cigars.” He + addressed himself apologetically to the guest. “I don't know what I was + thinking about, to forget to bring some home with me. I don't use 'em + myself—unless somebody hands me one, you might say. I've always been + a pipe-smoker, pure and simple, but I ought to remembered for kind of an + occasion like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Russell said. “I'm not smoking at all lately; but when I do, + I'm like you, and smoke a pipe.” + </p> + <p> + Alice started, remembering what she had told him when he overtook her on + her way from the tobacconist's; but, after a moment, looking at him, she + decided that he must have forgotten it. If he had remembered, she thought, + he could not have helped glancing at her. On the contrary, he seemed more + at ease, just then, than he had since they sat down, for he was favouring + her father with a thoughtful attention as Adams responded to the + introduction of a man's topic into the conversation at last. “Well, Mr. + Russell, I guess you're right, at that. I don't say but what cigars may be + all right for a man that can afford 'em, if he likes 'em better than a + pipe, but you take a good old pipe now——” + </p> + <p> + He continued, and was getting well into the eulogium customarily provoked + by this theme, when there came an interruption: the door-bell rang, and he + paused inquiringly, rather surprised. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams spoke to Gertrude in an undertone: + </p> + <p> + “Just say, 'Not at home.'” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “If it's callers, just say we're not at home.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude spoke out freely: “You mean you astin' me to 'tend you' front do' + fer you?” + </p> + <p> + She seemed both incredulous and affronted, but Mrs. Adams persisted, + though somewhat apprehensively. “Yes. Hurry—uh—please. Just + say we're not at home if you please.” + </p> + <p> + Again Gertrude obviously hesitated between compliance and revolt, and + again the meeker course fortunately prevailed with her. She gave Mrs. + Adams a stare, grimly derisive, then departed. When she came back she + said: + </p> + <p> + “He say he wait.” + </p> + <p> + “But I told you to tell anybody we were not at home,” Mrs Adams returned. + “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Say he name Mr. Law.” + </p> + <p> + “We don't know any Mr. Law.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm; he know you. Say he anxious to speak Mr. Adams. Say he wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him Mr. Adams is engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on a minute,” Adams intervened. “Law? No. I don't know any Mr. Law. + You sure you got the name right?” + </p> + <p> + “Say he name Law,” Gertrude replied, looking at the ceiling to express her + fatigue. “Law. 'S all he tell me; 's all I know.” + </p> + <p> + Adams frowned. “Law,” he said. “Wasn't it maybe 'Lohr?'” + </p> + <p> + “Law,” Gertrude repeated. “'S all he tell me; 's all I know.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he look like?” + </p> + <p> + “He ain't much,” she said. “'Bout you' age; got brustly white moustache, + nice eye-glasses.” + </p> + <p> + “It's Charley Lohr!” Adams exclaimed. “I'll go see what he wants.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Virgil,” his wife remonstrated, “do finish your coffee; he might + stay all evening. Maybe he's come to call.” + </p> + <p> + Adams laughed. “He isn't much of a caller, I expect. Don't worry: I'll + take him up to my room.” And turning toward Russell, “Ah—if you'll + just excuse me,” he said; and went out to his visitor. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone, Mrs. Adams finished her coffee, and, having glanced + intelligently from her guest to her daughter, she rose. “I think perhaps I + ought to go and shake hands with Mr. Lohr, myself,” she said, adding in + explanation to Russell, as she reached the door, “He's an old friend of my + husband's and it's a very long time since he's been here.” + </p> + <p> + Alice nodded and smiled to her brightly, but upon the closing of the door, + the smile vanished; all her liveliness disappeared; and with this change + of expression her complexion itself appeared to change, so that her rouge + became obvious, for she was pale beneath it. However, Russell did not see + the alteration, for he did not look at her; and it was but a momentary + lapse the vacation of a tired girl, who for ten seconds lets herself look + as she feels. Then she shot her vivacity back into place as by some + powerful spring. + </p> + <p> + “Penny for your thoughts!” she cried, and tossed one of the wilted roses + at him, across the table. “I'll bid more than a penny; I'll bid tuppence—no, + a poor little dead rose a rose for your thoughts, Mr. Arthur Russell! What + are they?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “I'm afraid I haven't any.” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not,” she said. “Who could have thoughts in weather like + this? Will you EVER forgive us?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Making you eat such a heavy dinner—I mean LOOK at such a heavy + dinner, because you certainly didn't do more than look at it—on such + a night! But the crime draws to a close, and you can begin to cheer up!” + She laughed gaily, and, rising, moved to the door. “Let's go in the other + room; your fearful duty is almost done, and you can run home as soon as + you want to. That's what you're dying to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” he said in a voice so feeble that she laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” she cried. “I hadn't realized it was THAT bad!” + </p> + <p> + For this, though he contrived to laugh, he seemed to have no verbal retort + whatever; but followed her into the “living-room,” where she stopped and + turned, facing him. + </p> + <p> + “Has it really been so frightful?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course not. Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course yes, though, you mean!” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. It's been most kind of your mother and father and you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” she said, “you've never once looked at me for more than a + second at a time the whole evening? And it seemed to me I looked rather + nice to-night, too!” + </p> + <p> + “You always do,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you know,” she returned; and then stepping closer to him, + spoke with gentle solicitude: “Tell me: you're really feeling wretchedly, + aren't you? I know you've got a fearful headache, or something. Tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “You are ill—I'm sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “On your word?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm really quite all right.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you are——” she began; and then, looking at him with a + desperate sweetness, as if this were her last resource to rouse him, + “What's the matter, little boy?” she said with lisping tenderness. “Tell + auntie!” + </p> + <p> + It was a mistake, for he seemed to flinch, and to lean backward, however, + slightly. She turned away instantly, with a flippant lift and drop of both + hands. “Oh, my dear!” she laughed. “I won't eat you!” + </p> + <p> + And as the discomfited young man watched her, seeming able to lift his + eyes, now that her back was turned, she went to the front door and pushed + open the screen. “Let's go out on the porch,” she said. “Where we belong!” + </p> + <p> + Then, when he had followed her out, and they were seated, “Isn't this + better?” she asked. “Don't you feel more like yourself out here?” + </p> + <p> + He began a murmur: “Not at——” + </p> + <p> + But she cut him off sharply: “Please don't say 'Not at all' again!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “You do seem sorry about something,” she said. “What is it? Isn't it time + you were telling me what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Indeed nothing's the matter. Of course one IS rather affected by + such weather as this. It may make one a little quieter than usual, of + course.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed, and let the tired muscles of her face rest. Under the hard + lights, indoors, they had served her until they ached, and it was a luxury + to feel that in the darkness no grimacings need call upon them. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if you won't tell me——” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I can only assure you there's nothing to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what an ugly little house it is,” she said. “Maybe it was the + furniture—or mama's vases that upset you. Or was it mama herself—or + papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing 'upset' me.” + </p> + <p> + At that she uttered a monosyllable of doubting laughter. “I wonder why you + say that.” + </p> + <p> + “Because it's so.” + </p> + <p> + “No. It's because you're too kind, or too conscientious, or too + embarrassed—anyhow too something—to tell me.” She leaned + forward, elbows on knees and chin in hands, in the reflective attitude she + knew how to make graceful. “I have a feeling that you're not going to tell + me,” she said, slowly. “Yes—even that you're never going to tell me. + I wonder—I wonder——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? What do you wonder?” + </p> + <p> + “I was just thinking—I wonder if they haven't done it, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” she went on, still slowly, and in a voice of reflection, “I + wonder who HAS been talking about me to you, after all? Isn't that it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at——” he began, but checked himself and substituted + another form of denial. “Nothing is 'it.'” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How curious!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because all evening you've been so utterly different.” + </p> + <p> + “But in this weather——” + </p> + <p> + “No. That wouldn't make you afraid to look at me all evening!” + </p> + <p> + “But I did look at you. Often.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Not really a LOOK.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm looking at you now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—in the dark!” she said. “No—the weather might make you + even quieter than usual, but it wouldn't strike you so nearly dumb. No—and + it wouldn't make you seem to be under such a strain—as if you + thought only of escape!” + </p> + <p> + “But I haven't——” + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't,” she interrupted, gently. “There's nothing you have to + escape from, you know. You aren't committed to—to this friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry you think——” he began, but did not complete the + fragment. + </p> + <p> + She took it up. “You're sorry I think you're so different, you mean to + say, don't you? Never mind: that's what you did mean to say, but you + couldn't finish it because you're not good at deceiving.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” he protested, feebly. “I'm not deceiving. I'm——” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” she said again. “You're sorry I think you're so different—and + all in one day—since last night. Yes, your voice SOUNDS sorry, too. + It sounds sorrier than it would just because of my thinking something you + could change my mind about in a minute so it means you're sorry you ARE + different.” + </p> + <p> + “No—I——” + </p> + <p> + But disregarding the faint denial, “Never mind,” she said. “Do you + remember one night when you told me that nothing anybody else could do + would ever keep you from coming here? That if you—if you left me it + would be because I drove you away myself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, huskily. “It was true.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am,” he answered in a low voice, but with conviction. + </p> + <p> + “Then——” She paused. “Well—but I haven't driven you + away.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you've gone,” she said, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Do I seem so stupid as all that?” + </p> + <p> + “You know what I mean.” She leaned back in her chair again, and her hands, + inactive for once, lay motionless in her lap. When she spoke it was in a + rueful whisper: + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if I HAVE driven you away?” + </p> + <p> + “You've done nothing—nothing at all,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder——” she said once more, but she stopped. In her mind + she was going back over their time together since the first meeting—fragments + of talk, moments of silence, little things of no importance, little things + that might be important; moonshine, sunshine, starlight; and her thoughts + zigzagged among the jumbling memories; but, as if she made for herself a + picture of all these fragments, throwing them upon the canvas haphazard, + she saw them all just touched with the one tainting quality that gave them + coherence, the faint, false haze she had put over this friendship by her + own pretendings. And, if this terrible dinner, or anything, or everything, + had shown that saffron tint in its true colour to the man at her side, + last night almost a lover, then she had indeed of herself driven him away, + and might well feel that she was lost. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know?” she said, suddenly, in a clear, loud voice. “I have the + strangest feeling. I feel as if I were going to be with you only about + five minutes more in all the rest of my life!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” he said. “Of course I'm coming to see you—often. I——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she interrupted. “I've never had a feeling like this before. It's—it's + just SO; that's all! You're GOING—why, you're never coming here + again!” She stood up, abruptly, beginning to tremble all over. “Why, it's + FINISHED, isn't it?” she said, and her trembling was manifest now in her + voice. “Why, it's all OVER, isn't it? Why, yes!” + </p> + <p> + He had risen as she did. “I'm afraid you're awfully tired and nervous,” he + said. “I really ought to be going.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of COURSE you ought,” she cried, despairingly. “There's nothing else + for you to do. When anything's spoiled, people CAN'T do anything but run + away from it. So good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + “At least,” he returned, huskily, “we'll only—only say good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as moving to go, he stumbled upon the veranda steps, “Your HAT!” she + cried. “I'd like to keep it for a souvenir, but I'm afraid you need it!” + </p> + <p> + She ran into the hall and brought his straw hat from the chair where he + had left it. “You poor thing!” she said, with quavering laughter. “Don't + you know you can't go without your hat?” + </p> + <p> + Then, as they faced each other for the short moment which both of them + knew would be the last of all their veranda moments, Alice's broken + laughter grew louder. “What a thing to say!” she cried. “What a romantic + parting—talking about HATS!” + </p> + <p> + Her laughter continued as he turned away, but other sounds came from + within the house, clearly audible with the opening of a door upstairs—a + long and wailing cry of lamentation in the voice of Mrs. Adams. Russell + paused at the steps, uncertain, but Alice waved to him to go on. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't bother,” she said. “We have lots of that in this funny little + old house! Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + And as he went down the steps, she ran back into the house and closed the + door heavily behind her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + Her mother's wailing could still be heard from overhead, though more + faintly; and old Charley Lohr was coming down the stairs alone. + </p> + <p> + He looked at Alice compassionately. “I was just comin' to suggest maybe + you'd excuse yourself from your company,” he said. “Your mother was bound + not to disturb you, and tried her best to keep you from hearin' how she's + takin' on, but I thought probably you better see to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll come. What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “<i>I</i> only stepped over to offer my sympathy and + services, as it were. <i>I</i> thought of course you folks knew all about + it. Fact is, it was in the evening paper—just a little bit of an + item on the back page, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + He coughed. “Well, it ain't anything so terrible,” he said. “Fact is, your + brother Walter's got in a little trouble—well, I suppose you might + call it quite a good deal of trouble. Fact is, he's quite considerable + short in his accounts down at Lamb and Company.” + </p> + <p> + Alice ran up the stairs and into her father's room, where Mrs. Adams threw + herself into her daughter's arms. “Is he gone?” she sobbed. “He didn't + hear me, did he? I tried so hard——” + </p> + <p> + Alice patted the heaving shoulders her arms enclosed. “No, no,” she said. + “He didn't hear you—it wouldn't have mattered—he doesn't + matter anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, POOR Walter!” The mother cried. “Oh, the POOR boy! Poor, poor Walter! + Poor, poor, poor, POOR——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, dear, hush!” Alice tried to soothe her, but the lament could not be + abated, and from the other side of the room a repetition in a different + spirit was as continuous. Adams paced furiously there, pounding his fist + into his left palm as he strode. “The dang boy!” he said. “Dang little + fool! Dang idiot! Dang fool! Whyn't he TELL me, the dang little fool?” + </p> + <p> + “He DID!” Mrs. Adams sobbed. “He DID tell you, and you wouldn't GIVE it to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “He DID, did he?” Adams shouted at her. “What he begged me for was money + to run away with! He never dreamed of putting back what he took. What the + dangnation you talking about—accusing me!” + </p> + <p> + “He NEEDED it,” she said. “He needed it to run away with! How could he + expect to LIVE, after he got away, if he didn't have a little money? Oh, + poor, poor, POOR Walter! Poor, poor, poor——” + </p> + <p> + She went back to this repetition; and Adams went back to his own, then + paused, seeing his old friend standing in the hallway outside the open + door. + </p> + <p> + “Ah—I'll just be goin', I guess, Virgil,” Lohr said. “I don't see as + there's any use my tryin' to say any more. I'll do anything you want me + to, you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute,” Adams said, and, groaning, came and went down the stairs + with him. “You say you didn't see the old man at all?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't know a thing about what he's going to do,” Lohr said, as they + reached the lower floor. “Not a thing. But look here, Virgil, I don't see + as this calls for you and your wife to take on so hard about—anyhow + not as hard as the way you've started.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Adams gulped. “It always seems that way to the other party that's + only looking on!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, I know that, of course,” old Charley returned, soothingly. “But + look here, Virgil: they may not catch the boy; they didn't even seem to be + sure what train he made, and if they do get him, why, the ole man might + decide not to prosecute if——” + </p> + <p> + “HIM?” Adams cried, interrupting. “Him not prosecute? Why, that's what + he's been waiting for, all along! He thinks my boy and me both cheated + him! Why, he was just letting Walter walk into a trap! Didn't you say + they'd been suspecting him for some time back? Didn't you say they'd been + watching him and were just about fixing to arrest him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” said Lohr; “but you can't tell, especially if you raise the + money and pay it back.” + </p> + <p> + “Every cent!” Adams vociferated. “Every last penny! I can raise it—I + GOT to raise it! I'm going to put a loan on my factory to-morrow. Oh, I'll + get it for him, you tell him! Every last penny!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, ole feller, you just try and get quieted down some now.” Charley + held out his hand in parting. “You and your wife just quiet down some. You + AIN'T the healthiest man in the world, you know, and you already been + under quite some strain before this happened. You want to take care of + yourself for the sake of your wife and that sweet little girl upstairs, + you know. Now, good-night,” he finished, stepping out upon the veranda. + “You send for me if there's anything I can do.” + </p> + <p> + “Do?” Adams echoed. “There ain't anything ANYBODY can do!” And then, as + his old friend went down the path to the sidewalk, he called after him, + “You tell him I'll pay him every last cent! Every last, dang, dirty + PENNY!” + </p> + <p> + He slammed the door and went rapidly up the stairs, talking loudly to + himself. “Every dang, last, dirty penny! Thinks EVERYBODY in this family + wants to steal from him, does he? Thinks we're ALL yellow, does he? I'll + show him!” And he came into his own room vociferating, “Every last, dang, + dirty penny!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams had collapsed, and Alice had put her upon his bed, where she + lay tossing convulsively and sobbing, “Oh, POOR Walter!” over and over, + but after a time she varied the sorry tune. “Oh, poor Alice!” she moaned, + clinging to her daughter's hand. “Oh, poor, POOR Alice to have THIS come + on the night of your dinner—just when everything seemed to be going + so well—at last—oh, poor, poor, POOR——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” Alice said, sharply. “Don't say 'poor Alice!' I'm all right.” + </p> + <p> + “You MUST be!” her mother cried, clutching her. “You've just GOT to be! + ONE of us has got to be all right—surely God wouldn't mind just ONE + of us being all right—that wouldn't hurt Him——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush, mother! Hush!” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Adams only clutched her the more tightly. “He seemed SUCH a nice + young man, dearie! He may not see this in the paper—Mr. Lohr said it + was just a little bit of an item—he MAY not see it, dearie——” + </p> + <p> + Then her anguish went back to Walter again; and to his needs as a fugitive—she + had meant to repair his underwear, but had postponed doing so, and her + neglect now appeared to be a detail as lamentable as the calamity itself. + She could neither be stilled upon it, nor herself exhaust its urgings to + self-reproach, though she finally took up another theme temporarily. Upon + an unusually violent outbreak of her husband's, in denunciation of the + runaway, she cried out faintly that he was cruel; and further wearied her + broken voice with details of Walter's beauty as a baby, and of his bedtime + pieties throughout his infancy. + </p> + <p> + So the hot night wore on. Three had struck before Mrs. Adams was got to + bed; and Alice, returning to her own room, could hear her father's bare + feet thudding back and forth after that. “Poor papa!” she whispered in + helpless imitation of her mother. “Poor papa! Poor mama! Poor Walter! Poor + all of us!” + </p> + <p> + She fell asleep, after a time, while from across the hall the bare feet + still thudded over their changeless route; and she woke at seven, hearing + Adams pass her door, shod. In her wrapper she ran out into the hallway and + found him descending the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Papa!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush,” he said, and looked up at her with reddened eyes. “Don't wake your + mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't,” she whispered. “How about you? You haven't slept any at all!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did. I got some sleep. I'm going over to the works now. I got to + throw some figures together to show the bank. Don't worry: I'll get things + fixed up. You go back to bed. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” she bade him sharply. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “You've got to have some breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't want 'ny.” + </p> + <p> + “You wait!” she said, imperiously, and disappeared to return almost at + once. “I can cook in my bedroom slippers,” she explained, “but I don't + believe I could in my bare feet!” + </p> + <p> + Descending softly, she made him wait in the dining-room until she brought + him toast and eggs and coffee. “Eat!” she said. “And I'm going to + telephone for a taxicab to take you, if you think you've really got to + go.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm going to walk—I WANT to walk.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head anxiously. “You don't look able. You've walked all + night.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't,” he returned. “I tell you I got some sleep. I got all I + wanted anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “But, papa——” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he interrupted, looking up at her suddenly and setting down his + cup of coffee. “Look here! What about this Mr. Russell? I forgot all about + him. What about him?” + </p> + <p> + Her lip trembled a little, but she controlled it before she spoke. “Well, + what about him, papa?” she asked, calmly enough. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we could hardly——” Adams paused, frowning heavily. “We + could hardly expect he wouldn't hear something about all this.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; of course he'll hear it, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what?” she asked, gently. + </p> + <p> + “You don't think he'd be the—the cheap kind it'd make a difference + with, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; he isn't cheap. It won't make any difference with him.” + </p> + <p> + Adams suffered a profound sigh to escape him. “Well—I'm glad of + that, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “The difference,” she explained—“the difference was made without his + hearing anything about Walter. He doesn't know about THAT yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what does he know about?” + </p> + <p> + “Only,” she said, “about me.” + </p> + <p> + “What you mean by that, Alice?” he asked, helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” she said. “It's nothing beside the real trouble we're in—I'll + tell you some time. You eat your eggs and toast; you can't keep going on + just coffee.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't eat any eggs and toast,” he objected, rising. “I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then wait till I can bring you something else.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, irritably. “I won't do it! I don't want any dang food! And + look here”—he spoke sharply to stop her, as she went toward the + telephone—“I don't want any dang taxi, either! You look after your + mother when she wakes up. I got to be at WORK!” + </p> + <p> + And though she followed him to the front door, entreating, he could not be + stayed or hindered. He went through the quiet morning streets at a + rickety, rapid gait, swinging his old straw hat in his hands, and + whispering angrily to himself as he went. His grizzled hair, not trimmed + for a month, blew back from his damp forehead in the warm breeze; his + reddened eyes stared hard at nothing from under blinking lids; and one + side of his face twitched startlingly from time to time;—children + might have run from him, or mocked him. + </p> + <p> + When he had come into that fallen quarter his industry had partly revived + and wholly made odorous, a negro woman, leaning upon her whitewashed gate, + gazed after him and chuckled for the benefit of a gossiping friend in the + next tiny yard. “Oh, good Satan! Wha'ssa matter that ole glue man?” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Him?” the neighbour inquired. “What he do now?” + </p> + <p> + “Talkin' to his ole se'f!” the first explained, joyously. “Look like gone + distracted—ole glue man!” + </p> + <p> + Adams's legs had grown more uncertain with his hard walk, and he stumbled + heavily as he crossed the baked mud of his broad lot, but cared little for + that, was almost unaware of it, in fact. Thus his eyes saw as little as + his body felt, and so he failed to observe something that would have given + him additional light upon an old phrase that already meant quite enough + for him. + </p> + <p> + There are in the wide world people who have never learned its meaning; but + most are either young or beautifully unobservant who remain wholly unaware + of the inner poignancies the words convey: “a rain of misfortunes.” It is + a boiling rain, seemingly whimsical in its choice of spots whereon to + fall; and, so far as mortal eye can tell, neither the just nor the unjust + may hope to avoid it, or need worry themselves by expecting it. It had + selected the Adams family for its scaldings; no question. + </p> + <p> + The glue-works foreman, standing in the doorway of the brick shed, + observed his employer's eccentric approach, and doubtfully stroked a + whiskered chin. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they ain't no putticular use gettin' so upset over it,” he said, as + Adams came up. “When a thing happens, why, it happens, and that's all + there is to it. When a thing's so, why, it's so. All you can do about it + is think if there's anything you CAN do; and that's what you better be + doin' with this case.” + </p> + <p> + Adams halted, and seemed to gape at him. “What—case?” he said, with + difficulty. “Was it in the morning papers, too?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it ain't in no morning papers. My land! It don't need to be in no + papers; look at the SIZE of it!” + </p> + <p> + “The size of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, great God!” the foreman exclaimed. “He ain't even seen it. Look! + Look yonder!” + </p> + <p> + Adams stared vaguely at the man's outstretched hand and pointing + forefinger, then turned and saw a great sign upon the facade of the big + factory building across the street. The letters were large enough to be + read two blocks away. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “AFTER THE FIFTEENTH OF NEXT MONTH + THIS BUILDING WILL BE OCCUPIED BY + THE J. A. LAMB LIQUID GLUE CO. INC.” + </pre> + <p> + A gray touring-car had just come to rest before the principal entrance of + the building, and J. A. Lamb himself descended from it. He glanced over + toward the humble rival of his projected great industry, saw his old + clerk, and immediately walked across the street and the lot to speak to + him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Adams,” he said, in his husky, cheerful voice, “how's your + glue-works?” + </p> + <p> + Adams uttered an inarticulate sound, and lifted the hand that held his hat + as if to make a protective gesture, but failed to carry it out; and his + arm sank limp at his side. The foreman, however, seemed to feel that + something ought to be said. + </p> + <p> + “Our glue-works, hell!” he remarked. “I guess we won't HAVE no glue-works + over here not very long, if we got to compete with the sized thing you got + over there!” + </p> + <p> + Lamb chuckled. “I kind of had some such notion,” he said. “You see, + Virgil, I couldn't exactly let you walk off with it like swallering a pat + o' butter, now, could I? It didn't look exactly reasonable to expect me to + let go like that, now, did it?” + </p> + <p> + Adams found a half-choked voice somewhere in his throat. “Do you—would + you step into my office a minute, Mr. Lamb?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly I'm willing to have a little talk with you,” the old + gentleman said, as he followed his former employee indoors, and he added, + “I feel a lot more like it than I did before I got THAT up, over yonder, + Virgil!” + </p> + <p> + Adams threw open the door of the rough room he called his office, having + as justification for this title little more than the fact that he had a + telephone there and a deal table that served as a desk. “Just step into + the office, please,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Lamb glanced at the desk, at the kitchen chair before it, at the + telephone, and at the partition walls built of old boards, some covered + with ancient paint and some merely weatherbeaten, the salvage of a + house-wrecker; and he smiled broadly. “So these are your offices, are + they?” he asked. “You expect to do quite a business here, I guess, don't + you, Virgil?” + </p> + <p> + Adams turned upon him a stricken and tortured face. “Have you seen Charley + Lohr since last night, Mr. Lamb?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I haven't seen Charley.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I told him to tell you,” Adams began;—“I told him I'd pay you——” + </p> + <p> + “Pay me what you expect to make out o' glue, you mean, Virgil?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Adams said, swallowing. “I mean what my boy owes you. That's what I + told Charley to tell you. I told him to tell you I'd pay you every last——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” the old gentleman interrupted, testily. “I don't know + anything about that.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm expecting to pay you,” Adams went on, swallowing again, painfully. “I + was expecting to do it out of a loan I thought I could get on my + glue-works.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman lifted his frosted eyebrows. “Oh, out o' the GLUE-works? + You expected to raise money on the glue-works, did you?” + </p> + <p> + At that, Adams's agitation increased prodigiously. “How'd you THINK I + expected to pay you?” he said. “Did you think I expected to get money on + my own old bones?” He slapped himself harshly upon the chest and legs. “Do + you think a bank'll lend money on a man's ribs and his broken-down old + knee-bones? They won't do it! You got to have some BUSINESS prospects to + show 'em, if you haven't got any property nor securities; and what + business prospects have I got now, with that sign of yours up over yonder? + Why, you don't need to make an OUNCE o' glue; your sign's fixed ME without + your doing another lick! THAT'S all you had to do; just put your sign up! + You needn't to——” + </p> + <p> + “Just let me tell you something, Virgil Adams,” the old man interrupted, + harshly. “I got just one right important thing to tell you before we talk + any further business; and that's this: there's some few men in this town + made their money in off-colour ways, but there aren't many; and those + there are have had to be a darn sight slicker than you know how to be, or + ever WILL know how to be! Yes, sir, and they none of them had the little + gumption to try to make it out of a man that had the spirit not to let + 'em, and the STRENGTH not to let 'em! I know what you thought. 'Here,' you + said to yourself, 'here's this ole fool J. A. Lamb; he's kind of worn out + and in his second childhood like; I can put it over on him, without his + ever——'” + </p> + <p> + “I did not!” Adams shouted. “A great deal YOU know about my feelings and + all what I said to myself! There's one thing I want to tell YOU, and + that's what I'm saying to myself NOW, and what my feelings are this + MINUTE!” + </p> + <p> + He struck the table a great blow with his thin fist, and shook the damaged + knuckles in the air. “I just want to tell you, whatever I did feel, I + don't feel MEAN any more; not to-day, I don't. There's a meaner man in + this world than <i>I</i> am, Mr. Lamb!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so you feel better about yourself to-day, do you, Virgil?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet I do! You worked till you got me where you want me; and I + wouldn't do that to another man, no matter what he did to me! I wouldn't——” + </p> + <p> + “What you talkin' about! How've I 'got you where I want you?'” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it plain enough?” Adams cried. “You even got me where I can't raise + the money to pay back what my boy owes you! Do you suppose anybody's fool + enough to let me have a cent on this business after one look at what you + got over there across the road?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't,” Adams echoed, hoarsely. “What's more, you knew my house + was mortgaged, and my——” + </p> + <p> + “I did not,” Lamb interrupted, angrily. “What do <i>I</i> care about your + house?” + </p> + <p> + “What's the use your talking like that?” Adams cried. “You got me where I + can't even raise the money to pay what my boy owes the company, so't I + can't show any reason to stop the prosecution and keep him out the + penitentiary. That's where you worked till you got ME!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” Lamb shouted. “You accuse me of——” + </p> + <p> + “'Accuse you?' What am I telling you? Do you think I got no EYES?” And + Adams hammered the table again. “Why, you knew the boy was weak——” + </p> + <p> + “I did not!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen: you kept him there after you got mad at my leaving the way I did. + You kept him there after you suspected him; and you had him watched; you + let him go on; just waited to catch him and ruin him!” + </p> + <p> + “You're crazy!” the old man bellowed. “I didn't know there was anything + against the boy till last night. You're CRAZY, I say!” + </p> + <p> + Adams looked it. With his hair disordered over his haggard forehead and + bloodshot eyes; with his bruised hands pounding the table and flying in a + hundred wild and absurd gestures, while his feet shuffled constantly to + preserve his balance upon staggering legs, he was the picture of a man + with a mind gone to rags. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I AM crazy!” he cried, his voice breaking and quavering. “Maybe I + am, but I wouldn't stand there and taunt a man with it if I'd done to him + what you've done to me! Just look at me: I worked all my life for you, and + what I did when I quit never harmed you—it didn't make two cents' + worth o' difference in your life and it looked like it'd mean all the + difference in the world to my family—and now look what you've DONE + to me for it! I tell you, Mr. Lamb, there never was a man looked up to + another man the way I looked up to you the whole o' my life, but I don't + look up to you any more! You think you got a fine day of it now, riding up + in your automobile to look at that sign—and then over here at my + poor little works that you've ruined. But listen to me just this one last + time!” The cracking voice broke into falsetto, and the gesticulating hands + fluttered uncontrollably. “Just you listen!” he panted. “You think I did + you a bad turn, and now you got me ruined for it, and you got my works + ruined, and my family ruined; and if anybody'd 'a' told me this time last + year I'd ever say such a thing to you I'd called him a dang liar, but I DO + say it: I say you've acted toward me like—like a—a doggone + mean—man!” + </p> + <p> + His voice, exhausted, like his body, was just able to do him this final + service; then he sank, crumpled, into the chair by the table, his chin + down hard upon his chest. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, you're crazy!” Lamb said again. “I never in the world——” + But he checked himself, staring in sudden perplexity at his accuser. “Look + here!” he said. “What's the matter of you? Have you got another of those——?” + He put his hand upon Adams's shoulder, which jerked feebly under the + touch. + </p> + <p> + The old man went to the door and called to the foreman. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he said. “Run and tell my chauffeur to bring my car over here. + Tell him to drive right up over the sidewalk and across the lot. Tell him + to hurry!” + </p> + <p> + So, it happened, the great J. A. Lamb a second time brought his former + clerk home, stricken and almost inanimate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + About five o'clock that afternoon, the old gentleman came back to Adams's + house; and when Alice opened the door, he nodded, walked into the + “living-room” without speaking; then stood frowning as if he hesitated to + decide some perplexing question. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how is he now?” he asked, finally. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor was here again a little while ago; he thinks papa's coming + through it. He's pretty sure he will.” + </p> + <p> + “Something like the way it was last spring?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of sense to it!” Lamb said, gruffly. “When he was getting well + the other time the doctor told me it wasn't a regular stroke, so to speak—this + 'cerebral effusion' thing. Said there wasn't any particular reason for + your father to expect he'd ever have another attack, if he'd take a little + care of himself. Said he could consider himself well as anybody else long + as he did that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But he didn't do it!” + </p> + <p> + Lamb nodded, sighed aloud, and crossed the room to a chair. “I guess not,” + he said, as he sat down. “Bustin' his health up over his glue-works, I + expect.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so; I guess so.” Then he looked up at her with a glimmer of + anxiety in his eyes. “Has he came to yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He's talked a little. His mind's clear; he spoke to mama and me and + to Miss Perry.” Alice laughed sadly. “We were lucky enough to get her + back, but papa didn't seem to think it was lucky. When he recognized her + he said, 'Oh, my goodness, 'tisn't YOU, is it!'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's a good sign, if he's getting a little cross. Did he—did + he happen to say anything—for instance, about me?” + </p> + <p> + This question, awkwardly delivered, had the effect of removing the girl's + pallor; rosy tints came quickly upon her cheeks. “He—yes, he did,” + she said. “Naturally, he's troubled about—about——” She + stopped. + </p> + <p> + “About your brother, maybe?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, about making up the——” + </p> + <p> + “Here, now,” Lamb said, uncomfortably, as she stopped again. “Listen, + young lady; let's don't talk about that just yet. I want to ask you: you + understand all about this glue business, I expect, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure. I only know——” + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you,” he interrupted, impatiently. “I'll tell you all about + it in two words. The process belonged to me, and your father up and walked + off with it; there's no getting around THAT much, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there?” Alice stared at him. “I think you're mistaken, Mr. Lamb. + Didn't papa improve it so that it virtually belonged to him?” + </p> + <p> + There was a spark in the old blue eyes at this. “What?” he cried. “Is that + the way he got around it? Why, in all my life I never heard of such a——” + But he left the sentence unfinished; the testiness went out of his husky + voice and the anger out of his eyes. “Well, I expect maybe that was the + way of it,” he said. “Anyhow, it's right for you to stand up for your + father; and if you think he had a right to it——” + </p> + <p> + “But he did!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “I expect so,” the old man returned, pacifically. “I expect so, probably. + Anyhow, it's a question that's neither here nor there, right now. What I + was thinking of saying—well, did your father happen to let out that + he and I had words this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we did.” He sighed and shook his head. “Your father—well, he + used some pretty hard expressions toward me, young lady. They weren't SO, + I'm glad to say, but he used 'em to me, and the worst of it was he + believed 'em. Well, I been thinking it over, and I thought I'd just have a + kind of little talk with you to set matters straight, so to speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Lamb.” + </p> + <p> + “For instance,” he said, “it's like this. Now, I hope you won't think I + mean any indelicacy, but you take your brother's case, since we got to + mention it, why, your father had the whole thing worked out in his mind + about as wrong as anybody ever got anything. If I'd acted the way your + father thought I did about that, why, somebody just ought to take me out + and shoot me! Do YOU know what that man thought?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure.” + </p> + <p> + He frowned at her, and asked, “Well, what do you think about it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she said. “I don't believe I think anything at all about + anything to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he returned; “I expect not; I expect not. You kind of look + to me as if you ought to be in bed yourself, young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you mean 'Oh, yes'; and I won't keep you long, but there's + something we got to get fixed up, and I'd rather talk to you than I would + to your mother, because you're a smart girl and always friendly; and I + want to be sure I'm understood. Now, listen.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” Alice promised, smiling faintly. + </p> + <p> + “I never even hardly noticed your brother was still working for me,” he + explained, earnestly. “I never thought anything about it. My sons sort of + tried to tease me about the way your father—about his taking up this + glue business, so to speak—and one day Albert, Junior, asked me if I + felt all right about your brother's staying there after that, and I told + him—well, I just asked him to shut up. If the boy wanted to stay + there, I didn't consider it my business to send him away on account of any + feeling I had toward his father; not as long as he did his work right—and + the report showed he did. Well, as it happens, it looks now as if he + stayed because he HAD to; he couldn't quit because he'd 'a' been found out + if he did. Well, he'd been covering up his shortage for a considerable + time—and do you know what your father practically charged me with + about that?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Lamb.” + </p> + <p> + In his resentment, the old gentleman's ruddy face became ruddier and his + husky voice huskier. “Thinks I kept the boy there because I suspected him! + Thinks I did it to get even with HIM! Do I look to YOU like a man that'd + do such a thing?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, gently. “I don't think you would.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” he exclaimed. “Nor HE wouldn't think so if he was himself; he's + known me too long. But he must been sort of brooding over this whole + business—I mean before Walter's trouble he must been taking it to + heart pretty hard for some time back. He thought I didn't think much of + him any more—and I expect he maybe wondered some what I was going to + DO—and there's nothing worse'n that state of mind to make a man + suspicious of all kinds of meanness. Well, he practically stood up there + and accused me to my face of fixing things so't he couldn't ever raise the + money to settle for Walter and ask us not to prosecute. That's the state + of mind your father's brooding got him into, young lady—charging me + with a trick like that!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” she said. “I know you'd never——” + </p> + <p> + The old man slapped his sturdy knee, angrily. “Why, that dang fool of a + Virgil Adams!” he exclaimed. “He wouldn't even give me a chance to talk; + and he got me so mad I couldn't hardly talk, anyway! He might 'a' known + from the first I wasn't going to let him walk in and beat me out of my own—that + is, he might 'a' known I wouldn't let him get ahead of me in a business + matter—not with my boys twitting me about it every few minutes! But + to talk to me the way he did this morning—well, he was out of his + head; that's all! Now, wait just a minute,” he interposed, as she seemed + about to speak. “In the first place, we aren't going to push this case + against your brother. I believe in the law, all right, and business men + got to protect themselves; but in a case like this, where restitution's + made by the family, why, I expect it's just as well sometimes to use a + little influence and let matters drop. Of course your brother'll have to + keep out o' this state; that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “But—you said——” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What'd I say?” + </p> + <p> + “You said, 'where restitution's made by the family.' That's what seemed to + trouble papa so terribly, because—because restitution couldn't——” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, it could. That's what I'm here to talk to you about.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see——” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to TELL you, ain't I?” he said, gruffly. “Just hold your horses + a minute, please.” He coughed, rose from his chair, walked up and down the + room, then halted before her. “It's like this,” he said. “After I brought + your father home, this morning, there was one of the things he told me, + when he was going for me, over yonder—it kind of stuck in my craw. + It was something about all this glue controversy not meaning anything to + me in particular, and meaning a whole heap to him and his family. Well, he + was wrong about that two ways. The first one was, it did mean a good deal + to me to have him go back on me after so many years. I don't need to say + any more about it, except just to tell you it meant quite a little more to + me than you'd think, maybe. The other way he was wrong is, that how much a + thing means to one man and how little it means to another ain't the right + way to look at a business matter.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it isn't, Mr. Lamb.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “It isn't. It's not the right way to look at anything. Yes, + and your father knows it as well as I do, when he's in his right mind; and + I expect that's one of the reasons he got so mad at me—but anyhow, I + couldn't help thinking about how much all this thing HAD maybe meant to + him;—as I say, it kind of stuck in my craw. I want you to tell him + something from me, and I want you to go and tell him right off, if he's + able and willing to listen. You tell him I got kind of a notion he was + pushed into this thing by circumstances, and tell him I've lived long + enough to know that circumstances can beat the best of us—you tell + him I said 'the BEST of us.' Tell him I haven't got a bit of feeling + against him—not any more—and tell him I came here to ask him + not to have any against me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Lamb.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I said——” The old man paused abruptly and Alice was + surprised, in a dull and tired way, when she saw that his lips had begun + to twitch and his eyelids to blink; but he recovered himself almost at + once, and continued: “I want him to remember, 'Forgive us our + transgressions, as we forgive those that transgress against us'; and if he + and I been transgressing against each other, why, tell him I think it's + time we QUIT such foolishness!” + </p> + <p> + He coughed again, smiled heartily upon her, and walked toward the door; + then turned back to her with an exclamation: “Well, if I ain't an old + fool!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I forgot what we were just talking about! Your father wants to + settle for Walter's deficit. Tell him we'll be glad to accept it; but of + course we don't expect him to clean the matter up until he's able to talk + business again.” + </p> + <p> + Alice stared at him blankly enough for him to perceive that further + explanations were necessary. “It's like this,” he said. “You see, if your + father decided to keep his works going over yonder, I don't say but he + might give us some little competition for a time, 'specially as he's got + the start on us and about ready for the market. Then I was figuring we + could use his plant—it's small, but it'd be to our benefit to have + the use of it—and he's got a lease on that big lot; it may come in + handy for us if we want to expand some. Well, I'd prefer to make a deal + with him as quietly as possible—-no good in every Tom, Dick and + Harry hearing about things like this—but I figured he could sell out + to me for a little something more'n enough to cover the mortgage he put on + this house, and Walter's deficit, too—THAT don't amount to much in + dollars and cents. The way I figure it, I could offer him about + ninety-three hundred dollars as a total—or say ninety-three hundred + and fifty—and if he feels like accepting, why, I'll send a + confidential man up here with the papers soon's your father's able to look + 'em over. You tell him, will you, and ask him if he sees his way to + accepting that figure?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Alice said; and now her own lips twitched, while her eyes filled so + that she saw but a blurred image of the old man, who held out his hand in + parting. “I'll tell him. Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + He shook her hand hastily. “Well, let's just keep it kind of quiet,” he + said, at the door. “No good in every Tom, Dick and Harry knowing all what + goes on in town! You telephone me when your papa's ready to go over the + papers—and call me up at my house to-night, will you? Let me hear + how he's feeling?” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” she said, and through her grateful tears gave him a smile almost + radiant. “He'll be better, Mr. Lamb. We all will.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + One morning, that autumn, Mrs. Adams came into Alice's room, and found her + completing a sober toilet for the street; moreover, the expression + revealed in her mirror was harmonious with the business-like severity of + her attire. “What makes you look so cross, dearie?” the mother asked. + “Couldn't you find anything nicer to wear than that plain old dark dress?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe I'm cross,” the girl said, absently. “I believe I'm just + thinking. Isn't it about time?” + </p> + <p> + “Time for what?” + </p> + <p> + “Time for thinking—for me, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + Disregarding this, Mrs. Adams looked her over thoughtfully. “I can't see + why you don't wear more colour,” she said. “At your age it's becoming and + proper, too. Anyhow, when you're going on the street, I think you ought to + look just as gay and lively as you can manage. You want to show 'em you've + got some spunk!” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean about Walter's running away and the mess your father made of his + business. It would help to show 'em you're holding up your head just the + same.” + </p> + <p> + “Show whom!” + </p> + <p> + “All these other girls that——” + </p> + <p> + “Not I!” Alice laughed shortly, shaking her head. “I've quit dressing at + them, and if they saw me they wouldn't think what you want 'em to. It's + funny; but we don't often make people think what we want 'em to, mama. You + do thus and so; and you tell yourself, 'Now, seeing me do thus and so, + people will naturally think this and that'; but they don't. They think + something else—usually just what you DON'T want 'em to. I suppose + about the only good in pretending is the fun we get out of fooling + ourselves that we fool somebody.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but it wouldn't be pretending. You ought to let people see you're + still holding your head up because you ARE. You wouldn't want that Mildred + Palmer to think you're cast down about—well, you know you wouldn't + want HER not to think you're holding your head up, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “She wouldn't know whether I am or not, mama.” Alice bit her lip, then + smiled faintly as she said: + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, I'm not thinking about my head in that way—not this + morning, I'm not.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams dropped the subject casually. “Are you going down-town?” she + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Just something I want to see about. I'll tell you when I come back. + Anything you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I guess not to-day. I thought you might look for a rug, but I'd + rather go with you to select it. We'll have to get a new rug for your + father's room, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you think so, mama. I don't suppose he's ever even noticed it, + but that old rug of his—well, really!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean for him,” her mother explained, thoughtfully. “No; he don't + mind it, and he'd likely make a fuss if we changed it on his account. No; + what I meant—we'll have to put your father in Walter's room. He + won't mind, I don't expect—not much.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose not,” Alice agreed, rather sadly. “I heard the bell awhile + ago. Was it somebody about that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; just before I came upstairs. Mrs. Lohr gave him a note to me, and he + was really a very pleasant-looking young man. A VERY pleasant-looking + young man,” Mrs. Adams repeated with increased animation and a thoughtful + glance at her daughter. “He's a Mr. Will Dickson; he has a first-rate + position with the gas works, Mrs. Lohr says, and he's fully able to afford + a nice room. So if you and I double up in here, then with that young + married couple in my room, and this Mr. Dickson in your father's, we'll + just about have things settled. I thought maybe I could make one more + place at table, too, so that with the other people from outside we'd be + serving eleven altogether. You see if I have to pay this cook twelve + dollars a week—it can't be helped, I guess—well, one more + would certainly help toward a profit. Of course it's a terribly worrying + thing to see how we WILL come out. Don't you suppose we could squeeze in + one more?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it COULD be managed; yes.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams brightened. “I'm sure it'll be pleasant having that young + married couple in the house and especially this Mr. Will Dickson. He + seemed very much of a gentleman, and anxious to get settled in good + surroundings. I was very favourably impressed with him in every way; and + he explained to me about his name; it seems it isn't William, it's just + 'Will'; his parents had him christened that way. It's curious.” She + paused, and then, with an effort to seem casual, which veiled nothing from + her daughter: “It's QUITE curious,” she said again. “But it's rather + attractive and different, don't you think?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor mama!” Alice laughed compassionately. “Poor mama!” + </p> + <p> + “He is, though,” Mrs. Adams maintained. “He's very much of a gentleman, + unless I'm no judge of appearances; and it'll really be nice to have him + in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” Alice said, as she opened her door to depart. “I don't suppose + we'll mind having any of 'em as much as we thought we would. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + But her mother detained her, catching her by the arm. “Alice, you do hate + it, don't you!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” the girl said, quickly. “There wasn't anything else to do.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Adams became emotional at once: her face cried tragedy, and her voice + misfortune. “There MIGHT have been something else to do! Oh, Alice, you + gave your father bad advice when you upheld him in taking a miserable + little ninety-three hundred and fifty from that old wretch! If your + father'd just had the gumption to hold out, they'd have had to pay him + anything he asked. If he'd just had the gumption and a little manly + COURAGE——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” Alice whispered, for her mother's voice grew louder. “Hush! He'll + hear you, mama.” + </p> + <p> + “Could he hear me too often?” the embittered lady asked. “If he'd listened + to me at the right time, would we have to be taking in boarders and + sinking DOWN in the scale at the end of our lives, instead of going UP? + You were both wrong; we didn't need to be so panicky—that was just + what that old man wanted: to scare us and buy us out for nothing! If your + father'd just listened to me then, or if for once in his life he'd just + been half a MAN——” + </p> + <p> + Alice put her hand over her mother's mouth. “You mustn't! He WILL hear + you!” + </p> + <p> + But from the other side of Adams's closed door his voice came querulously. + “Oh, I HEAR her, all right!” + </p> + <p> + “You see, mama?” Alice said, and, as Mrs. Adams turned away, weeping, the + daughter sighed; then went in to speak to her father. + </p> + <p> + He was in his old chair by the table, with a pillow behind his head, but + the crocheted scarf and Mrs. Adams's wrapper swathed him no more; he wore + a dressing-gown his wife had bought for him, and was smoking his pipe. + “The old story, is it?” he said, as Alice came in. “The same, same old + story! Well, well! Has she gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Got your hat on,” he said. “Where you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going down-town on an errand of my own. Is there anything you want, + papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is.” He smiled at her. “I wish you'd sit down a while and talk + to me unless your errand——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, taking a chair near him. “I was just going down to see + about some arrangements I was making for myself. There's no hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “What arrangements for yourself, dearie?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you afterwards—after I find out something about 'em + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said, indulgently. “Keep your secrets; keep your secrets.” + He paused, drew musingly upon his pipe, and shook his head. “Funny—the + way your mother looks at things! For the matter o' that, everything's + pretty funny, I expect, if you stop to think about it. For instance, let + her say all she likes, but we were pushed right spang to the wall, if J. + A. Lamb hadn't taken it into his head to make that offer for the works; + and there's one of the things I been thinking about lately, Alice: + thinking about how funny they work out.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you think about it, papa!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've seen it happen in other people's lives, time and time again; + and now it's happened in ours. You think you're going to be pushed right + up against the wall; you can't see any way out, or any hope at all; you + think you're GONE—and then something you never counted on turns up; + and, while maybe you never do get back to where you used to be, yet + somehow you kind of squirm out of being right SPANG against the wall. You + keep on going—maybe you can't go much, but you do go a little. See + what I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I understand, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm afraid you do,” he said. “Too bad! You oughtn't to understand it + at your age. It seems to me a good deal as if the Lord really meant for + the young people to have the good times, and for the old to have the + troubles; and when anybody as young as you has trouble there's a big + mistake somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she protested. + </p> + <p> + But he persisted whimsically in this view of divine error: “Yes, it does + look a good deal that way. But of course we can't tell; we're never + certain about anything—not about anything at all. Sometimes I look + at it another way, though. Sometimes it looks to me as if a body's + troubles came on him mainly because he hadn't had sense enough to know how + not to have any—as if his troubles were kind of like a boy's getting + kept in after school by the teacher, to give him discipline, or something + or other. But, my, my! We don't learn easy!” He chuckled mournfully. “Not + to learn how to live till we're about ready to die, it certainly seems to + me dang tough!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I wouldn't brood on such a notion, papa,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “'Brood?' No!” he returned. “I just kind o' mull it over.” He chuckled + again, sighed, and then, not looking at her, he said, “That Mr. Russell—your + mother tells me he hasn't been here again—not since——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, quietly, as Adams paused. “He never came again.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but maybe——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said. “There isn't any 'maybe.' I told him good-bye that night, + papa. It was before he knew about Walter—I told you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” Adams said. “Young people are entitled to their own privacy; + I don't want to pry.” He emptied his pipe into a chipped saucer on the + table beside him, laid the pipe aside, and reverted to a former topic. + “Speaking of dying——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but we weren't!” Alice protested. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, about not knowing how to live till you're through living—and + THEN maybe not!” he said, chuckling at his own determined pessimism. “I + see I'm pretty old because I talk this way—I remember my grandmother + saying things a good deal like all what I'm saying now; I used to hear her + at it when I was a young fellow—she was a right gloomy old lady, I + remember. Well, anyhow, it reminds me: I want to get on my feet again as + soon as I can; I got to look around and find something to go into.” + </p> + <p> + Alice shook her head gently. “But, papa, he told you——” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind throwing that dang doctor up at me!” Adams interrupted, + peevishly. “He said I'd be good for SOME kind of light job—if I + could find just the right thing. 'Where there wouldn't be either any + physical or mental strain,' he said. Well, I got to find something like + that. Anyway, I'll feel better if I can just get out LOOKING for it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, papa, I'm afraid you won't find it, and you'll be disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I want to hunt around and SEE, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Alice patted his hand. “You must just be contented, papa. Everything's + going to be all right, and you mustn't get to worrying about doing + anything. We own this house; it's all clear—and you've taken care of + mama and me all our lives; now it's our turn.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir!” he said, querulously. “I don't like the idea of being the + landlady's husband around a boarding-house; it goes against my gizzard. <i>I</i> + know: makes out the bills for his wife Sunday mornings—works with a + screw-driver on somebody's bureau drawer sometimes—'tends the + furnace maybe—one the boarders gives him a cigar now and then. + That's a FINE life to look forward to! No, sir; I don't want to finish as + a landlady's husband!” + </p> + <p> + Alice looked grave; for she knew the sketch was but too accurately + prophetic in every probability. “But, papa,” she said, to console him, + “don't you think maybe there isn't such a thing as a 'finish,' after all! + You say perhaps we don't learn to live till we die but maybe that's how it + is AFTER we die, too—just learning some more, the way we do here, + and maybe through trouble again, even after that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it might be,” he sighed. “I expect so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” she said, “what's the use of talking about a 'finish?' We do + keep looking ahead to things as if they'd finish something, but when we + get TO them, they don't finish anything. They're just part of going on. + I'll tell you—I looked ahead all summer to something I was afraid + of, and I said to myself, 'Well, if that happens, I'm finished!' But it + wasn't so, papa. It did happen, and nothing's finished; I'm going on, just + the same only——” She stopped and blushed. + </p> + <p> + “Only what?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well——” She blushed more deeply, then jumped up, and, + standing before him, caught both his hands in hers. “Well, don't you + think, since we do have to go on, we ought at least to have learned some + sense about how to do it?” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at her adoringly. + </p> + <p> + “What <i>I</i> think,” he said, and his voice trembled;—“I think + you're the smartest girl in the world! I wouldn't trade you for the whole + kit-and-boodle of 'em!” + </p> + <p> + But as this folly of his threatened to make her tearful, she kissed him + hastily, and went forth upon her errand. + </p> + <p> + Since the night of the tragic-comic dinner she had not seen Russell, nor + caught even the remotest chance glimpse of him; and it was curious that + she should encounter him as she went upon such an errand as now engaged + her. At a corner, not far from that tobacconist's shop she had just left + when he overtook her and walked with her for the first time, she met him + to-day. He turned the corner, coming toward her, and they were face to + face; whereupon that engaging face of Russell's was instantly reddened, + but Alice's remained serene. + </p> + <p> + She stopped short, though; and so did he; then she smiled brightly as she + put out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Russell!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so—I'm so glad to have this—this chance,” he stammered. + “I've wanted to tell you—it's just that going into a new undertaking—this + business life—one doesn't get to do a great many things he'd like + to. I hope you'll let me call again some time, if I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do!” she said, cordially, and then, with a quick nod, went briskly + on. + </p> + <p> + She breathed more rapidly, but knew that he could not have detected it, + and she took some pride in herself for the way she had met this little + crisis. But to have met it with such easy courage meant to her something + more reassuring than a momentary pride in the serenity she had shown. For + she found that what she had resolved in her inmost heart was now really + true: she was “through with all that!” + </p> + <p> + She walked on, but more slowly, for the tobacconist's shop was not far + from her now—and, beyond it, that portal of doom, Frincke's Business + College. Already Alice could read the begrimed gilt letters of the sign; + and although they had spelled destiny never with a more painful imminence + than just then, an old habit of dramatizing herself still prevailed with + her. + </p> + <p> + There came into her mind a whimsical comparison of her fate with that of + the heroine in a French romance she had read long ago and remembered well, + for she had cried over it. The story ended with the heroine's taking the + veil after a death blow to love; and the final scene again became vivid to + Alice, for a moment. Again, as when she had read and wept, she seemed + herself to stand among the great shadows in the cathedral nave; smelled + the smoky incense on the enclosed air, and heard the solemn pulses of the + organ. She remembered how the novice's father knelt, trembling, beside a + pillar of gray stone; how the faithless lover watched and shivered behind + the statue of a saint; how stifled sobs and outcries were heard when the + novice came to the altar; and how a shaft of light struck through the + rose-window, enveloping her in an amber glow. + </p> + <p> + It was the vision of a moment only, and for no longer than a moment did + Alice tell herself that the romance provided a prettier way of taking the + veil than she had chosen, and that a faithless lover, shaking with remorse + behind a saint's statue, was a greater solace than one left on a street + corner protesting that he'd like to call some time—if he could! Her + pity for herself vanished more reluctantly; but she shook it off and tried + to smile at it, and at her romantic recollections—at all of them. + She had something important to think of. + </p> + <p> + She passed the tobacconist's, and before her was that dark entrance to the + wooden stairway leading up to Frincke's Business College—the very + doorway she had always looked upon as the end of youth and the end of + hope. + </p> + <p> + How often she had gone by here, hating the dreary obscurity of that + stairway; how often she had thought of this obscurity as something lying + in wait to obliterate the footsteps of any girl who should ascend into the + smoky darkness above! Never had she passed without those ominous + imaginings of hers: pretty girls turning into old maids “taking dictation”—old + maids of a dozen different types, yet all looking a little like herself. + </p> + <p> + Well, she was here at last! She looked up and down the street quickly, and + then, with a little heave of the shoulders, she went bravely in, under the + sign, and began to climb the wooden steps. Half-way up the shadows were + heaviest, but after that the place began to seem brighter. There was an + open window overhead somewhere, she found; and the steps at the top were + gay with sunshine. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Alice Adams, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALICE ADAMS *** + +***** This file should be named 980-h.htm or 980-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/980/ + +Produced by Charles Keller, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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