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diff --git a/old/dwnhr10.txt b/old/dwnhr10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe06f58 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/dwnhr10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8394 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Dawn O'Hara, The Girl Who Laughed +#5 in our series by Edna Ferber + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared with the use of Calera WordScan Plus 2.0 + + + + + +DAWN O'HARA +THE GIRL WHO LAUGHED + +by EDNA FERBER + + + + +TO MY DEAR MOTHER +WHO FREQUENTLY INTERRUPTS +AND TO +MY SISTER FANNIE +WHO SAYS "SH-SH-SH!" OUTSIDE MY DOOR + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I THE SMASH-UP +II MOSTLY EGGS +III GOOD As NEW +IV DAWN DEVELOPS A HEIMWEH +V THE ABSURD BECOMES SERIOUS +VI STEEPED IN GERMAN +VII BLACKIE'S PHILOSOPHY +VIII KAFFEE AND KAFFEEKUCHEN +IX THE LADY FROM VIENNA +X A TRAGEDY OF GOWNS +XI VON GERHARD SPEAKS +XII BENNIE THE CONSOLER +XIII THE TEST +XIV BENNIE AND THE CHARMING OLD MAID +XV FAREWELL TO KNAPFS' +XVI JUNE MOONLIGHT, AND A NEW BOARDING HOUSE +XVII THE SHADOW OF TERROR +XVIII PETER ORME +XIX A TURN OF THE WHEEL +XX BLACKIE'S VACATION COMES +XXI HAPPINESS + + + + +DAWN O'HARA + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +THE SMASH-UP + + +There are a number of things that are pleasanter than +being sick in a New York boarding-house when one's +nearest dearest is a married sister up in far-away +Michigan. + +Some one must have been very kind, for there were +doctors, and a blue-and-white striped nurse, and bottles +and things. There was even a vase of perky carnations-- +scarlet ones. I discovered that they had a trick of +nodding their heads, saucily. The discovery did not +appear to surprise me. + +"Howdy-do!" said I aloud to the fattest and reddest +carnation that overtopped all the rest. "How in the +world did you get in here?" + +The striped nurse (I hadn't noticed her before) rose +from some corner and came swiftly over to my bedside, +taking my wrist between her fingers. + +"I'm very well, thank you," she said, smiling, "and +I came in at the door, of course." + +"I wasn't talking to you," I snapped, crossly, "I was +speaking to the carnations; particularly to that elderly +one at the top--the fat one who keeps bowing and wagging +his head at me." + +"Oh, yes," answered the striped nurse, politely, "of +course. That one is very lively, isn't he? But suppose +we take them out for a little while now." + +She picked up the vase and carried it into the +corridor, and the carnations nodded their heads more +vigorously than ever over her shoulder. + +I heard her call softly to some one. The some one +answered with a sharp little cry that sounded like, +"Conscious!" + +The next moment my own sister Norah came quietly into +the room, and knelt at the side of my bed and took me in +her arms. It did not seem at all surprising that she +should be there, patting me with reassuring little love +pats, murmuring over me with her lips against my check, +calling me a hundred half-forgotten pet names that I had +not heard for years. But then, nothing seemed to +surprise me that surprising day. Not even the sight of +a great, red-haired, red-faced, scrubbed looking man who +strolled into the room just as Norah was in the midst of +denouncing newspapers in general, and my newspaper in +particular, and calling the city editor a slave-driver and +a beast. The big, red-haired man stood regarding us tolerantly. + +"Better, eh?" said he, not as one who asks a +question, but as though in confirmation of a thought. +Then he too took my wrist between his fingers. His touch +was very firm and cool. After that he pulled down my +eyelids and said, "H'm." Then he patted my cheek smartly +once or twice. "You'll do," he pronounced. He picked up +a sheet of paper from the table and looked it over, +keen-eyed. There followed a clinking of bottles and +glasses, a few low-spoken words to the nurse, and then, +as she left the room the big red-haired man seated +himself heavily in the chair near the bedside and rested +his great hands on his fat knees. He stared down at me +in much the same way that a huge mastiff looks at a +terrier. Finally his glance rested on my limp left hand. + +"Married, h'm?" + +For a moment the word would not come. I could hear +Norah catch her breath quickly. Then--"Yes," answered I. + +"Husband living?" I could see suspicion dawning in +his cold gray eye. + +Again the catch in Norah's throat and a little half +warning, half supplicating gesture. And again, "Yes," +said I. + +The dawn of suspicion burst into full glow. + +"Where is he?" growled the red-haired doctor. "At a +time like this?" + +I shut my eyes for a moment, too sick at heart to +resent his manner. I could feel, more than see, that Sis +was signaling him frantically. I moistened my lips and +answered him, bitterly. + +"He is in the Starkweather Hospital for the insane." + +When the red-haired man spoke again the growl was +quite gone from his voice. + +"And your home is--where?" + +"Nowhere," I replied meekly, from my pillow. But at +that Sis put her hand out quickly, as though she had been +struck, and said: + +"My home is her home." + +"Well then, take her there," he ordered, frowning, +"and keep her there as long as you can. Newspaper +reporting, h'm? In New York? That's a devil of a job +for a woman. And a husband who . . . Well, you'll have +to take a six months' course in loafing, young woman. +And at the end of that time, if you are still determined +to work, can't you pick out something easier--like taking +in scrubbing, for instance?" + +I managed a feeble smile, wishing that he would go +away quickly, so that I might sleep. He seemed to divine +my thoughts, for he disappeared into the corridor, taking +Norah with him. Their voices, low-pitched and carefully +guarded, could be heard as they conversed outside my +door. + +Norah was telling him the whole miserable business. +I wished, savagely, that she would let me tell it, if it +must be told. How could she paint the fascination of the +man who was my husband? She had never known the charm of +him as I had known it in those few brief months before +our marriage. She had never felt the caress of his +voice, or the magnetism of his strange, smoldering eyes +glowing across the smoke-dimmed city room as I had felt +them fixed on me. No one had ever known what he had +meant to the girl of twenty, with her brain full of +unspoken dreams--dreams which were all to become glorious +realities in that wonder-place, New York. + +How he had fired my country-girl imagination! He had +been the most brilliant writer on the big, brilliant +sheet--and the most dissolute. How my heart had pounded +on that first lonely day when this Wonder-Being looked up +from his desk, saw me, and strolled over to where I sat +before my typewriter! He smiled down at me, companionably. +I'm quite sure that my mouth must have been wide open with +surprise. He had been smoking a cigarette an +expensive-looking, gold-tipped one. Now he removed it +from between his lips with that hand that always shook a +little, and dropped it to the floor, crushing it lightly +with the toe of his boot. He threw back his handsome +head and sent out the last mouthful of smoke in a thin, +lazy spiral. I remember thinking what a pity it was that +he should have crushed that costly-looking cigarette, +just for me. + +"My name's Orme," he said, gravely. "Peter Orme. +And if yours isn't Shaughnessy or Burke at least, then +I'm no judge of what black hair and gray eyes stand for." + +"Then you're not," retorted I, laughing up at him, +"for it happens to be O'Hara--Dawn O'Hara, if ye plaze." + +He picked up a trifle that lay on my desk--a pencil, +perhaps, or a bit of paper--and toyed with it, absently, +as though I had not spoken. I thought he had not heard, +and I was conscious of feeling a bit embarrassed, and +very young. Suddenly he raised his smoldering eyes to +mine, and I saw that they had taken on a deeper glow. +His white, even teeth showed in a half smile. + +"Dawn O'Hara," said he, slowly, and the name had +never sounded in the least like music before, "Dawn +O'Hara. It sounds like a rose--a pink blush rose that is +deeper pink at its heart, and very sweet." + +He picked up the trifle with which he had been toying +and eyed it intently for a moment, as though his whole +mind were absorbed in it. Then he put it down, turned, +and walked slowly away. I sat staring after him like a +little simpleton, puzzled, bewildered, stunned. That had +been the beginning of it all. + +He had what we Irish call "a way wid him." I wonder +now why I did not go mad with the joy, and the pain, and +the uncertainty of it all. Never was a girl so dazzled, +so humbled, so worshiped, so neglected, so courted. He +was a creature of a thousand moods to torture one. What +guise would he wear to-day? Would he be gay, or dour, or +sullen, or teasing or passionate, or cold, or tender or +scintillating? I know that my hands were always cold, +and my cheeks were always hot, those days. + +He wrote like a modern Demosthenes, with +all political New York to quiver under his philippics. +The managing editor used to send him out on wonderful +assignments, and they used to hold the paper for his +stuff when it was late. Sometimes he would be gone for +days at a time, and when he returned the men would look +at him with a sort of admiring awe. And the city editor +would glance up from beneath his green eye-shade and call +out: + +"Say, Orme, for a man who has just wired in about a +million dollars' worth of stuff seems to me you don't +look very crisp and jaunty." + +"Haven't slept for a week," Peter Orme would growl, +and then he would brush past the men who were crowded +around him, and turn in my direction. And the old +hot-and-cold, happy, frightened, laughing, sobbing +sensation would have me by the throat again. + +Well, we were married. Love cast a glamour over his +very vices. His love of drink? A weakness which I would +transform into strength. His white hot flashes of +uncontrollable temper? Surely they would die down at my +cool, tender touch. His fits of abstraction and +irritability? Mere evidences of the genius within. Oh, +my worshiping soul was always alert with an excuse. + +And so we were married. He had quite tired +of me in less than a year, and the hand that had always +shaken a little shook a great deal now, and the fits of +abstraction and temper could be counted upon to appear +oftener than any other moods. I used to laugh, +sometimes, when I was alone, at the bitter humor of it +all. It was like a Duchess novel come to life. + +His work began to show slipshod in spots. They +talked to him about it and he laughed at them. Then, one +day, he left them in the ditch on the big story of the +McManus indictment, and the whole town scooped him, and +the managing editor told him that he must go. His lapses +had become too frequent. They would have to replace him +with a man not so brilliant, perhaps, but more reliable. + +I daren't think of his face as it looked when he came +home to the little apartment and told me. The smoldering +eyes were flaming now. His lips were flecked with a sort +of foam. I stared at him in horror. He strode over to +me, clasped his fingers about my throat and shook me as +a dog shakes a mouse. + +"Why don't you cry, eh?" he snarled. Why don't you +cry!" + +And then I did cry out at what I saw in his eyes. I +wrenched myself free, fled to my room, and locked the +door and stood against it with my hand pressed over my +heart until I heard the outer door slam and the echo of +his footsteps die away. + +Divorce! That was my only salvation. No, that would +be cowardly now. I would wait until he was on his feet +again, and then I would demand my old free life back once +more. This existence that was dragging me into the +gutter--this was not life! Life was a glorious, +beautiful thing, and I would have it yet. I laid my +plans, feverishly, and waited. He did not come back that +night, or the next, or the next, or the next. In +desperation I went to see the men at the office. No, +they had not seen him. Was there anything that they +could do? they asked. I smiled, and thanked them, and +said, oh, Peter was so absent-minded! No doubt he had +misdirected his letters, or something of the sort. And +then I went back to the flat to resume the horrible +waiting. + +One week later he turned up at the old office which +had cast him off. He sat down at his former desk and +began to write, breathlessly, as he used to in the days +when all the big stories fell to him. One of the men +reporters strolled up to him and touched him on the +shoulder, man-fashion. Peter Orme raised his head and +stared at him, and the man sprang back in terror. +The smoldering eyes had burned down to an ash. +Peter Orme was quite bereft of all reason. They took him +away that night, and I kept telling myself that it wasn't +true; that it was all a nasty dream, and I would wake up +pretty soon, and laugh about it, and tell it at the +breakfast table. + +Well, one does not seek a divorce from a husband who +is insane. The busy men on the great paper were very +kind. They would take me back on the staff. Did I think +that I still could write those amusing little human +interest stories? Funny ones, you know, with a punch in +'em. + +Oh, plenty of good stories left in me yet, I assured +them. They must remember that I was only twenty-one, +after all, and at twenty-one one does not lose the sense +of humor. + +And so I went back to my old desk, and wrote bright, +chatty letters home to Norah, and ground out very funny +stories with a punch in 'em, that the husband in the +insane asylum might be kept in comforts. With both hands +I hung on like grim death to that saving sense of humor, +resolved to make something of that miserable mess which +was my life--to make something of it yet. And now-- + +At this point in my musings there was an end +of the low-voiced conversation in the hall. Sis tiptoed +in and looked her disapproval at finding me sleepless. + +"Dawn, old girlie, this will never do. Shut your +eyes now, like a good child, and go to sleep. Guess what +that great brute of a doctor said! I may take you home +with me next week! Dawn dear, you will come, won't you? +You must! This is killing you. Don't make me go away +leaving you here. I couldn't stand it." + +She leaned over my pillow and closed my eyelids +gently with her sweet, cool fingers. "You are coming +home with me, and you shall sleep and eat, and sleep and +eat, until you are as lively as the Widow Malone, ohone, +and twice as fat. Home, Dawnie dear, where we'll forget +all about New York. Home, with me." + +I reached up uncertainly, and brought her hand down +to my lips and a great peace descended upon my sick soul. +"Home--with you," I said, like a child, and fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +MOSTLY EGGS + + +Oh, but it was clean, and sweet, and wonderfully +still, that rose-and-white room at Norah's! No street +cars to tear at one's nerves with grinding brakes and +clanging bells; no tramping of restless feet on the +concrete all through the long, noisy hours; no shrieking +midnight joy-riders; not one of the hundred sounds which +make night hideous in the city. What bliss to lie there, +hour after hour, in a delicious half-waking, +half-sleeping, wholly exquisite stupor, only rousing +myself to swallow egg-nogg No. 426, and then to flop back +again on the big, cool pillow! + +New York, with its lights, its clangor, its millions, +was only a far-away, jumbled nightmare. The office, with +its clacking typewriters, its insistent, nerve-racking +telephone bells, its systematic rush, its smoke-dimmed +city room, was but an ugly part of the dream. + +Back to that inferno of haste and scramble and +clatter? Never! Never! I resolved, drowsily. And +dropped off to sleep again. + +And the sheets. Oh, those sheets of Norah's! Why, +they were white, instead of gray! And they actually +smelled of flowers. For that matter, there were rosebuds +on the silken coverlet. It took me a week to get chummy +with that rosebud-and-down quilt. I had to explain +carefully to Norah that after a half-dozen years of +sleeping under doubtful boarding-house blankets one does +not so soon get rid of a shuddering disgust for coverings +which are haunted by the ghosts of a hundred unknown +sleepers. Those years had taught me to draw up the sheet +with scrupulous care, to turn it down, and smooth it +over, so that no contaminating and woolly blanket should +touch my skin. The habit stuck even after Norah had +tucked me in between her fragrant sheets. Automatically +my hands groped about, arranging the old protecting +barrier. + +"What's the matter, Fuss-fuss?" inquired Norah, +looking on. "That down quilt won't bite you; what an old +maid you are!" + +"Don't like blankets next to my face," I elucidated, +sleepily, "never can tell who slept under 'em last--" + +You cat!" exclaimed Norah, making a little rush at +me. "If you weren't supposed to be ill I'd +shake you! Comparing my darling rosebud quilt to your +miserable gray blankets! Just for that I'll make you eat +an extra pair of eggs." + +There never was a sister like Norah. But then, who +ever heard of a brother-in-law like Max? No woman--not +even a frazzled-out newspaper woman--could receive the +love and care that they gave me, and fail to flourish +under it. They had been Dad and Mother to me since the +day when Norah had tucked me under her arm and carried me +away from New York. Sis was an angel; a comforting, +twentieth-century angel, with white apron strings for +wings, and a tempting tray in her hands in place of the +hymn books and palm leaves that the picture-book angels +carry. She coaxed the inevitable eggs and beef into more +tempting forms than Mrs. Rorer ever guessed at. She +could disguise those two plain, nourishing articles of +diet so effectually that neither hen nor cow would have +suspected either of having once been part of her anatomy. +Once I ate halfway through a melting, fluffy, +peach-bedecked plate of something before I discovered +that it was only another egg in disguise. + +"Feel like eating a great big dinner to-day, Kidlet? +"Norah would ask in the morning as she stood at my bedside +(with a glass of egg-something in her hand, of course). + +"Eat!"--horror and disgust shuddering through my +voice--"Eat! Ugh! Don't s-s-speak of it to me. And for +pity's sake tell Frieda to shut the kitchen door when you +go down, will you? I can smell something like ugh!--like +pot roast, with gravy!" And I would turn my face to the +wall. + +Three hours later I would hear Sis coming softly up +the stairs, accompanied by a tinkling of china and glass. +I would face her, all protest. + +"Didn't I tell you, Sis, that I couldn't eat a +mouthful? Not a mouthf--um-m-m-m! How perfectly +scrumptious that looks! What's that affair in the +lettuce leaf? Oh, can't I begin on that divine-looking +pinky stuff in the tall glass? H'm? Oh, please!" + +"I thought--" Norah would begin; and then she would +snigger softly. + +"Oh, well, that was hours ago," I would explain, +loftily. "Perhaps I could manage a bite or two now." + +Whereupon I would demolish everything except the +china and doilies. + +It was at this point on the road to recovery, just +halfway between illness and health, that Norah and Max +brought the great and unsmiling Von Gerhard on the scene. +It appeared that even New York was respectfully aware of +Von Gerhard, the nerve specialist, in spite of the fact +that he lived in Milwaukee. The idea of bringing him up +to look at me occurred to Max quite suddenly. I think it +was on the evening that I burst into tears when Max +entered the room wearing a squeaky shoe. The Weeping +Walrus was a self-contained and tranquil creature +compared to me at that time. The sight of a fly on the +wall was enough to make me burst into a passion of sobs. + +"I know the boy to steady those shaky nerves of +yours, Dawn," said Max, after I had made a shamefaced +apology for my hysterical weeping, "I'm going to have Von +Gerhard up here to look at you. He can run up Sunday, +eh, Norah?" + +"Who's Von Gerhard?" I inquired, out of the depths of +my ignorance. "Anyway, I won't have him. I'll bet he +wears a Vandyke and spectacles." + +"Von Gerhard!" exclaimed Norah, indignantly. "You +ought to be thankful to have him look at you, even if he +wears goggles and a flowing beard. Why, even that +red-haired New York doctor of yours cringed and looked +impressed when I told him that Von Gerhard was +a friend of my husband's, and that they had been comrades +at Heidelberg. I must have mentioned him dozens of times +in my letters." + +"Never." + +"Queer," commented Max, "he runs up here every now +and then to spend a quiet Sunday with Norah and me and +the Spalpeens. Says it rests him. The kids swarm all +over him, and tear him limb from limb. It doesn't look +restful, but he says it's great. I think he came here +from Berlin just after you left for New York, Dawn. +Milwaukee fits him as if it had been made for him." + +"But you're not going to drag this wonderful being up +here just for me!" I protested, aghast. + +Max pointed an accusing finger at me from the +doorway. "Aren't you what the bromides call a bundle of +nerves? And isn't Von Gerhard's specialty untying just +those knots? I'll write to him to-night." + +And he did. And Von Gerhard came. The Spalpeens +watched for him, their noses flattened against the +window-pane, for it was raining. As he came up the path +they burst out of the door to meet him. From my bedroom +window I saw him come prancing up the walk like a boy, +with the two children clinging to his coat-tails, all +three quite unmindful of the rain, and yelling like +Comanches. + + +Ten minutes later he had donned his professional +dignity, entered my room, and beheld me in all my limp +and pea-green beauty. I noted approvingly that he had to +stoop a bit as he entered the low doorway, and that the +Vandyke of my prophecy was missing. + +He took my hand in his own steady, reassuring clasp. +Then he began to talk. Half an hour sped away while we +discussed New York--books--music--theatres--everything +and anything but Dawn O'Hara. I learned later that as we +chatted he was getting his story, bit by bit, from every +twitch of the eyelids, from every gesture of the hands +that had grown too thin to wear the hateful ring; from +every motion of the lips; from the color of my nails; +from each convulsive muscle; from every shadow, and +wrinkle and curve and line of my face. + +Suddenly he asked: "Are you making the proper effort +to get well? You try to conquer those jumping nerfs, +yes?" + +I glared at him. "Try! I do everything. I'd eat +woolly worms if I thought they might benefit me. If ever +a girl has minded her big sister and her doctor, that +girl is I. I've eaten everything from pate de foie gras +to raw beef, and I've drunk everything from blood to +champagne." + +"Eggs? " queried Von Gerhard, as though making a +happy suggestion. + +"Eggs!" I snorted. "Eggs! Thousands of 'em! Eggs +hard and soft boiled, poached and fried, scrambled and +shirred, eggs in beer and egg-noggs, egg lemonades and +egg orangeades, eggs in wine and eggs in milk, and eggs +au naturel. I've lapped up iron-and-wine, and whole +rivers of milk, and I've devoured rare porterhouse and +roast beef day after day for weeks. So! Eggs!" + +"Mein Himmel!" ejaculated he, fervently, "And you +still live!" A suspicion of a smile dawned in his eyes. +I wondered if he ever laughed. I would experiment. + +"Don't breathe it to a soul," I whispered, +tragically, "but eggs, and eggs alone, are turning my +love for my sister into bitterest hate. She stalks me +the whole day long, forcing egg mixtures down my +unwilling throat. She bullies me. I daren't put out my +hand suddenly without knocking over liquid refreshment in +some form, but certainly with an egg lurking in its +depths. I am so expert that I can tell an egg orangeade +from an egg lemonade at a distance of twenty yards, with +my left hand tied behind me,and one eye shut, and my feet +in a sack." + +"You can laugh, eh? Well, that iss good," commented +the grave and unsmiling one. + +"Sure," answered I, made more flippant by his +solemnity. "Surely I can laugh. For what else was my +father Irish? Dad used to say that a sense of humor was +like a shillaly--an iligent thing to have around handy, +especially when the joke's on you." + +The ghost of a twinkle appeared again in the corners +of the German blue eyes. Some fiend of rudeness seized +me. + +"Laugh!" I commanded. + +Dr. Ernst von Gerhard stiffened. "Pardon?" inquired +he, as one who is sure that he has misunderstood. + +"Laugh!" I snapped again. "I'll dare you to do it. +I'll double dare you! You dassen't!" + +But he did. After a moment's bewildered surprise he +threw back his handsome blond head and gave vent to a +great, deep infectious roar of mirth that brought the +Spalpeens tumbling up the stairs in defiance of their +mother's strict instructions. + +After that we got along beautifully. He +turned out to be quite human, beneath the outer crust of +reserve. He continued his examination only after bribing +the Spalpeens shamefully, so that even their rapacious +demands were satisfied, and they trotted off contentedly. + +There followed a process which reduced me to a +giggling heap but which Von Gerhard carried out +ceremoniously. It consisted of certain raps at my knees, +and shins, and elbows, and fingers, and certain commands +to--"look at my finger! Look at the wall! Look at my +finger! Look at the wall!" + +"So!" said Von Gerhard at last, in a tone of +finality. I sank my battered frame into the nearest +chair. "This--this newspaper work--it must cease." He +dismissed it with a wave of the hand. + +"Certainly," I said, with elaborate sarcasm. "How +should you advise me to earn my living in the future? +In the stories they paint dinner cards, don't +they? or bake angel cakes?" + +"Are you then never serious?" asked Von Gerhard, in +disapproval. + +"Never," said I. "An old, worn-out, worked-out +newspaper reporter, with a husband in the mad-house, +can't afford to be serious for a minute, because if she +were she'd go mad, too, with the hopelessness of it all." +And I buried my face in my hands. + +The room was very still for a moment. Then the great +Von Gerhard came over, and took my hands gently from my +face. "I--I do beg your pardon," he said. He looked +strangely boyish and uncomfortable as he said it. "I was +thinking only of your good. We do that, sometimes, +forgetting that circumstances may make our wishes +impossible of execution. So. You will forgive me?" + +"Forgive you? Yes,indeed," I assured him. And we shook +hands, gravely. "But that doesn't help matters much, +after all, does it?" + +"Yes, it helps. For now we understand one another, +is it not so? You say you can only write for a living. +Then why not write here at home? Surely these years of +newspaper work have given you a great knowledge of human +nature. Then too, there is your gift of humor. Surely +that is a combination which should make your work +acceptable to the magazines. Never in my life have I +seen so many magazines as here in the United States. But +hundreds! Thousands!" + +"Me!" I exploded--"A real writer lady! No more +interviews with actresses! No more slushy Sunday +specials! No more teary tales! Oh, my! +When may I begin? To-morrow? You know I brought my +typewriter with me. I've almost forgotten where the +letters are on the keyboard." + +"Wait, wait; not so fast! In a month or two, +perhaps. But first must come other things outdoor +things. Also housework." + +"Housework!" I echoed, feebly. + +"Naturlich. A little dusting, a little scrubbing, +a little sweeping, a little cooking. The finest kind of +indoor exercise. Later you may write a little--but very +little. Run and play out of doors with the children. +When I see you again you will have roses in your cheeks +like the German girls, yes?" + +"Yes," I echoed, meekly, "I wonder how Frieda will +like my elephantine efforts at assisting with the +housework. If she gives notice, Norah will be lost to +you." + +But Frieda did not give notice. After I had helped +her clean the kitchen and the pantry I noticed an +expression of deepest pity overspreading her lumpy +features. The expression became almost one of agony as +she watched me roll out some noodles for soup, and delve +into the sticky mysteries of a new kind of cake. + +Max says that for a poor working girl who +hasn't had time to cultivate the domestic graces, my +cakes are a distinct triumph. Sis sniffs at that, and +mutters something about cups of raisins and nuts and +citron hiding a multitude of batter sins. She never +allows the Spalpeens to eat my cakes, and on my baking +days they are usually sent from the table howling. Norah +declares, severely, that she is going to hide the Green +Cook Book. The Green Cook Book is a German one. Norah +bought it in deference to Max's love of German cookery. +It is called Aunt Julchen's cook book, and the author, +between hints as to flour and butter, gets delightfully +chummy with her pupil. Her cakes are proud, rich cakes. +She orders grandly: + +"Now throw in the yolks of twelve eggs; one-fourth of +a pound of almonds; two pounds of raisins; a pound of +citron; a pound of orange-peel." + +As if that were not enough, there follow minor +instructions as to trifles like ounces of walnut meats, +pounds of confectioner's sugar, and pints of very rich +cream. When cold, to be frosted with an icing made up of +more eggs, more nuts, more cream, more everything. + +The children have appointed themselves official +lickers and scrapers of the spoons and icing pans, also +official guides on their auntie's walks. They regard +their Aunt Dawn as a quite ridiculous but altogether +delightful old thing. + +And Norah--bless her! looks up when I come in from a +romp with the Spalpeens and says: "Your cheeks are pink! +Actually! And you're losing a puff there at the back of +your ear, and your hat's on crooked. Oh, you are +beginning to look your old self, Dawn dear!" + +At which doubtful compliment I retort, recklessly: +"Pooh! What's a puff more or less, in a worthy cause? +And if you think my cheeks are pink now, just wait until +your mighty Von Gerhard comes again. By that time they +shall be so red and bursting that Frieda's, on wash day, +will look anemic by comparison. Say, Norah, how red are +German red cheeks, anyway?" + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +GOOD AS NEW + +So Spring danced away, and Summer sauntered in. My +pillows looked less and less tempting. The wine of the +northern air imparted a cocky assurance. One +blue-and-gold day followed the other, and I spent hours +together out of doors in the sunshine, lying full length +on the warm, sweet ground, to the horror of the entire +neighborhood. To be sure, I was sufficiently discreet to +choose the lawn at the rear of the house. There I drank +in the atmosphere, as per doctor's instructions, while +the genial sun warmed the watery blood in my veins and +burned the skin off the end of my nose. + +All my life I had envied the loungers in the parks-- +those silent, inert figures that lie under the trees all +the long summer day, their shabby hats over their faces, +their hands clasped above their heads, legs sprawled in +uncouth comfort, while the sun dapples down between the +leaves and, like a good fairy godmother, touches their +frayed and wrinkled garments with flickering +figures of golden splendor, while they sleep. They +always seemed so blissfully care-free and at ease--those +sprawling men figures--and I, to whom such simple joys +were forbidden, being a woman, had envied them. + +Now I was reveling in that very joy, stretched prone +upon the ground, blinking sleepily up at the sun and the +cobalt sky, feeling my very hair grow, and health +returning in warm, electric waves. I even dared to cross +one leg over the other and to swing the pendant member +with nonchalant air, first taking a cautious survey of +the neighboring back windows to see if any one peeked. +Doubtless they did, behind those ruffled curtains, but I +grew splendidly indifferent. + +Even the crawling things--and there were myriads of +them--added to the enjoyment of my ease. With my ear so +close to the ground the grass seemed fairly to buzz with +them. Everywhere there were crazily busy ants, and I, +patently a sluggard and therefore one of those for whom +the ancient warning was intended, considered them lazily. +How they plunged about, weaving in and out, rushing here +and there, helter-skelter, like bargain-hunting women +darting wildly from counter to counter! + +"O, foolish, foolish anties!" I chided them, "stop +wearing yourselves out this way. Don't you know that the +game isn't worth the candle, and that you'll give +yourselves nervous jim-jams and then you'll have to go +home to be patched up? Look at me! I'm a horrible +example." + +But they only bustled on, heedless of my advice, and +showed their contempt by crawling over me as I lay there +like a lady Gulliver. + +Oh, I played what they call a heavy thinking part. +It was not only the ants that came in for lectures. I +preached sternly to myself. + +"Well, Dawn old girl, you've made a beautiful mess of +it. A smashed-up wreck at twenty-eight! And what have +you to show for it? Nothing! You're a useless pulp, +like a lemon that has been squeezed dry. Von Gerhard was +right. There must be no more newspaper work for you, me +girl. Not if you can keep away from the fascination of +it, which I don't think you can." + +Then I would fall to thinking of those years of +newspapering--of the thrills of them, and the ills of +them. It had been exhilarating, and educating, but +scarcely remunerative. Mother had never approved. Dad +had chuckled and said that it was a curse descended upon +me from the terrible old Kitty O'Hara, the only old maid +in the history of the O'Haras, and famed in her +day for a caustic tongue and a venomed pen. Dad and +Mother--what a pair of children they had been! The very +dissimilarity of their natures had been a bond between +them. Dad, light-hearted, whimsical, care-free, +improvident; Mother, gravely sweet, anxious-browed, +trying to teach economy to the handsome Irish husband +who, descendant of a long and royal line of spendthrift +ancestors, would have none of it. + +It was Dad who had insisted that they name me Dawn. +Dawn O'Hara! His sense of humor must have been sleeping. +"You were such a rosy, pinky, soft baby thing," Mother +had once told me, "that you looked just like the first +flush of light at sunrise. That is why your father +insisted on calling you Dawn." + +Poor Dad! How could he know that at twenty-eight I +would be a yellow wreck of a newspaper reporter--with a +wrinkle between my eyes. If he could see me now he would +say: + +"Sure, you look like the dawn yet, me girl but a +Pittsburgh dawn." + +At that, Mother, if she were here, would pat my check +where the hollow place is, and murmur: "Never mind, +Dawnie dearie, Mother thinks you are beautiful just the +same." Of such blessed stuff are mothers made. + +At this stage of the memory game I would bury my face +in the warm grass and thank my God for having taken +Mother before Peter Orme came into my life. And then I +would fall asleep there on the soft, sweet grass, with my +head snuggled in my arms, and the ants wriggling, +unchided, into my ears. + +On the last of these sylvan occasions I awoke, not +with a graceful start, like the story-book ladies, but +with a grunt. Sis was digging me in the ribs with her +toe. I looked up to see her standing over me, a foaming +tumbler of something in her hand. I felt that it was +eggy and eyed it disgustedly. + +"Get up," said she, "you lazy scribbler, and drink +this." + +I sat up, eyeing her severely and picking grass and +ants out of my hair. + +"D' you mean to tell me that you woke me out of that +babe-like slumber to make me drink that goo? What is it, +anyway? I'll bet it's another egg-nogg." + +"Egg-nogg it is; and swallow it right away, because +there are guests to see you." + +I emerged from the first dip into the yellow mixture +and fixed on her as stern and terrible a look at any one +can whose mouth is encircled by a mustache of yellow +foam. + +"Guests!" I roared, "not for me! Don't you dare to +say that they came to see me!" + +"Did too," insists Norah, with firmness, "they came +especially to see you. Asked for you, right from the +jump." + +I finished the egg-nogg in four gulps, returned the +empty tumbler with an air of decision, and sank upon the +grass. + +"Tell 'em I rave. Tell 'em that I'm unconscious, and +that for weeks I have recognized no one, not even my dear +sister. Say that in my present nerve-shattered condition +I--" + +"That wouldn't satisfy them," Norah calmly. +interrupts, "they know you're crazy because they saw you +out here from their second story back windows. That's +why they came. So you may as well get up and face them. +I promised them I'd bring you in. You can't go on +forever refusing to see people, and you know the Whalens +are--" + +"Whalens!" I gasped. "How many of them? Not--not +the entire fiendish three?" + +"All three. I left them champing with impatience." + +The Whalens live just around the corner. The Whalens +are omniscient. They have a system of news gathering +which would make the efforts of a New York daily appear +antiquated. They know that Jenny Laffin feeds the family +on soup meat and oat-meal when Mr. Laffin is on the road; +they know that Mrs. Pearson only shakes out her rugs once +in four weeks; they can tell you the number of times a +week that Sam Dempster comes home drunk; they know that +the Merkles never have cream with their coffee because +little Lizzie Merkle goes to the creamery every day with +just one pail and three cents; they gloat over the knowledge +that Professor Grimes, who is a married man, is sweet on +Gertie Ashe, who teaches second reader in his school; +they can tell you where Mrs. Black got her seal coat, and +her husband only earning two thousand a year; they know +who is going to run for mayor, and how long poor Angela +Sims has to live, and what Guy Donnelly said to Min when +he asked her to marry him. + +The three Whalens--mother and daughters--hunt in a +group. They send meaning glances to one another across +the room, and at parties they get together and exchange +bulletins in a corner. On passing the Whalen house one +is uncomfortably aware of shadowy forms lurking in the +windows, and of parlor curtains that are agitated for no +apparent cause. + +Therefore it was with a groan that I rose and +prepared to follow Norah into the house. Something in my +eye caused her to turn at the very door. "Don't you dare!" +she hissed; then, banishing the warning scowl from her face, +and assuming a near-smile, she entered the room and I +followed miserably at her heels. + +The Whalens rose and came forward effusively; Mrs. +Whalen, plump, dark, voluble; Sally, lean, swarthy, +vindictive; Flossie, pudgy, powdered, over-dressed. They +eyed me hungrily. I felt that they were searching my +features for signs of incipient insanity. + +"Dear, DEAR girl!" bubbled the billowy Flossie, +kissing the end of my nose and fastening her eye on my +ringless left hand. + +Sally contented herself with a limp and fishy +handshake. She and I were sworn enemies in our +school-girl days, and a baleful gleam still lurked in +Sally's eye. Mrs. Whalen bestowed on me a motherly hug +that enveloped me in an atmosphere of liquid face-wash, +strong perfumery and fried lard. Mrs. Whalen is a famous +cook. Said she: + +"We've been thinking of calling ever since you were +brought home, but dear me! you've been looking so poorly +I just said to the girls, wait till the poor thing feels +more like seeing her old friends. Tell me, how are you +feeling now?" + +The three sat forward in their chairs in attitudes of +tense waiting. + +I resolved that if err I must it should be on the +side of safety. I turned to sister Norah. + +"How am I feeling anyway, Norah?" I guardedly +inquired. + +Norah's face was a study. "Why Dawn dear," she said, +sugar-sweet, "no doubt you know better than I. But I'm +sure that you are wonderfully improved--almost your old +self, in fact. Don't you think she looks splendid, Mrs. +Whalen?" + +The three Whalens tore their gaze from my blank +countenance to exchange a series of meaning looks. + +"I suppose," purred Mrs. Whalen, " that your awful +trouble was the real cause of your--a-a-a-sickness, +worrying about it and grieving as you must have." + +She pronounces it with a capital T, and I know she +means Peter. I hate her for it. + +"Trouble!" I chirped. "Trouble never troubles me. +I just worked too hard, that's all, and acquired an awful +`tired.' All work and no play makes Jill a nervous +wreck, you know." + +At that the elephantine Flossie wagged a playful +finger at me. "Oh, now, you can't make us believe that, +just because we're from the country! We know all about +you gay New Yorkers, with your Bohemian ways and your +midnight studio suppers, and your cigarettes, and +cocktails and high jinks!" + +Memory painted a swift mental picture of Dawn O'Hara +as she used to tumble into bed after a whirlwind day at +the office, too dog-tired to give her hair even one half +of the prescribed one hundred strokes of the brush. But +in turn I shook a reproving forefinger at Flossie. + +"You've been reading some naughty society novel! One +of those millionaire-divorce-actress-automobile novels. +Dear, dear! Shall I, ever forget the first New York +actress I ever met; or what she said!" + +I felt, more than saw, a warning movement from Sis. +But the three Whalens had hitched forward in their +chairs. + +"What did she say?" gurgled Flossie. "Was it +something real reezk?" + +"Well, it was at a late supper--a studio supper given +in her honor," I confessed. + +"Yes-s-s-s " hissed the Whalens. + +"And this actress--she was one of those musical +comedy actresses, you know; I remember her part called +for a good deal of kicking about in a short Dutch +costume--came in rather late, after the performance. She +was wearing a regal-looking fur-edged evening wrap, and +she still wore all her make-up"--out of the corner of my +eye I saw Sis sink back with an air of resignation--"and +she threw open the door and said-- + +"Yes-s-s-s! " hissed the Whalens again, wetting their +lips. + +"--said: `Folks, I just had a wire from mother, up +in Maine. The boy has the croup. I'm scared green. I +hate to spoil the party, but don't ask me to stay. I +want to go home to the flat and blubber. I didn't even +stop to take my make-up off. My God! If anything should +happen to the boy!--Well, have a good time without me. +Jim's waiting outside.'" A silence. + +Then--"Who was Jim?" asked Flossie, hopefully. + +"Jim was her husband, of course. He was in the same +company." + +Another silence. + +"Is that all?" demanded Sally from the corner in +which she had been glowering. + +"All! You unnatural girl! Isn't one husband +enough?" + +Mrs. Whalen smiled an uncertain, wavering smile. +There passed among the three a series of cabalistic +signs. They rose simultaneously. + +"How quaint you are!" exclaimed Mrs. Whalen, "and so +amusing! Come girls, we mustn't tire Miss--ah--Mrs.-- +er--"with another meaning look at my bare left hand. + +"My husband's name is still Orme," I prompted, quite, +quite pleasantly. + +"Oh, certainly. I'm so forgetful. And one reads +such queer things in the newspapers nowa-days. Divorces, +and separations, and soul-mates and things." There was +a note of gentle insinuation in her voice. + +Norah stepped firmly into the fray. "Yes, doesn't +one? What a comfort it must be to you to know that your +dear girls are safe at home with you, and no doubt will +be secure, for years to come, from the buffeting winds of +matrimony." + +There was a tinge of purple in Mrs. Whalen's face as +she moved toward the door, gathering her brood about her. +"Now that dear Dawn is almost normal again I shall send +my little girlies over real often. She must find it very +dull here after her--ah--life in New York." + +"Not at all," I said, hurriedly, "not at all. You +see I'm--I'm writing a book. My entire day is occupied." + +"A book!" screeched the three. "How interesting! What +is it? When will it be published?" + +I avoided Norah's baleful eye as I answered their +questions and performed the final adieux. + +As the door closed, Norah and I faced each other, +glaring. + +"Hussies!" hissed Norah. Whereupon it struck us +funny and we fell, a shrieking heap, into the nearest +chair. Finally Sis dabbed at her eyes with her +handkerchief, drew a long breath, and asked, with +elaborate sarcasm, why I hadn't made it a play instead of +a book, while I was about it. + +"But I mean it," I declared. "I've had enough of +loafing. Max must unpack my typewriter to-night. I'm +homesick for a look at the keys. And to-morrow I'm to be +installed in the cubbyhole off the dining-room and I defy +any one to enter it on peril of their lives. If you +value the lives of your offspring, warn them away from +that door. Von Gerhard said that there was writing in my +system, and by the Great Horn Spoon and the Beard of the +Prophet, I'll have it out! Besides, I need the money. +Norah dear, how does one set about writing a book? It +seems like such a large order." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +DAWN DEVELOPS A HEIMWEH + +It's hard trying to develop into a real Writer Lady in +the bosom of one's family, especially when the family +refuses to take one seriously. Seven years of newspaper +grind have taught me the fallacy of trying to write by +the inspiration method. But there is such a thing as a +train of thought, and mine is constantly being derailed, +and wrecked and pitched about. + +Scarcely am I settled in my cubby-hole, typewriter +before me, the working plan of a story buzzing about in +my brain, when I hear my name called in muffled tones, as +though the speaker were laboring with a mouthful of +hairpins. I pay no attention. I have just given my +heroine a pair of calm gray eyes, shaded with black +lashes and hair to match. A voice floats down from the +upstairs regions. + +"Dawn! Oh, Dawn! Just run and rescue the cucumbers +out of the top of the ice-box, will you? The iceman's +coming, and he'll squash 'em." + +A parting jab at my heroine's hair and eyes, and I'm +off to save the cucumbers. + +Back at my typewriter once more. Shall I make my +heroine petite or grande? I decide that stateliness +and Gibsonesque height should accompany the calm gray +eyes. I rattle away happily, the plot unfolding itself +in some mysterious way. Sis opens the door a little and +peers in. She is dressed for the street. + +"Dawn dear, I'm going to the dressmaker's. Frieda's +upstairs cleaning the bathroom, so take a little squint +at the roast now and then, will you? See that it doesn't +burn, and that there's plenty of gravy. Oh, and Dawn-- +tell the milkman we want an extra half-pint of cream +to-day. The tickets are on the kitchen shelf, back of +the clock. I'll be back in an hour." + +"Mhmph," I reply. + +Sis shuts the door, but opens it again almost +immediately. + +"Don't let the Infants bother you. But if Frieda's +upstairs and they come to you for something to eat, don't +let them have any cookies before dinner. If they're +really hungry they'll eat bread and butter." + +I promise, dreamily, my last typewritten sentence +still running through my head. The gravy seems to have +got into the heroine's calm gray eyes. What heroine +could remain calm-eyed when her creator's mind is filled +with roast beef? A half-hour elapses before I get back +on the track. Then appears the hero--a tall blond youth, +fair to behold. I make him two yards high, and endow him +with a pair of clothing-advertisement shoulders. + +There assails my nostrils a fearful smell of +scorching. The roast! A wild rush into the kitchen. I +fling open the oven door. The roast is mahogany-colored, +and gravyless. It takes fifteen minutes of the most +desperate first-aid-to-the-injured measures before the +roast is revived. + +Back to the writing. It has lost its charm. The +gray-eyed heroine is a stick; she moves like an Indian +lady outside a cigar shop. The hero is a milk-and-water +sissy, without a vital spark in him. What's the use of +trying to write, anyway? Nobody wants my stuff. Good +for nothing except dubbing on a newspaper! + +Rap! Rap! Rappity-rap-rap! Bing! Milk! + +I dash into the kitchen. No milk! No milkman! I +fly to the door. He is disappearing around the corner of +the house. + +"Hi! Mr. Milkman! Say, Mr. Milkman!" with frantic +beckonings. + +He turns. He lifts up his voice. "The screen door +was locked so I left youse yer milk on top of +the ice-box on the back porch. Thought like the hired +girl was upstairs an' I could git the tickets to-morra." + +I explain about the cream, adding that it is wanted +for short-cake. The explanation does not seem to cheer +him. He appears to be a very gloomy and reserved +milkman. I fancy that he is in the habit of indulging in +a little airy persiflage with Frieda o' mornings, and he +finds me a poor substitute for her red-cheeked +comeliness. + +The milk safely stowed away in the ice-box, I have +another look at the roast. I am dipping up spoonfuls of +brown gravy and pouring them over the surface of the +roast in approved basting style, when there is a rush, a +scramble, and two hard bodies precipitate themselves upon +my legs so suddenly that for a moment my head pitches +forward into the oven. I withdraw my head from the oven, +hastily. The basting spoon is immersed in the bottom of +the pan. I turn, indignant. The Spalpeens look up at me +with innocent eyes. + +"You little divils, what do you mean by shoving your +old aunt into the oven! It's cannibals you are!" + +The idea pleases them. They release my legs +and execute a savage war dance around me. The Spalpeens +are firm in the belief that I was brought to their home +for their sole amusement, and they refuse to take me +seriously. The Spalpeens themselves are two of the +finest examples of real humor that ever were perpetrated +upon parents. Sheila is the first-born. Norah decided +that she should be an Irish beauty, and bestowed upon her +a name that reeks of the bogs. Whereupon Sheila, at the +age of six, is as flaxen-haired and blue-eyed and stolid +a little German madchen as ever fooled her parents, and +she is a feminine reproduction of her German Dad. Two +years later came a sturdy boy, and they named him Hans, +in a flaunt of defiance. Hans is black-haired, gray-eyed +and Irish as Killarny. + +"We're awful hungry," announces Sheila. + +"Can't you wait until dinner time? Such a grand +dinner!" + +Sheila and Hans roll their eyes to convey to me that, +were they to wait until dinner for sustenance we should +find but their lifeless forms. + +"Well then, Auntie will get a nice piece of bread and +butter for each of you." + +"Don't want bread an' butty!" shrieks Hans. "Want +tooky!" + +"Cooky!" echoes Sheila, pounding on the kitchen table +with the rescued basting spoon. + +"You can't have cookies before dinner. They're bad +for your insides." + +"Can too," disputes Hans. "Fwieda dives us tookies. +Want tooky!" wailingly. + +"Please, ple-e-e-ease, Auntie Dawnie dearie," +wheedles Sheila, wriggling her soft little fingers in my +hand. + +"But Mother never lets you have cookies before +dinner," I retort severely. "She knows they are bad for +you." + +"Pooh, she does too! She always says, `No, not a +cooky!' And then we beg and screech, and then she says, +`Oh, for pity's sake, Frieda, give 'em a cooky and send +'em out. One cooky can't kill 'em.'" Sheila's imitation +is delicious. + +Hans catches the word screech and takes it as his +cue. He begins a series of ear-piercing wails. Sheila +surveys him with pride and then takes the wail up in a +minor key. Their teamwork is marvelous. I fly to the +cooky jar and extract two round and sugary confections. +I thrust them into the pink, eager palms. The wails +cease. Solemnly they place one cooky atop the other, +measuring the circlets with grave eyes. + +"Mine's a weeny bit bigger'n yours this time," +decides Sheila, and holds her cooky heroically while Hans +takes a just and lawful bite out of his sister's larger +share. + +"The blessed little angels! " I say to myself, +melting. "The dear, unselfish little sweeties!" and give +each of them another cooky. + +Back to my typewriter. But the words flatly refuse +to come now. I make six false starts, bite all my best +finger-nails, screw my hair into a wilderness of +cork-screws and give it up. No doubt a real Lady Writer +could write on, unruffled and unhearing, while the iceman +squashed the cucumbers, and the roast burned to a +frazzle, and the Spalpeens perished of hunger. Possessed +of the real spark of genius, trivialities like milkmen +and cucumbers could not dim its glow. Perhaps all +successful Lady Writers with real live sparks have cooks +and scullery maids, and need not worry about basting, and +gravy, and milkmen. + +This book writing is all very well for those who have +a large faith in the future and an equally large bank +account. But my future will have to be hand-carved, and +my bank account has always been an all too small pay +envelope at the end of each week. It will be months +before the book is shaped and finished. And my +pocketbook is empty. Last week Max sent money for the +care of Peter. He and Norah think that I do not know. + +Von Gerhard was here in August. I told him +that all my firm resolutions to forsake newspaperdom +forever were slipping away, one by one. + +"I have heard of the fascination of the newspaper +office," he said, in his understanding way. "I believe +you have a heimweh for it, not?" + +"Heimweh! That's the word," I had agreed. "After +you have been a newspaper writer for seven years--and +loved it--you will be a newspaper writer, at heart and by +instinct at least, until you die. There's no getting +away from it. It's in the blood. Newspaper men have +been known to inherit fortunes, to enter politics, to +write books and become famous, to degenerate into press +agents and become infamous, to blossom into personages, +to sink into nonentities, but their news-nose remained a +part of them, and the inky, smoky, stuffy smell of a +newspaper office was ever sweet in their nostrils." + +But, "Not yet," Von Gerhard had said, "It unless you +want to have again this miserable business of the sick +nerfs. Wait yet a few months." + +And so I have waited, saying nothing to Norah and +Max. But I want to be in the midst of things. I miss +the sensation of having my fingers at the pulse of the +big old world. I'm lonely for the noise and the rush and +the hard work; for a glimpse of the busy local room just +before press time, when the lights are swimming in a smoky +haze, and the big presses downstairs are thundering their +warning to hurry, and the men are breezing in from their +runs with the grist of news that will be ground finer and +finer as it passes through the mill of copy-readers' and +editors' hands. I want to be there in the thick of the +confusion that is, after all, so orderly. I want to be +there when the telephone bells are zinging, and the +typewriters are snapping, and the messenger boys are +shuffling in and out, and the office kids are scuffling +in a corner, and the big city editor, collar off, sleeves +rolled up from his great arms, hair bristling wildly +above his green eye-shade, is swearing gently and smoking +cigarette after cigarette, lighting each fresh one at the +dying glow of the last. I would give a year of my life +to hear him say: + +"I don't mind tellin' you, Beatrice Fairfax, that +that was a darn good story you got on the Millhaupt +divorce. The other fellows haven't a word that isn't +re-hash." + +All of which is most unwomanly; for is not marriage +woman's highest aim, and home her true sphere? Haven't +I tried both? I ought to know. I merely have been +miscast in this life's drama. My part should have been +that of one who makes her way alone. Peter, with his thin, +cruel lips, and his shaking hands, and his haggard face +and his smoldering eyes, is a shadow forever blotting out +the sunny places in my path. I was meant to be an old +maid, like the terrible old Kitty O'Hara. Not one of the +tatting-and-tea kind, but an impressive, bustling old +girl, with a double chin. The sharp-tongued Kitty O'Hara +used to say that being an old maid was a great deal like +death by drowning--a really delightful sensation when you +ceased struggling. + +Norah has pleaded with me to be more like other women +of my age, and for her sake I've tried. She has led me +about to bridge parties and tea fights, and I have tried +to act as though I were enjoying it all, but I knew that +I wasn't getting on a bit. I have come to the conclusion +that one year of newspapering counts for two years of +ordinary, existence, and that while I'm twenty-eight in +the family Bible I'm fully forty inside. When one day +may bring under one's pen a priest, a pauper, a +prostitute, a philanthropist, each with a story to tell, +and each requiring to be bullied, or cajoled, or bribed, +or threatened, or tricked into telling it; then the end +of that day's work finds one looking out at the world +with eyes that are very tired and as old as the world +itself. + +I'm spoiled for sewing bees and church sociables and +afternoon bridges. A hunger for the city is upon me. +The long, lazy summer days have slipped by. There is an +autumn tang in the air. The breeze has a touch that is +sharp. + +Winter in a little northern town! I should go mad. +But winter in the city! The streets at dusk on a frosty +evening; the shop windows arranged by artist hands for +the beauty-loving eyes of women; the rows of lights like +jewels strung on an invisible chain; the glitter of brass +and enamel as the endless procession of motors flashes +past; the smartly-gowned women; the keen-eyed, nervous +men; the shrill note of the crossing policeman's whistle; +every smoke-grimed wall and pillar taking on a mysterious +shadowy beauty in the purple dusk, every unsightly blot +obscured by the kindly night. But best of all, the +fascination of the People I'd Like to Know. They pop up +now and then in the shifting crowds, and are gone the +next moment, leaving behind them a vague regret. +Sometimes I call them the People I'd Like to Know and +sometimes I call them the People I Know I'd Like, but it +means much the same. Their faces flash by in the crowd, +and are gone, but I recognize them instantly as belonging +to my beloved circle of unknown friends. + +Once it was a girl opposite me in a car--a girl with +a wide, humorous mouth, and tragic eyes, and a hole in +her shoe. Once it was a big, homely, red-headed giant of +a man with an engineering magazine sticking out of his +coat pocket. He was standing at a book counter reading +Dickens like a schoolboy and laughing in all the right +places, I know, because I peaked over his shoulder to +see. Another time it was a sprightly little, grizzled +old woman, staring into a dazzling shop window in which +was displayed a wonderful collection of fashionably +impossible hats and gowns. She was dressed all in rusty +black, was the little old lady, and she had a quaint cast +in her left eye that gave her the oddest, most sporting +look. The cast was working overtime as she gazed at the +gowns, and the ridiculous old sprigs on her rusty black +bonnet trembled with her silent mirth. She looked like +one of those clever, epigrammatic, dowdy old duchesses +that one reads about in English novels. I'm sure she had +cardamon seeds in her shabby bag, and a carriage with a +crest on it waiting for her just around the corner. I +ached to slip my hand through her arm and ask her what +she thought of it all. I know that her reply would have +been exquisitely witty and audacious, and I did so long +to hear her say it. + +No doubt some good angel tugs at my common sense, +restraining me from doing these things that I am tempted +to do. Of course it would be madness for a woman to +address unknown red-headed men with the look of an +engineer about them and a book of Dickens in their hands; +or perky old women with nutcracker faces; or girls with +wide humorous mouths. Oh, it couldn't be done, I +suppose. They would clap me in a padded cell in no time +if I were to say: + +"Mister Red-headed Man, I'm so glad your heart is +young enough for Dickens. I love him too--enough to read +him standing at a book counter in a busy shop. And do +you know, I like the squareness of your jaw, and the way +your eyes crinkle up when you laugh; and as for your +being an engineer--why one of the very first men I ever +loved was the engineer in `Soldiers of Fortune.'" + +I wonder what the girl in the car would have said if +I had crossed over to her, and put my hand on her arm and +spoken, thus: + +"Girl with the wide, humorous mouth, and the tragic +eyes, and the hole in your shoe, I think you must be an +awfully good sort. I'll wager you paint, or write, or act, +or do something clever like that for a living. But from +that hole in your shoe which you have inked so carefully, +although it persists in showing white at the seams, I +fancy you are stumbling over a rather stony bit of Life's +road just now. And from the look in your eyes, girl, I'm +afraid the stones have cut and bruised rather cruelly. +But when I look at your smiling, humorous mouth I know +that you are trying to laugh at the hurts. I think that +this morning, when you inked your shoe for the dozenth +time, you hesitated between tears and laughter, and the +laugh won, thank God! Please keep right on laughing, and +don't you dare stop for a minute! Because pretty soon +you'll come to a smooth easy place, and then won't you be +glad that you didn't give up to lie down by the roadside, +weary of your hurts?" + +Oh, it would never do. Never. And yet no charm +possessed by the people I know and like can compare with +the fascination of those People I'd Like to Know, and +Know I Would Like. + +Here at home with Norah there are no faces in the +crowds. There are no crowds. When you turn the corner +at Main street you are quite sure that you will see the +same people in the same places. You know that Mamie +Hayes will be flapping her duster just outside the door +of the jewelry store where she clerks. She gazes up and +down Main street as she flaps the cloth, her bright eyes +keeping a sharp watch for stray traveling men that may +chance to be passing. You know that there will be the +same lounging group of white-faced, vacant-eyed youths +outside the pool-room. Dr. Briggs's patient runabout +will be standing at his office doorway. Outside his +butcher shop Assemblyman Schenck will be holding forth on +the subject of county politics to a group of red-faced, +badly dressed, prosperous looking farmers and townsmen, +and as he talks the circle of brown tobacco juice which +surrounds the group closes in upon them, nearer and +nearer. And there, in a roomy chair in a corner of the +public library reference room, facing the big front +window, you will see Old Man Randall. His white hair +forms a halo above his pitiful drink-marred face. He was +to have been a great lawyer, was Old Man Randall. But on +the road to fame he met Drink, and she grasped his arm, +and led him down by-ways, and into crooked lanes, and +finally into ditches, and he never arrived at his goal. +There in that library window nook it is cool in summer, +and warm in winter. So he sits and dreams, holding an +open volume, unread, on his knees. Some times he writes, +hunched up in his corner, feverishly scribbling at +ridiculous plays, short stories, and novels +which later he will insist on reading to the tittering +schoolboys and girls who come into the library to do +their courting and reference work. Presently, when it +grows dusk, Old Man Randall will put away his book, throw +his coat over his shoulders, sleeves dangling, flowing +white locks sweeping the frayed velvet collar. He will +march out with his soldierly tread, humming a bit of a +tune, down the street and into Vandermeister's saloon, +where he will beg a drink and a lunch, and some man will +give it to him for the sake of what Old Man Randall might +have been. + +All these things you know. And knowing them, what is +left for the imagination? How can one dream dreams about +people when one knows how much they pay their hired girl, +and what they have for dinner on Wednesdays? + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +THE ABSURD BECOMES SERIOUS + +I can understand the emotions of a broken-down war horse +that is hitched to a vegetable wagon. I am going to +Milwaukee to work! It is a thing to make the gods hold +their sides and roll down from their mountain peaks with +laughter. After New York--Milwaukee! + +Of course Von Gerhard is to blame. But I think even +he sees the humor of it. It happened in this way, on a +day when I was indulging in a particularly +greenery-yallery fit of gloom. Norah rushed into my +room. I think I was mooning over some old papers, or +letters, or ribbons, or some such truck in the charming, +knife-turning way that women have when they are blue. + +"Out wid yez!" cried Norah. "On with your hat and +coat! I've just had a wire from Ernst von Gerhard. He's +coming, and you look like an under-done dill pickle. You +aren't half as blooming as when he was here in August, +and this is October. Get out and walk until your cheeks +are so red that Von Gerhard will refuse to believe that +this fiery-faced puffing, bouncing creature is the green +and limp thing that huddled in a chair a few months ago. +Out ye go!" + +And out I went. Hatless, I strode countrywards, +leaving paved streets and concrete walks far behind. +There were drifts of fallen leaves all about, and I +scuffled through them drearily, trying to feel gloomy, +and old, and useless, and failing because of the tang in +the air, and the red-and-gold wonder of the frost-kissed +leaves, and the regular pump-pump of good red blood that +was coursing through my body as per Norah's request. + +In a field at the edge of the town, just where city +and country begin to have a bowing acquaintance, the +college boys were at football practice. Their scarlet +sweaters made gay patches of color against the dull +gray-brown of the autumn grass. + +"Seven-eighteen-two-four!" called a voice. There +followed a scuffle, a creaking of leather on leather, a +thud. I watched them, a bit enviously, walking backwards +until a twist in the road hid them from view. That same +twist transformed my path into a real country road-- +a brown, dusty, monotonous Michigan country road that +went severely about its business, never once stopping to +flirt with the blushing autumn woodland at its left, or +to dally with the dimpling ravine at its right. + +"Now if that were an English country road," thought +I, "a sociably inclined, happy-go-lucky, out-for-pleasure +English country road, one might expect something of it. +On an English country road this would be the +psychological moment for the appearance of a blond god, +in gray tweed. What a delightful time of it Richard Le +Gallienne's hero had on his quest! He could not stroll +down the most innocent looking lane, he might not loiter +along the most out-of-the-way path, he never ambled over +the barest piece of country road, that he did not come +face to face with some witty and lovely woman creature, +also in search of things unconventional, and able to +quote charming lines from Chaucer to him." + +Ah, but that was England, and this is America. I +realize it sadly as I step out of the road to allow a +yellow milk wagon to rattle past. The red letters on the +yellow milk cart inform the reader that it is the +property of August Schimmelpfennig, of Hickory Grove. +The Schimmelpfennig eye may be seen staring down upon me +from the bit of glass in the rear as the cart rattles +ahead, doubtless being suspicious of hatless +young women wandering along country roads at dusk, alone. +There was that in the staring eye to which I took +exception. It wore an expression which made me feel sure +that the mouth below it was all a-grin, if I could but +have seen it. It was bad enough to be stared at by the +fishy Schimmelpfennig eye, but to be grinned at by the +Schimmelpfennig mouth!--I resented it. In order to show +my resentment I turned my back on the Schimmelpfennig +cart and pretended to look up the road which I had just +traveled. + +I pretended to look up the road, and then I did look +in earnest. No wonder the Schimmelpfennig eye and mouth +had worn the leering expression. The blond god in gray +tweed was swinging along toward me! I knew that he was +blond because he wore no hat and the last rays of the +October sun were making a little halo effect about his +head. I knew that his-gray clothes were tweed because +every well regulated hero on a country road wears tweed. +It's almost a religion with them. He was not near enough +to make a glance at his features possible. I turned +around and continued my walk. The yellow cart, with its +impudent Schimmelpfennig leer, was disappearing in a +cloud of dust. Shades of the "Duchess" and Bertha M. Clay! +How does one greet a blond god in gray tweed on a country +road, when one has him! + +The blond god solved the problem for me. + +"Hi!" he called. I did not turn. There was a +moment's silence. Then there came a shrill, insistent +whistle, of the kind that is made by placing four fingers +between the teeth. It is a favorite with the gallery +gods. I would not have believed that gray tweed gods +stooped to it. + +"Hi!" called the voice again, very near now. +"Lieber Gott! Never have I seen so proud a young woman!" + +I whirled about to face Von Gerhard; a strangely +boyish and unprofessional looking Von Gerhard. + +"Young man," I said severely, "have you been +a-follerin' of me?" + +"For miles," groaned he, as we shook hands. You walk +like a grenadier. I am sent by the charming Norah to +tell you that you are to come home to mix the salad +dressing, for there is company for supper. I am the +company." + +I was still a bit dazed. "But how did you know which +road to take? And when--" + +"Wunderbar, nicht wahr?" laughed Von Gerhard. "But +really quite simple. I come in on an earlier train than +I had expected, chat a moment with sister Norah, inquire +after the health of my patient, and am told that she is +running away from a horde of blue devils!--quote your +charming sister--that have swarmed about her all day. What +direction did her flight take? I ask. Sister Norah shrugs +her shoulders and presumes that it is the road which shows +the reddest and yellowest autumn colors. That road will +be your road. So!" + +"Pooh! How simple! That is the second`disappointment +you have given me to-day." + +"But how is that possible? The first has not had +time to happen." + +"The first was yourself," I replied, rudely. + +"I had been longing for an adventure. And when I saw +you 'way up the road, such an unusual figure for our +Michigan country roads, I forgot that I was a +disappointed old grass widder with a history, and I grew +young again, and my heart jumped up into my throat, and +I sez to mesilf, sez I: `Enter the hero!' And it was +only you." + +Von Gerhard stared a moment, a curious look on his +face. Then he laughed one of those rare laughs of his, +and I joined him because I was strangely young, light, +and happy to be alive. + +"You walk and enjoy walking, yes?" asked Von Gerhard, +scanning my face. "Your cheeks they are like--well, as +unlike the cheeks of the German girls as Diana's are +unlike a dairy maid's. And the nerfs? They no longer +jump, eh?" + +"Oh, they jump, but not with weariness. They jump to +get into action again. From a life of too much +excitement I have gone to the other extreme. I shall be +dead of ennui in another six months." + +"Ennui?" mused he, "and you are--how is it?-- +twenty-eight years, yes? H'm!" + +There was a world of exasperation in the last +exclamation. + +"I am a thousand years old," it made me exclaim, "a +million!" + +"I will prove to you that you are sixteen," declared +Von Gerhard, calmly. + +We had come to a fork in the road. At the right the +narrower road ran between two rows of great maples that +made an arch of golden splendor. The frost had kissed +them into a gorgeous radiance. + +"Sunshine Avenue," announced Von Gerhard. "It +beckons us away from home, and supper and salad dressing +and duty, but who knows what we shall find at the end of +it!" + +"Let's explore," I suggested. "It is splendidly +golden enough to be enchanted." + +We entered the yellow canopied pathway. + +"Let us pretend this is Germany, yes?" pleaded Von +Gerhard. "This golden pathway will end in a neat little +glass-roofed restaurant, with tables and chairs outside, +and comfortable German papas and mammas and pig-tailed +children sitting at the tables, drinking coffee or beer. +There will be stout waiters, and a red-faced host. And +we will seat ourselves at one of the tables, and I will +wave my hand, and one of the stout waiters will come +flying. `Will you have coffee, _Fraulein_, or beer?' It +sounds prosaic, but it is very, very good, as you will +see. Pathways in Germany always end in coffee and Kuchen +and waiters in white aprons." + +But, "Oh, no!" I exclaimed, for his mood was +infectious. "This is France. Please! The golden +pathway will end in a picturesque little French farm, +with a dairy. And in the doorway of the farmhouse there +will be a red-skirted peasant woman, with a white cap! +and a baby on her arm! and sabots! Oh, surely she will +wear sabots!" + +"Most certainly she will wear sabots," Von Gerhard +said, heatedly, "and blue knitted stockings. And the +baby's name is Mimi! + +We had taken hands and were skipping down the pathway +now, like two excited children. + +"Let's run," I suggested. And run we did, like two +mad creatures, until we rounded a gentle curve and +brought up, panting, within a foot of a decrepit rail +fence. The rail fence enclosed a stubbly, lumpy field. +The field was inhabited by an inquiring cow. Von Gerhard +and I stood quite still, hand in hand, gazing at the cow. +Then we turned slowly and looked at each other. + +"This pathway of glorified maples ends in a cow," I +said, solemnly. At which we both shrieked with mirth, +leaning on the decrepit fence and mopping our eyes with +our handkerchiefs. + +"Did I not say you were sixteen?" taunted Von +Gerhard. We were getting surprisingly well acquainted. + +"Such a scolding as we shall get! It will be quite +dark before we are home. Norah will be tearing her +hair." + +It was a true prophecy. As we stampeded up the steps +the door was flung open, disclosing a tragic figure. + +"Such a steak!" wailed Norah, " and it has been done +for hours and hours, and now it looks like a piece of fried +ear. Where have you two driveling idiots been? And +mushrooms too." + +"She means that the ruined steak was further enhanced +by mushrooms," I explained in response to Von Gerhard's +bewildered look. We marched into the house, trying not +to appear like sneak thieves. Max, pipe in mouth, +surveyed us blandly. + +"Fine color you've got, Dawn," he remarked. + +"There is such a thing as overdoing this health +business," snapped Norah, with a great deal of acidity +for her. "I didn't tell you to make them purple, you +know." + +Max turned to Von Gerhard. "Now what does she mean +by that do you suppose, eh Ernst?" + +"Softly, brother, softly!" whispered Von Gerhard. +"When women exchange remarks that apparently are simple, +and yet that you, a man, cannot understand, then know +there is a woman's war going on, and step softly, and +hold your peace. Aber ruhig!" + +Calm was restored with the appearance of the steak, +which was found to have survived the period of waiting, +and to be incredibly juicy and tender. Presently we +were all settled once more in the great beamed living +room, Sis at the piano, the two men smoking their +after-dinner cigars with that idiotic expression of +contentment which always adorns the masculine face on +such occasions. + +I looked at them--at those three who had done so much +for my happiness and well being, and something within me +said: "Now! Speak now!" Norah was playing very softly, +so that the Spalpeens upstairs might not be disturbed. +I took a long breath and made the plunge. + +"Norah, if you'll continue the slow music, I'll be +much obliged. `The time has come, the Walrus said, to +talk of many things.'" + +"Don't be absurd," said Norah, over her shoulder, and +went on playing. + +"I never was more serious in my life, good folkses +all. I've got to be. This butterfly existence has gone +on long enough. Norah, and Max, and Mr. Doctor Man, I am +going away." + +Norah's hands crashed down on the piano keys with a +jangling discord. She swung about to face me. + +"Not New York again, Dawn! Not New York!" + +"I am afraid so," I answered. + +Max--bless his great, brotherly heart-- rose and came +over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. + +"Don't you like it here, girlie? Want to be hauled +home on a shutter again, do you? You know that as long +as we have a home, you have one. We need you here." + +But I shook my head. From his chair at the other +side of the room I could feel Von Gerhard's gaze fixed +upon us. He had said nothing. + +"Need me! No one needs me. Don't worry; I'm not +going to become maudlin about it. But I don't belong +here, and you know, it. I have my work to do. Norah is +the best sister that a woman ever had. And Max, you're +an angel brother-in-law. But how can I stay on here and +keep my self-respect?" I took Max's big hand in mine and +gathered courage from it. + +"But you have been working," wailed Norah, "every +morning. And I thought the book was coming on +beautifully. And I'm sure it will be a wonderful book, +Dawn dear. You are so clever." + +"Oh, the book--it is too uncertain. Perhaps it will +go, but perhaps it won't. And then--what? It will be +months before the book is properly polished off. And +then I may peddle it around for more months. No; I can't +afford to trifle with uncertainties. Every newspaper man +or woman writes a book. It's like having the measles. +There is not a newspaper man living who does not believe, +in his heart, that if he could only take a month or two +away from the telegraph desk or the police run, he could +write the book of the year, not to speak of the great +American Play. Why, just look at me! I've only been +writing`seriously for a few weeks, and already the best +magazines in the country are refusing my manuscripts daily." + +"Don't joke," said Norah, coming over to me, "I can't +stand it." + +"Why not? Much better than weeping, isn't it? And +anyway, I'm no subject for tears any more. Dr. von +Gerhard will tell you how well and strong I am. Won't +you, Herr Doktor?" + +Well," said Von Gerhard, in his careful, deliberate +English, "since you ask me, I should say that you might +last about one year, in New York." + +"There! What did I tell you!" cried Norah. + +"What utter blither!" I scoffed, turning to glare at +Von Gerhard. + +"Gently," warned Max. "Such disrespect to the man +who pulled you back from the edge of the yawning grave +only six months ago!" + +"Yawning fiddlesticks!" snapped I, elegantly. "There +was nothing wrong with me except that I wanted to be +fussed over. And I have been. And I've loved it. But +it must stop now." I rose and walked over to the table +and faced Von Gerhard, sitting there in the depths of a +great chair. "You do not seem to realize that I am not +free to come and go, and work and play, and laugh and +live like other women. There is my living to make. And +there is--Peter Orme. Do you think that I could stay on +here like this? Oh, I know that Max is not a poor man. +But he is not a rich man, either. And there are the +children to be educated, and besides, Max married Norah +O'Hara, not the whole O'Hara tribe. I want to go to +work. I am not a free woman, but when I am working, I +forget, and am almost, happy. I tell you I must be well +again! I will be well! I am well!" + +At the end of which dramatic period I spoiled the +whole effect by bowing my head on the table and giving +way to a fit of weeping such as I had not had since the +days of my illness. + +"Looks like it," said Max, at which I decided to +laugh, and the situation was saved. + +It was then that Von Gerhard proposed the thing that +set us staring at him in amused wonder. He came over and +stood looking down at us, his hands outspread upon the +big library table, his body bent forward in an attitude +of eager intentness. I remember thinking what wonderful +hands they were, true indexes of the man's character; +broad, white, surgeonly hands; the fingers almost square +at the tips. They were hands as different from those +slender, nervous, unsteady, womanly hands of Peter Orme +as any hands could be, I thought. They were hands made +for work that called for delicate strength, if such a +paradox could be; hands to cling to; to gain courage +from; hands that spelled power and reserve. I looked at +them, fascinated, as I often had done before, and thought +that I never had seen such SANE hands. + +"You have done me the honor to include me in this +little family conclave," began Ernst von Gerhard. "I am +going to take advantage of your trust. I shall give you +some advice--a thing I usually keep for unpleasant +professional occasions. Do not go back to New York." + +"But I know New York. And New York --the newspaper +part of it--knows me. Where else can I go?" + +"You have your book to finish. You could never +finish it there, is it not so?" + +I'm afraid I shrugged my shoulders. It was all so +much harder than I had expected. What did they want me +to do? I asked myself, bitterly. + +Von Gerhard went on. "Why not go where the newspaper +work will not be so nerve-racking? where you still might +find time for this other work that is dear to you, and +that may bring its reward in time." He reached out and +took my hand, into his great, steady clasp. "Come to the +happy, healthy, German town called Milwaukee, yes? Ach, +you may laugh. But newspaper work is newspaper work the +world over, because men and women are just men and women +the world over. But there you could live sanely, and +work not too hard, and there would be spare hours for the +book that is near your heart. And I--I will speak of you +to Norberg, of the Post. And on Sundays, if you are +good, I may take you along the marvelous lake drives in +my little red runabout, yes? Aber wunderbar, those +drives are! So." + +Then--"Milwaukee!" shrieked Max and Norah and I, +together. "After New York--Milwaukee!" + +"Laugh," said Von Gerhard, quite composedly. "I give +you until to-morrow morning to stop laughing. At the end +of that time it will not seem quite so amusing. No joke +is so funny after one has contemplated it for twelve +hours." + +The voice of Norah, the temptress, sounded close to +my ear. "Dawn dear, just think how many million miles +nearer you would be to Max, and me, and home." + +"Oh, you have all gone mad! The thing is impossible. +I shan't go back to a country sheet in my old age. I +suppose that in two more years I shall be editing a +mothers' column on an agricultural weekly." + +"Norberg would be delighted to get you," mused Von +Gerhard, "and it would be day work instead of night +work." + +"And you would send me a weekly bulletin on Dawn's +health, wouldn't you, Ernst?" pleaded Norah. "And you'd +teach her to drink beer and she shall grow so fat that +the Spalpeens won't know their auntie." + +At last--"How much do they pay?" I asked, in +desperation. And the thing that had appeared so absurd +at first began to take on the shape of reality. + +Von Gerhard did speak to Norberg of the Post. And +I am to go to Milwaukee next week. The skeleton of the +book manuscript is stowed safely away in the bottom of my +trunk and Norah has filled in the remaining space with +sundry flannels, and hot water bags and medicine flasks, +so that I feel like a schoolgirl on her way to +boarding-school, instead of like a seasoned old newspaper +woman with a capital PAST and a shaky future. I wish +that I were chummier with the Irish saints. I need them +now. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +STEEPED IN GERMAN + +I am living at a little private hotel just across from +the court house square with its scarlet geraniums and its +pretty fountain. The house is filled with German civil +engineers, mechanical engineers, and Herr Professors from +the German academy. On Sunday mornings we have +Pfannkuchen with currant jelly, and the Herr Professors +come down to breakfast in fearful flappy German slippers. +I'm the only creature in the place that isn't just over +from Germany. Even the dog is a dachshund. It is so +unbelievable that every day or two I go down to Wisconsin +Street and gaze at the stars and stripes floating from +the government building, in order to convince myself that +this is America. It needs only a Kaiser or so, and a bit +of Unter den Linden to be quite complete. + +The little private hotel is kept by Herr and Frau +Knapf. After one has seen them, one quite understands why +the place is steeped in a German atmosphere up to its +eyebrows. + +I never would have found it myself. It was Doctor +von Gerhard who had suggested Knapf's, and who had paved +the way for my coming here. + +"You will find it quite unlike anything you have ever +tried before," he warned me. "Very German it is, and +very, very clean, and most inexpensive. Also I think you +will find material there--how is it you call it?--copy, +yes? Well, there should be copy in plenty; and types! +But you shall see." + +From the moment I rang the Knapf doorbell I saw. The +dapper, cheerful Herr Knapf, wearing a disappointed +Kaiser Wilhelm mustache, opened the door. I scarcely had +begun to make my wishes known when he interrupted with a +large wave of the hand, and an elaborate German bow. + +"Ach yes! You would be the lady of whom the Herr +Doktor has spoken. Gewiss! Frau Orme, not? But so a +young lady I did not expect to see. A room we have saved +for you--aber wunderhubsch! It makes me much pleasure to +show. Folgen Sie mir, bitte." + +"You--you speak English?" I faltered, with visions of +my evenings spent in expressing myself in the sign language. + +"Englisch? But yes. Here in Milwaukee it gives aber +mostly German. And then too, I have been only twenty +years in this country. And always in Milwaukee. Here is +it gemutlich--and mostly it gives German." + +I tried not to look frightened, and followed him up +to the "but wonderfully beautiful" room. To my joy I +found it high-ceilinged, airy, and huge, with a great +vault of a clothes closet bristling with hooks, and +boasting an unbelievable number of shelves. My trunk was +swallowed up in it. Never in all my boarding-house +experience have I seen such a room, or such a closet. +The closet must have been built for a bride's trousseau +in the days of hoop-skirts and scuttle bonnets. There +was a separate and distinct hook for each and every one +of my most obscure garments. I tried to spread them out. +I used two hooks to every petticoat, and three for my +kimono, and when I had finished there were rows of hooks +to spare. Tiers of shelves yawned for hat-boxes which I +possessed not. Bluebeard's wives could have held a +family reunion in that closet and invited all of +Solomon's spouses. Finally, in desperation, I gathered +all my poor garments together and hung them in a sociable +bunch on the hooks nearest the door. How I should have +loved to have shown that closet to a select circle of New +York boarding-house landladies! + +After wrestling in vain with the forest of hooks, I +turned my attention to my room. I yanked a towel thing +off the center table and replaced it with a scarf that +Peter had picked up in the Orient. I set up my +typewriter in a corner near a window and dug a gay +cushion or two and a chafing-dish out of my trunk. I +distributed photographs of Norah and Max and the +Spalpeens separately, in couples, and in groups. Then I +bounced up and down in a huge yellow brocade chair and +found it unbelievably soft and comfortable. Of course, +I reflected, after the big veranda, and the apple tree at +Norah's, and the leather-cushioned comfort of her +library, and the charming tones of her Oriental rugs and +hangings-- + +"Oh, stop your carping, Dawn!" I told myself. "You +can't expect charming tones, and Oriental do-dads and +apple trees in a German boarding-house. Anyhow there's +running water in the room. For general utility purposes +that's better than a pink prayer rug." + +There was a time when I thought that it was the +luxuries that made life worth living. That was in +the old Bohemian days. + +"Necessities!" I used to laugh, "Pooh! Who cares +about the necessities! What if the dishpan does leak? +It is the luxuries that count." + +Bohemia and luxuries! Half a dozen lean +boarding-house years have steered me safely past that. +After such a course in common sense you don't stand back +and examine the pictures of a pink Moses in a nest of +purple bullrushes, or complain because the bureau does +not harmonize with the wall paper. Neither do you +criticize the blue and saffron roses that form the rug +pattern. 'Deedy not! Instead you warily punch the +mattress to see if it is rock-stuffed, and you snoop into +the clothes closet; you inquire the distance to the +nearest bath room, and whether the payments are weekly or +monthly, and if there is a baby in the room next door. +Oh, there's nothing like living in a boarding-house for +cultivating the materialistic side. + +But I was to find that here at Knapf's things were +quite different. Not only was Ernst von Gerhard right in +saying that it was "very German, and very, very clean;" +he recognized good copy when he saw it. Types! I never +dreamed that such faces existed outside of the old German +woodcuts that one sees illustrating time-yellowed books. + +I had thought myself hardened to strange +boarding-house dining rooms, with their batteries of +cold, critical women's eyes. I had learned to walk +unruffled in the face of the most carping, suspicious and +the fishiest of these batteries. Therefore on my first +day at Knapf's I went down to dinner in the evening, +quite composed and secure in the knowledge that my collar +was clean and that there was no flaw to find in the fit +of my skirt in the back. + +As I opened the door of my room I heard sounds as of +a violent altercation in progress downstairs. I leaned +over the balusters and listened. The sounds rose and +fell and swelled and boomed. They were German sounds +that started in the throat, gutturally, and spluttered +their way up. They were sounds such as I had not heard +since the night I was sent to cover a Socialist meeting +in New York. I tip-toed down the stairs, although I +might have fallen down and landed with a thud without +having been heard. The din came from the direction of +the dining room. Well, come what might, I would not +falter. After all, it could not be worse than that awful +time when I had helped cover the teamsters' strike. I +peered into the dining room. + +The thunder of conversation went on as before. But +there was no bloodshed. Nothing but men and women +sitting at small tables, eating and talking. When I say +eating and talking I do not mean that those acts were +carried on separately. Not at all. The eating and the +talking went on simultaneously, neither interrupting the +other. A fork full of food and a mouthful of +ten-syllabled German words met, wrestled, and passed one +another, unscathed. I stood in the doorway, fascinated, +until Herr Knapf spied me, took a nimble skip in my +direction, twisted the discouraged mustaches into +temporary sprightliness, and waved me toward a table in +the center of the room. + +Then a frightful thing happened. When I think of it +now I turn cold. The battery was not that of women's +eyes, but of men's. And conversation ceased! The uproar +and the booming of vowels was hushed. The silence was +appalling. I looked up in horror to find that what +seemed to be millions of staring blue eyes were fixed on +me. The stillness was so thick that you could cut it +with a knife. Such men! Immediately I dubbed them the +aborigines, and prayed that I might find adjectives with +which to describe their foreheads. + +It appeared that the aborigines were especially +favored in that they were all placed at one long, untidy +table at the head of the room. The rest of us sat at +small tables. Later I learned that they were all +engineers. At meals they discuss engineering problems in +the most awe-inspiring German. After supper they smoke +impossible German pipes and dozens of cigarettes. They +have bulging, knobby foreheads and bristling pompadours, +and some of the rawest of them wear wild-looking beards, +and thick spectacles, and cravats and trousers that Lew +Fields never even dreamed of. They are all graduates of +high-sounding foreign universities and are horribly +learned and brilliant, but they are the worst mannered +lot I ever saw. + +In the silence that followed my entrance a +red-cheeked maid approached me and asked what I would +have for supper. Supper? I asked. Was not dinner served +in the evening? The aborigines nudged each other and +sniggered like fiendish little school-boys. + +The red-cheeked maid looked at me pityingly. Dinner +was served in the middle of the day, naturlich. For +supper there was Wienerschnitzel, and kalter Aufschnitt, +also Kartoffel Salat, and fresh Kaffeekuchen. + +The room hung breathless on my decision. I wrestled +with a horrible desire to shriek and run. Instead I +managed to mumble an order. The aborigines turned to one +another inquiringly. + +"Was hat sie gesagt?" they asked. "What did she +say?" Whereupon they fell to discussing my hair and +teeth and eyes and complexion in German as crammed with +adjectives as was the rye bread over which I was choking +with caraway. The entire table watched me with +wide-eyed, unabashed interest while I ate, and I advanced +by quick stages from red-faced confusion to purple mirth. +It appeared that my presence was the ground for a heavy +German joke in connection with the youngest of the +aborigines. He was a very plump and greasy looking +aborigine with a doll-like rosiness of cheek and a scared +and bristling pompadour and very small pig-eyes. The +other aborigines clapped him on the back and roared: + +"Ai Fritz! Jetzt brauchst du nicht zu weinen! Deine +Lena war aber nicht so huebsch, eh? " + +Later I learned that Fritz was the newest arrival and +that since coming to this country he had been rather low +in spirits in consequence of a certain flaxen-haired Lena +whom he had left behind in the fatherland. + +An examination of the dining room and its other +occupants served to keep my mind off the hateful long +table. The dining room was a double one, the floor +carpetless and clean. There was a little platform at one +end with hardy-looking plants in pots near the windows. +The wall was ornamented with very German pictures of very +plump, bare-armed German girls being chucked under the +chin by very dashing, mustachioed German lieutenants. It +was all very bare, and strange and foreign to my eyes, +and yet there was something bright and comfortable about +it. I felt that I was going to like it, aborigines and +all. The men drink beer with their supper and read the +Staats-Zeitung and the Germania and foreign papers +that I never heard of. It is uncanny, in these United +States. But it is going to be bully for my German. + +After my first letter home Norah wrote frantically, +demanding to know if I was the only woman in the house. +I calmed her fears by assuring her that, while the men +were interesting and ugly with the fascinating ugliness +of a bulldog, the women were crushed looking and +uninteresting and wore hopeless hats. I have +written Norah and Max reams about this household, from +the aborigines to Minna, who tidies my room and serves my +meals, and admires my clothes. Minna is related to Frau +Knapf, whom I have never seen. Minna is inordinately +fond of dress, and her remarks anent my own garments are +apt to be a trifle disconcerting, especially when she +intersperses her recital of dinner dishes with admiring +adjectives directed at my blouse or hat. Thus: + +"Wir haben roast beef, und spareribs mit Sauerkraut, +und schicken--ach, wie schon, Frau Orme! Aber ganz +prachtvoll!" Her eyes and hands are raised toward +heaven. + +"What's prachtful? " I ask, startled. "The +chicken?" + +"Nein; your waist. Selbst gemacht?" + +I am even becoming hardened to the manners of the +aborigines. It used to fuss me to death to meet one of +them in the halls. They always stopped short, brought +heels together with a click, bent stiffly from the waist, +and thundered: "Nabben', Fraulein!" + +I have learned to take the salutation quite calmly, +and even the wildest, most spectacled and knobby-browed +aborigine cannot startle me. Nonchalantly I reply, +"Nabben'," and wish that Norah could but see me in the +act. + +When I told Ernst von Gerhard about them, he laughed +a little and shrugged his shoulders and said: + +"Na, you should not look so young, and so pretty, and +so unmarried. In Germany a married woman brushes her +hair quite smoothly back, and pins it in a hard knob. +And she knows nothing of such bewildering collars and +fluffy frilled things in the front of the blouse. How do +you call them--jabots?" + +Von Gerhard has not behaved at all nicely. I did not +see him until two weeks after my arrival in Milwaukee, +although he telephoned twice to ask if there was anything +that he could do to make me comfortable. + +"Yes," I had answered the last time that I heard his +voice over the telephone. "It would be a whole heap of +comfort to me just to see you. You are the nearest thing +to Norah that there is in this whole German town, and +goodness knows you're far from Irish." + +He came. The weather had turned suddenly cold and he +was wearing a fur-lined coat with a collar of fur. He +looked most amazingly handsome and blond and splendidly +healthy. The clasp of his hands was just as big and sure +as ever. + +"You have no idea how glad I am to see +you," I told him. "If you had, you would have been here +days ago. Aren't you rather ill-mannered and neglectful, +considering that you are responsible for my being here?" + +"I did not know whether you, a married woman, would +care to have me here," he said, in his composed way. "In +a place like this people are not always kind enough to +take the trouble to understand. And I would not have +them raise their eyebrows at you, not for--" + +"Married!" I laughed, some imp of willfulness seizing +me, "I'm not married. What mockery to say that I am +married simply because I must write madam before my name! +I am not married, and I shall talk to whom I please." + +And then Von Gerhard did a surprising thing. He took +two great steps over to my chair, and grasped my hands +and pulled me to my feet. I stared up at him like a +silly creature. His face was suffused with a dull red, +and his eyes were unbelievably blue and bright. He had +my hands in his great grip, but his voice was very quiet +and contained. + +"You are married," he said. "Never forget that for +a moment. You are bound, hard and fast and tight. And +you are for no man. You are married as much as though +that poor creature in the mad house were here working for +you, instead of the case being reversed as it is. So." + +"What do you mean!" I cried, wrenching myself away +indignantly. "What right have you to talk to me like +this? You know what my life has been, and how I have +tried to smile with my lips and stay young in my heart! +I thought you understood. Norah thought so too, and +Max--" + +"I do understand. I understand so well that I would +not have you talk as you did a moment ago. And I said +what I said not so much for your sake, as for mine. For +see, I too must remember that you write madam before your +name. And sometimes it is hard for me to remember." + +"Oh," I said, like a simpleton, and stood staring +after him as he quietly gathered up his hat and gloves +and left me standing there. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +BLACKIE'S PHILOSOPHY + +I did not write Norah about Von Gerhard. After all, I +told myself, there was nothing to write. And so I was +the first to break the solemn pact that we had made. + +"You will write everything, won't you, Dawn dear?" +Norah had pleaded, with tears, in her pretty eyes. +"Promise me. We've been nearer to each other in these +last few months than we have been since we were girls. +And I've loved it so. Please don't do as you did during +those miserable years in New York, when you were fighting +your troubles alone and we knew nothing of it. You wrote +only the happy things. Promise me you'll write the +unhappy ones too--though the saints forbid that there +should be any to write! And Dawn, don't you dare to +forget your heavy underwear in November. Those lake +breezes!--Well, some one has to tell you, and I can't +leave those to Von Gerhard. He has promised to act as +monitor over your health." + +And so I promised. I crammed my letters with +descriptions of the Knapf household. I assured her that +I was putting on so much weight that the skirts which +formerly hung about me in limp, dejected folds now +refused to meet in the back, and all the hooks and eyes +were making faces at each other. My cheeks, I told her, +looked as if I were wearing plumpers, and I was beginning +to waddle and puff as I walked. + +Norah made frantic answer: + +"For mercy's sake child, be careful or you'll be +FAT!" + +To which I replied: "Don't care if I am. Rather be +hunky and healthy than skinny and sick. Have tried +both." + +It is impossible to avoid becoming round-cheeked when +one is working on a paper that allows one to shut one's +desk and amble comfortably home for dinner at least five +days in the week. Everybody is at least plump in this +comfortable, gemutlich town, where everybody placidly +locks his shop or office and goes home at noon to dine +heavily on soup and meat and vegetables and pudding, +washed down by the inevitable beer and followed by forty +winks on the dining room sofa with the German Zeitung +spread comfortably over the head as protection against +the flies. + +There is a fascination about the bright little city. +There is about it something quaint and foreign, as though +a cross-section of the old world had been dumped bodily +into the lap of Wisconsin. It does not seem at all +strange to hear German spoken everywhere--in the streets, +in the shops, in the theaters, in the street cars. One +day I chanced upon a sign hung above the doorway of a +little German bakery over on the north side. There were +Hornchen and Kaffeekuchen in the windows, and a brood of +flaxen-haired and sticky children in the back of the +shop. I stopped, open-mouthed, to stare at the worn sign +tacked over the door. + +"Hier wird Englisch gesprochen," it announced. + +I blinked. Then I read it again. I shut my eyes, +and opened them again suddenly. The fat German letters +spoke their message as before--"English spoken here." + +On reaching the office I told Norberg, the city +editor, about my find. He was not impressed. Norberg +never is impressed. He is the most soul-satisfying and +theatrical city editor that I have ever met. He is fat, +and unbelievably nimble, and keen-eyed, and untiring. He +says, "Hell!" when things go wrong; he smokes innumerable +cigarettes, inhaling the fumes and sending out the thin +wraith of smoke with little explosive sounds between +tongue and lips; he wears blue shirts, and no collar to +speak of, and his trousers are kept in place only by a +miracle and an inefficient looking leather belt. + +When he refused to see the story in the little German +bakery sign I began to argue. + +"But man alive, this is America! I think I know a +story when I see it. Suppose you were traveling in +Germany, and should come across a sign over a shop, +saying: `Hier wird Deutsch gesprochen.' Wouldn't you +think you were dreaming?" + +Norberg waved an explanatory hand. "This isn't +America. This is Milwaukee. After you've lived here a +year or so you'll understand what I mean. If we should +run a story of that sign, with a two-column cut, +Milwaukee wouldn't even see the joke." + +But it was not necessary that I live in Milwaukee a +year or so in order to understand its peculiarities, for +I had a personal conductor and efficient guide in the new +friend that had come into my life with the first day of +my work on the Post. Surely no woman ever had a stronger +friend than little "Blackie" Griffith, sporting editor of +the Milwaukee Post. We became friends, not step by +step, but in one gigantic leap such as sometimes triumphs +over the gap between acquaintance and liking. + +I never shall forget my first glimpse of him. He +strolled into the city room from his little domicile +across the hall. A shabby, disreputable, out-at-elbows +office coat was worn over his ultra-smart street clothes, +and he was puffing at a freakish little pipe in the shape +of a miniature automobile. He eyed me a moment from the +doorway, a fantastic, elfin little figure. I thought +that I had never seen so strange and so ugly a face as +that of this little brown Welshman with his lank, black +hair and his deep-set, uncanny black eyes. Suddenly he +trotted over to me with a quick little step. In the +doorway he had looked forty. Now a smile illumined the +many lines of his dark countenance, and in some +miraculous way he looked twenty. + +"Are you the New York importation?" he, asked, his +great black eyes searching my face. + +"I'm what's left of it," I replied, meekly. + +"I understand you've been in for repairs. Must of met +up with somethin' on the road. They say the goin' is full +of bumps in N' York." + +"Bumps!" I laughed, "it's uphill every bit of the +road, and yet you've got to go full speed to get +anywhere. But I'm running easily again, thank you." + +He waved away a cloud of pipe-smoke, and knowingly +squinted through the haze. "We don't speed up much here. +And they ain't no hill climbin' t' speak of. But say, if +you ever should hit a nasty place on the route, toot your +siren for me and I'll come. I'm a regular little human +garage when it comes to patchin' up those aggravatin' +screws that need oilin'. And, say, don't let Norberg +bully you. My name's Blackie. I'm goin' t' like you. +Come on over t' my sanctum once in a while and I'll show +you my scrapbook and let you play with the office +revolver." + +And so it happened that I had not been in Milwaukee +a month before Blackie and I were friends. + +Norah was horrified. My letters were full of him. +I told her that she might get a more complete mental +picture of him if she knew that he wore the pinkest +shirts, and the purplest neckties, and the blackest and +whitest of black-and-white checked vests that ever +aroused the envy of an office boy, and beneath them all, +the gentlest of hearts. And therefore one loves him. +There is a sort of spell about the illiterate little +slangy, brown Welshman. He is the presiding genius of +the place. The office boys adore him. The Old Man +takes his advice in selecting a new motor car; the +managing editor arranges his lunch hour to suit Blackie's +and they go off to the Press club together, arm in arm. +It is Blackie who lends a sympathetic ear to the society +editor's tale of woe. He hires and fires the office boys; +boldly he criticizes the news editor's makeup; he receives +delegations of tan-coated, red-faced prizefighting-looking +persons; he gently explains to the photographer why that +last batch of cuts make their subjects look as if afflicted +with the German measles; he arbitrates any row that the +newspaper may have with such dignitaries as the mayor or the +chief of police; he manages boxing shows; he skims about in a +smart little roadster; he edits the best sporting page in +the city; and at four o'clock of an afternoon he likes to +send around the corner for a chunk of devil's food cake +with butter filling from the Woman's Exchange. Blackie +never went to school to speak of. He doesn't know was +from were. But he can "see" a story quicker, and farther +and clearer than any newspaper man I ever knew--excepting +Peter Orme. + +There is a legend about to the effect that one day +the managing editor, who is Scotch and without a sense of +humor, ordered that Blackie should henceforth be +addressed by his surname of Griffith, as being a more +dignified appellation for the use of fellow reporters, +hangers-on, copy kids, office boys and others about the +big building. + +The day after the order was issued the managing +editor summoned a freckled youth and thrust a sheaf of +galley proofs into his hand. + +"Take those to Mr. Griffith," he ordered without +looking up. + +"T' who?" + +"To Mr. Griffith," said the managing editor, +laboriously, and scowling a bit. + +The boy took three unwilling steps toward the door. +Then he turned a puzzled face toward the managing editor. + +"Say, honest, I ain't never heard of dat guy. He +must be a new one. W'ere'll I find him?" + +"Oh, damn! Take those proofs to Blackie!" roared the +managing editor. And thus ended Blackie's enforced +flight into the realms of dignity. + +All these things, and more, I wrote to the +scandalized Norah. I informed her that he wore more +diamond rings and scarf pins and watch fobs than a +railroad conductor, and that his checked top-coat +shrieked to Heaven. + +There came back a letter in which every third word +was underlined, and which ended by asking what the morals +of such a man could be. + +Then I tried to make Blackie more real to Norah who, +in all her sheltered life, had never come in contact with +a man like this. + +" . . . As for his morals--or what you would consider +his morals, Sis--they probably are a deep crimson; but +I'll swear there is no yellow streak. I never have heard +anything more pathetic than his story. Blackie sold +papers on a down-town corner when he was a baby six years +old. Then he got a job as office boy here, and he used +to sharpen pencils, and run errands, and carry copy. +After office hours he took care of some horses in an +alley barn near by, and after that work was done he was +employed about the pressroom of one of the old German +newspaper offices. Sometimes he would be too weary to +crawl home after working half the night, and so he would +fall asleep, a worn, tragic little figure, on a pile of +old papers and sacks in a warm corner near the presses. +He was the head of a household, and every penny counted. +And all the time he was watching things, and learning. +Nothing escaped those keen black eyes. He used to help +the photographer when there was a pile of plates to +develop, and presently he knew more about photography +than the man himself. So they made him staff +photographer. In some marvelous way he knew more ball +players, and fighters and horsemen than the sporting +editor. He had a nose for news that was nothing short of +wonderful. He never went out of the office without +coming back with a story. They used to use him in the +sporting department when a rush was on. Then he became +one of the sporting staff; then assistant sporting +editor; then sporting editor. He knows this paper from +the basement up. He could operate a linotype or act as +managing editor with equal ease. + +"No, I'm afraid that Blackie hasn't had much time for +morals. But, Norah dear, I wish that you could hear him +when he talks about his mother. He may follow doubtful +paths, and associate with questionable people, and wear +restless clothes, but I wouldn't exchange his friendship +for that of a dozen of your ordinary so-called good men. +All these years of work and suffering have made an old +man of little Blackie, although he is young in years. But +they haven't spoiled his heart any. He is able to +distinguish between sham and truth because he has been +obliged to do it ever since he was a child selling papers +on the corner. But he still clings to the office that gave +him his start, although he makes more money in a single week +outside the office than his salary would amount to in half a +year. He says that this is a job that does not interfere +with his work." + +Such is Blackie. Surely the oddest friend a woman +ever had. He possesses a genius for friendship, and a +wonderful understanding of suffering, born of those years +of hardship and privation. Each learned the other's +story, bit by bit, in a series of confidences exchanged +during that peaceful, beatific period that follows just +after the last edition has gone down. Blackie's little +cubby-hole of an office is always blue with smoke, and +cluttered with a thousand odds and ends--photographs, +souvenirs, boxing-gloves, a litter of pipes and tobacco, +a wardrobe of dust-covered discarded coats and hats, and +Blackie in the midst of it all, sunk in the depths of his +swivel chair, and looking like an amiable brown gnome, or +a cheerful little joss-house god come to life. There is +in him an uncanny wisdom which only the streets can +teach. He is one of those born newspaper men who could +not live out of sight of the ticker-tape, and the +copy-hook and the proof-sheet. + +"Y' see, girl, it's like this here," Blackie +explained one day. "W're all workin' for some good +reason. A few of us are workin' for the glory of it, and +most of us are workin' t' eat, and lots of us are +pluggin' an' savin' in the hopes that some day we'll have +money enough to get back at some people we know; but +there is some few workin' for the pure love of the +work--and I guess I'm one of them fools. Y' see, I +started in at this game when I was such a little runt +that now it's a ingrowing habit, though it is comfortin' +t' know you got a place where you c'n always come in out +of the rain, and where you c'n have your mail sent." + +"This newspaper work is a curse," I remarked. "Show +me a clever newspaper man and I'll show you a failure. +There is nothing in it but the glory--and little of that. +We contrive and scheme and run about all day getting a +story. And then we write it at fever heat, searching our +souls for words that are cleancut and virile. And then +we turn it in, and what is it? What have we to show for +our day's work? An ephemeral thing, lacking the first +breath of life; a thing that is dead before +it is born. Why, any cub reporter, if he were to put +into some other profession the same amount of nerve, and +tact, and ingenuity and finesse, and stick-to-it-iveness +that he expends in prying a single story out of some +unwilling victim, could retire with a fortune in no +time." + +Blackie blew down the stem of his pipe, preparatory +to re-filling the bowl. There was a quizzical light in +his black eyes. The little heap of burned matches at his +elbow was growing to kindling wood proportions. It was +common knowledge that Blackie's trick of lighting pipe or +cigarette and then forgetting to puff at it caused his +bill for matches to exceed his tobacco expense account. + +"You talk," chuckled Blackie, "like you meant it. +But sa-a-ay, girl, it's a lonesome game, this retirin' +with a fortune. I've noticed that them guys who retire +with a barrel of money usually dies at the end of the +first year, of a kind of a lingerin' homesickness. You +c'n see their pictures in th' papers, with a pathetic +story of how they was just beginnin' t' enjoy life when +along comes the grim reaper an' claims 'em."} + +Blackie slid down in his chair and blew a column of +smoke ceilingward. + +"I knew a guy once--newspaper man, too--who retired +with a fortune. He used to do the city hall for us. +Well, he got in soft with the new administration before +election, and made quite a pile in stocks that was tipped +off to him by his political friends. His wife was crazy +for him to quit the newspaper game. He done it. An' +say, that guy kept on gettin' richer and richer till even +his wife was almost satisfied. But sa-a-ay, girl, was +that chap lonesome! One day he come up here looking like +a dog that's run off with the steak. He was just dyin' +for a kind word, an' he sniffed the smell of the ink and +the hot metal like it was June roses. He kind of wanders +over to his old desk and slumps down in the chair, and +tips it back, and puts his feet on the desk, with his hat +tipped back, and a bum stogie in his mouth. And along +came a kid with a bunch of papers wet from the presses +and sticks one in his hand, and--well, girl, that fellow, +he just wriggled he was so happy. You know as well as I +do that every man on a morning paper spends his day off +hanging around the office wishin' that a mob or a fire or +somethin' big would tear lose so he could get back into +the game. I guess I told you about the time Von Gerhard +sent me abroad, didn't I?" + +"Von Gerhard!" I repeated, startled. "Do you know +him?" + +"Well, he ain't braggin' about it none," Blackie +admitted. "Von Gerhard, he told me I had about five +years or so t' live, about two, three years ago. He +don't approve of me. Pried into my private life, old Von +Gerhard did, somethin' scand'lous. I had sort of went to +pieces about that time, and I went t' him to be patched +up. He thumps me fore 'an' aft, firing a volley of +questions, lookin' up the roof of m' mouth, and squintin' +at m' finger nails an' teeth like I was a prize horse for +sale. Then he sits still, lookin' at me for about half +a minute, till I begin t' feel uncomfortable. Then he +says, slow: `Young man, how old are you?' + +"`O, twenty-eight or so,' I says, airy. + +"`My Gawd!' said he. `You've crammed twice those +years into your life, and you'll have to pay for it. Now +you listen t' me. You got t' quit workin', an' smokin', +and get away from this. Take a ocean voyage,' he says, +`an' try to get four hours sleep a night, anyway.' + +"Well say, mother she was scared green. So I tucked +her under m' arm, and we hit it up across the ocean. +Went t' Germany, knowin' that it would feel homelike +there, an' we took in all the swell baden, and chased up +the Jungfrau -- sa-a-ay, that's a classy little mountain, +that Jungfrau. Mother, she had some swell time I guess. +She never set down except for meals, and she wrote picture +postals like mad. But sa-a-ay, girl, was I lonesome! Maybe +that trip done me good. Anyway, I'm livin' yet. I stuck it +out for four months, an' that ain't so rotten for a guy who +just grew up on printer's ink ever since he was old +enough to hold a bunch of papers under his arm. Well, +one day mother an' me was sittin' out on one of them +veranda cafes they run to over there, w'en somebody hits +me a crack on the shoulder, an' there stands old Ryan who +used t' do A. P. here. He was foreign correspondent for +some big New York syndicate papers over there. + +"`Well if it ain't Blackie!' he says. `What in Sam +Hill are you doing out of your own cell when Milwaukee's +just got four more games t' win the pennant?' + +"Sa-a-a-ay, girl, w'en I got through huggin' him +around the neck an' buyin' him drinks I knew it was me +for the big ship. `Mother,' I says, `if you got anybody +on your mind that you neglected t' send picture postals +to, now's' your last chance. 'F I got to die I'm going +out with m' scissors in one mitt, and m' trusty paste-pot +by m' side!' An' we hits it up for old Milwaukee. I +ain't been away since, except w'en I was out with the +ball team, sending in sportin' extry dope for the pink +sheet. The last time I was in at Baumbach's in comes Von +Gerhard an'--" + +"Who are Baumbach's?" I interrupted. + +Blackie regarded me pityingly. "You ain't never been +to Baumbach's? Why girl, if you don't know Baumbach's, +you ain't never been properly introduced to Milwaukee. +No wonder you ain't hep to the ways of this little +community. There ain't what the s'ciety editor would +call the proper ontong cordyal between you and the +natives if you haven't had coffee at Baumbach's. It +ain't hardly legal t' live in Milwaukee all this time +without ever having been inside of B--" + +"Stop! If you do not tell me at once just where this +wonderful place may be found, and what one does when one +finds it, and how I happened to miss it, and why it is so +necessary to the proper understanding of the city--" + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Blackie, grinning, +"I'll romp you over there to-morrow afternoon at four +o'clock. Ach Himmel! What will that for a grand time +be, no?" + +"Blackie, you're a dear to be so polite to an old +married cratur' like me. Did you notice--that is, does +Ernst von Gerhard drop in often at Baumbach's? " + + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +KAFFEE AND KAFFEEKUCHEN + + +I have visited Baumbach's. I have heard Milwaukee +drinking its afternoon Kaffee. + +O Baumbach's, with your deliciously crumbling butter +cookies and your kaffee kuchen, and your thick cream, and +your thicker waitresses and your cockroaches, and your +dinginess and your dowdy German ladies and your black, +black Kaffee,where in this country is there another like +you! + +Blackie, true to his promise, had hailed me from the +doorway on the afternoon of the following day. In the +rush of the day's work I had quite forgotten about +Blackie and Baumbach's. + +"Come, Kindchen!" he called. "Get your bonnet on. +We will by Baumbach's go, no?" + +Ruefully I gazed at the grimy cuffs of my blouse, and +felt of my dishevelled hair. "Oh, I'm afraid I can't go. +I look so mussy. Haven't had time to brush up." + +"Brush up!" scoffed Blackie, "the only thing +about you that will need brushin' up is your German. I +was goin' t' warn you to rumple up your hair a little so +you wouldn't feel overdressed w'en you got there. Come +on, girl." + +And so I came. And oh, I'm so glad I came! + +I must have passed it a dozen times without once +noticing it--just a dingy little black shop nestling +between two taller buildings, almost within the shadow of +the city hall. Over the sidewalk swung a shabby black +sign with gilt letters that spelled, "Franz Baumbach." + +Blackie waved an introductory hand in the direction +of the sign. "There he is. That's all you'll ever see +of him." + +"Dead? " asked I, regretfully, as we entered the +narrow doorway. + +"No; down in the basement baking Kaffeekuchen." + +Two tiny show-windows faced the street--such queer, +old-fashioned windows in these days of plate glass. At +the back they were quite open to the shop, and in one of +them reposed a huge, white, immovable structure--a +majestic, heavy, nutty, surely indigestible birthday +cake. Around its edge were flutings and scrolls of white +icing, and on its broad breast reposed cherries, and +stout butterflies of jelly, and cunning traceries of +colored sugar. It was quite the dressiest cake I had +ever beheld. Surely no human hand could be wanton enough +to guide a knife through all that magnificence. But in +the center of all this splendor was an inscription in +heavy white letters of icing: "Charlottens +Geburtstag." + +Reluctantly I tore my gaze from this imposing example +of the German confectioner's art, for Blackie was tugging +impatiently at my sleeve. + +"But Blackie," I marveled, "do you honestly suppose +that that structure is intended for some Charlotte's +birthday?" + +"In Milwaukee," explained Blackie, "w'en you got a +birthday you got t' have a geburtstag cake, with your +name on it, and all the cousins and aunts and members of +the North Side Frauen Turner Verein Gesellchaft, in for +the day. It ain't considered decent if you don't. Are +you ready to fight your way into the main tent?" + +It was holiday time, and the single narrow aisle of +the front shop was crowded. It was not easy to elbow +one's way through the packed little space. Men and women +were ordering recklessly of the cakes of every +description that were heaped in cases and on shelves. + +Cakes! What a pale; dry name to apply to those +crumbling, melting, indigestible German +confections! Blackie grinned with enjoyment while I +gazed. There were cakes the like of which I had never +seen and of which I did not even know the names. There +were little round cup cakes made of almond paste that +melts in the mouth; there were Schnecken glazed with a +delicious candied brown sugar; there were Bismarcks +composed of layer upon layer of flaky crust inlaid with +an oozy custard that evades the eager consumer at the +first bite, and that slides down one's collar when chased +with a pursuing tongue. There were Pfeffernusse; there, +were Lebkuchen; there were cheese-kuchen; plum-kuchen, +peach-kuchen, Apfelkuchen, the juicy fruit stuck thickly +into the crust, the whole dusted over with powdered +sugar. There were Torten, and Hornchen, and butter +cookies. + +Blackie touched my arm, and I tore my gaze from a +cherry-studded Schaumtorte that was being reverently +packed for delivery. + +"My, what a greedy girl! Now get your mind all made +up. This is your chance. You know you're supposed t' +take a slant at th' things an' make up your mind w'at you +want before you go back w'ere th' tables are. Don't +fumble this thing. When Olga or Minna comes waddlin' up +t' you an' says: `Nu, Fraulein?' you gotta tell her +whether your heart says plum-kuchen oder Nusstorte, or +both, see? Just like that. Now make up your mind. I'd +hate t' have you blunder. Have you decided?" + +"Decided! How can I?" I moaned, watching a +black-haired, black-eyed Alsatian girl behind the counter +as she rolled a piece of white paper into a cone and +dipped a spoonful of whipped cream from a great brown +bowl heaped high with the snowy stuff. She filled the +paper cone, inserted the point of it into one end of a +hollow pastry horn, and gently squeezed. Presto! A +cream-filled Hornchen! + +"Oh, Blackie!" I gasped. "Come on. I want to go in +and eat." + +As we elbowed our way to the rear room separated from +the front shop only by a flimsy wooden partition, I +expected I know not what. + +But surely this was not Blackie's much-vaunted +Baumbach's! This long, narrow, dingy room, with its bare +floor and its iron-legged tables whose bare marble tops +were yellow with age and use! I said nothing as we +seated ourselves. Blackie was watching me out of the +tail of his eye. My glance wandered about the shabby, +smoke-filled room, and slowly and surely the charm of +that fusty, dingy little cafe came upon me. + +A huge stove glowed red in one corner. On +the wall behind the stove was suspended a wooden rack, +black with age, its compartments holding German, Austrian +and Hungarian newspapers. Against the opposite wall +stood an ancient walnut mirror, and above it hung a +colored print of Bismarck, helmeted, uniformed, and +fiercely mustached. The clumsy iron-legged tables stood +in two solemn rows down the length of the narrow room. +Three or four stout, blond girls plodded back and forth, +from tables to front shop, bearing trays of cakes and +steaming cups of coffee. There was a rumble and clatter +of German. Every one seemed to know every one else. A +game of chess was in progress at one table, and between +moves each contestant would refresh himself with a +long-drawn, sibilant mouthful of coffee. There was +nothing about the place or its occupants to remind one of +America. This dim, smoky, cake-scented cafe was Germany. + +"Time!" said Blackie. "Here comes Rosie to take our +order. You can take your choice of coffee or chocolate. +That's as fancy as they get here." + +An expansive blond girl paused at our table smiling +a broad welcome at Blackie. + +"Wie geht's, Roschen?" he greeted her. Roschen's +smile became still more pervasive, so that her blue eyes +disappeared in creases of good humor. She wiped the +marble table top with a large and careless gesture that +precipitated stray crumbs into our laps. "Gut!" murmured +she, coyly, and leaned one hand on a portly hip in an +attitude of waiting. + +"Coffee?" asked Blackie, turning to me. I nodded. + +"Zweimal Kaffee?" beamed Roschen, grasping the idea. + +"Now's your time to speak up," urged Blackie. "Go +ahead an' order all the cream gefillte things that looked +good to you out in front." + +But I leaned forward, lowering my voice discreetly. +"Blackie, before I plunge in too recklessly, tell me, are +their prices very--" + +"Sa-a-ay, child, you just can't spend half a dollar +here if you try. The flossiest kind of thing they got is +only ten cents a order. They'll smother you in whipped +cream f'r a quarter. You c'n come in here an' eat an' +eat an' put away piles of cakes till you feel like a +combination of Little Jack Horner an' old Doc Johnson. +An' w'en you're all through, they hand yuh your check, +an', say--it says forty-five cents. You can't beat it, +so wade right in an' spoil your complexion." + +With enthusiasm I turned upon the patient Rosie. "O, +bring me some of those cunning little round things with +the cream on 'em, you know--two of those, eh Blackie? +And a couple of those with the flaky crust and the +custard between, and a slice of that fluffy-looking cake +and some of those funny cocked-hat shaped cookies--" + +But a pall of bewilderment was slowly settling over +Rosie's erstwhile smiling face. Her plump shoulders went +up in a helpless shrug, and she turned her round blue +eyes appealingly to Blackie. + +"Was meint sie alles?" she asked. + +So I began all over again, with the assistance of +Blackie. We went into minute detail. We made elaborate +gestures. We drew pictures of our desired goodies on the +marble-topped table, using a soft-lead pencil. Rosie's +countenance wore a distracted look. In desperation I was +about to accompany her to the crowded shop, there to +point out my chosen dainties when suddenly, as they would +put it here, a light went her over. + +"Ach, yes-s-s-s! Sie wollten vielleicht abgeruhrter +Gugelhopf haben, und auch Schaumtorte, und Bismarcks, und +Hornchen mit cream gefullt, nicht?" + +"Certainly," I murmured, quite crushed. Roschen +waddled merrily off to the shop. + +Blackie was rolling a cigarette. He ran his funny +little red tongue along the edge of the paper and glanced +up at me in glee. "Don't bother about me," he generously +observed. "Just set still and let the atmosphere soak +in." + +But already I was lost in contemplation of a +red-faced, pompadoured German who was drinking coffee and +reading the Fliegende Blatter at a table just across +the way. There were counterparts of my aborigines at +Knapf's--thick spectacled engineers with high foreheads-- +actors and actresses from the German stock company-- +reporters from the English and German newspapers-- +business men with comfortable German consciences-- +long-haired musicians--dapper young lawyers--a giggling +group of college girls and boys--a couple of smartly +dressed women nibbling appreciatively at slices of +Nusstorte--low-voiced lovers whose coffee cups stood +untouched at their elbows, while no fragrant cloud of +steam rose to indicate that there was warmth within. +Their glances grow warmer as the neglected Kaffee grows +colder. The color comes and goes in the girl's face and +I watch it, a bit enviously, marveling that the old story +still should be so new. + +At a large square table near the doorway a group of +eight men were absorbed in an animated political +discussion, accompanied by much waving of arms, and +thundering of gutturals. It appeared to be a table of +importance, for the high-backed bench that ran along one +side was upholstered in worn red velvet, and every +newcomer paused a moment to nod or to say a word in +greeting. It was not of American politics that they +talked, but of the politics of Austria and Hungary. +Finally the argument resolved itself into a duel of words +between a handsome, red-faced German whose rosy skin +seemed to take on a deeper tone in contrast to the +whiteness of his hair and mustache, and a swarthy young +fellow whose thick spectacles and heavy mane of black +hair gave him the look of a caricature out of an +illustrated German weekly. The red-faced man argued +loudly, with much rapping of bare knuckles on the table +top. But the dark man spoke seldom, and softly, with a +little twisted half-smile on his lips; and whenever he +spoke the red-faced man grew redder, and there came a +huge laugh from the others who sat listening. + +"Say, wouldn't it curdle your English?" Blackie +laughed. + +Solemnly I turned to him. "Blackie Griffith, +these people do not even realize that there is anything +unusual about this." + +"Sure not; that's the beauty of it. They don't need +to make no artificial atmosphere for this place; it just +grows wild, like dandelions. Everybody comes here for +their coffee because their aunts an' uncles and +Grossmutters and Grosspapas used t' come, and come yet, +if they're livin'! An', after all, what is it but a +little German bakery?" + +"But O, wise Herr Baumbach down in the kitchen! O, +subtle Frau Baumbach back of the desk!" said I. "Others +may fit their shops with mirrors, and cut-glass +chandeliers and Oriental rugs and mahogany, but you sit +serenely by, and you smile, and you change nothing. You +let the brown walls grow dimmer with age; you see the +marble-topped tables turning yellow; you leave bare your +wooden floor, and you smile, and smile, and smile." + +"Fine!" applauded Blackie. "You're on. And here +comes Rosie." + +Rosie, the radiant, placed on the table cups and +saucers of an unbelievable thickness. She set them down +on the marble surface with a crash as one who knows well +that no mere marble or granite could shatter the solidity +of those stout earthenware receptacles. Napkins there +were none. I was to learn that fingers were rid of any +clinging remnants of cream or crumb by the simple +expedient of licking them. + +Blackie emptied his pitcher of cream into his cup of +black, black coffee, sugared it, stirred, tasted, and +then, with a wicked gleam in his black eyes he lifted the +heavy cup to his lips and took a long, gurgling mouthful. + +"Blackie," I hissed, "if you do that again I shall +refuse to speak to you!" + +"Do what?" demanded he, all injured innocence. + +"Snuffle up your coffee like that." + +"Why, girl, that's th' proper way t' drink coffee +here. Listen t' everybody else." And while I glared he +wrapped his hand lovingly about his cup, holding the +spoon imprisoned between first and second fingers, and +took another sibilant mouthful. "Any more of your back +talk and I'll drink it out of m' saucer an' blow on it +like the hefty party over there in the earrings is doin'. +Calm yerself an' try a Bismarck." + +I picked up one of the flaky confections and eyed it +in despair. There were no plates except that on which +the cakes reposed. + +"How does one eat them?" I inquired. + +"Yuh don't really eat 'em. The motion is +more like inhalin'. T' eat 'em successful you really +ought t' get into a bath-tub half-filled with water, +because as soon's you bite in at one end w'y the custard +stuff slides out at the other, an' no human mouth c'n be +two places at oncet. Shut your eyes girl, an' just wade +in." + +I waded. In silence I took a deep delicious bite, +nimbly chased the coy filling around a corner with my +tongue, devoured every bit down to the last crumb and +licked the stickiness off my fingers. Then I +investigated the interior of the next cake. + +"I'm coming here every day," I announced. + +"Better not. Ruin your complexion and turn all your +lines into bumps. Look at the dame with the earrings. +I've been keepin' count an' I've seen her eat three +Schnecken, two cream puffs, a Nusshornchen and a slice of +Torte with two cups of coffee. Ain't she a horrible +example! And yet she's got th' nerve t' wear a princess +gown!" + +"I don't care," I replied, recklessly, my voice +choked with whipped cream and butteriness. "I can just +feel myself getting greasy. Haven't I done beautifully +for a new hand? Now tell me about some of these people. +Who is the funny little man in the checked suit with the +black braid trimming, and the green cravat, and the +white spats, and the tan hat and the eyeglasses?" + +"Ain't them th' dizzy habiliments? "A note of envy +crept into Blackie's voice. "His name is Hugo Luders. +Used t' be a reporter on the Germania, but he's +reformed and gone into advertisin', where there's real +money. Some say he wears them clo'es on a bet, and some +say his taste in dress is a curse descended upon him from +Joseph, the guy with the fancy coat, but I think he +wears'em because he fancies 'em. He's been coming here +ever' afternoon for twelve years, has a cup of coffee, +game of chess, and a pow-wow with a bunch of cronies. If +Baumbach's ever decide to paint the front of their shop +or put in cut glass fixtures and handpainted china, Hugo +Luders would serve an injunction on 'em. Next!" + +"Who's the woman with the leathery complexion and the +belt to match, and the untidy hair and the big feet? I +like her face. And why does she sit at a table with all +those strange-looking men? And who are all the men? And +who is the fur-lined grand opera tenor just coming in-- +Oh!" + +Blackie glanced over his shoulder just as the tall +man in the doorway turned his face toward us. "That? +Why, girl, that's Von Gerhard, the man who gives me one +more year t' live. Look at everybody kowtowing to him. +He don't favor Baumbach's often. Too busy patching up the +nervous wrecks that are washed up on his shores." + +The tall figure in the doorway was glancing from +table to table, nodding here and there to an +acquaintance. His eyes traveled the length of the room. +Now they were nearing us. I felt a sudden, inexplicable +tightening at heart and throat, as though fingers were +clutching there. Then his eyes met mine, and I felt the +blood rushing to my face as he came swiftly over to our +table and took my hand in his. + +"So you have discovered Baumbach's," he said. "May +I have my coffee and cigar here with you? " + +"Blackie here is responsible for my being initiated +into the sticky mysteries of Baumbach's. I never should +have discovered it if he had not offered to act as +personal conductor. You know one another, I believe?" + +The two men shook hands across the table. There was +something forced and graceless about the act. Blackie +eyed Von Gerhard through a misty curtain of cigarette +smoke. Von Gerhard gazed at Blackie through narrowed +lids as he lighted his cigar. +"I'm th' gink you killed off two or three years back," +Blackie explained. + +"I remember you perfectly," Von Gerhard returned, +courteously. "I rejoice to see that I was mistaken." + +"Well," drawled Blackie, a wicked gleam in his black +eyes, "I'm some rejoiced m'self, old top. Angel wings +and a white kimono, worn bare-footy, would go some rotten +with my Spanish style of beauty, what? Didn't know that +you and m'dame friend here was acquainted. Known each +other long? + +I felt myself flushing again. + +"I knew Dr. von Gerhard back home. I've scarcely +seen him since I have been here. Famous specialists +can't be bothered with middle-aged relatives of their +college friends, can they, Herr Doktor?" + +And now it was Von Gerhard's face that flushed a deep +and painful crimson. He looked at me, in silence, and I +felt very little, and insignificant, and much like an +impudent child who has stuck out its tongue at its +elders. Silent men always affect talkative women in that +way. + +"You know that what you say is not true," he said, +slowly. + +"Well, we won't quibble. We--we were just about to +leave, weren't we Blackie?" + +"Just," said Blackie, rising. "Sorry t' see you +drinkin' Baumbach's coffee, Doc. It ain't fair t' your +patients." + +"Quite right," replied Von Gerhard; and rose with us. +"I shall not drink it. I shall walk home with Mrs. Orme +instead, if she will allow me. That will be more +stimulating than coffee, and twice as dangerous, perhaps, +but--" + +"You know how I hate that sort of thing," I said, +coldly, as we passed from the warmth of the little front +shop where the plump girls were still filling pasteboard +boxes with holiday cakes, to the brisk chill of the +winter street. The little black-and-gilt sign swung and +creaked in the wind. Whimsically, and with the memory of +that last cream-filled cake fresh in my mind, I saluted +the letters that spelled "Franz Baumbach." + +Blackie chuckled impishly. "Just the, same, try a +pinch of soda bicarb'nate when you get home, Dawn," he +advised. "Well, I'm off to the factory again. Got t' +make up for time wasted on m' lady friend. Auf +wiedersehen!" + +And the little figure in the checked top-coat trotted +off. + +"But he called you--Dawn," broke from Von Gerhard. + +"Mhum," I agreed. "My name's Dawn." + +"Surely not to him. You have known him but a few +weeks. I would not have presumed--" + +"Blackie never presumes," I laughed. "Blackie's +just--Blackie. Imagine taking offense at him! He knows +every one by their given name, from Jo, the boss of the +pressroom, to the Chief, who imports his office coats +from London. Besides, Blackie and I are newspaper men. +And people don't scrape and bow in a newspaper office-- +especially when they're fond of one another. You +wouldn't understand." + +As I looked at Von Gerhard in the light of the street +lamp I saw a tense, drawn look about the little group of +muscles which show when the teeth are set hard. When he +spoke those muscles had relaxed but little. + +"One man does not talk ill of another. But this is +different. I want to ask you--do you know what manner of +man this--this Blackie is? I ask you because I would +have you safe and sheltered always from such as he-- +because I--" + +"Safe! From Blackie? Now listen. There never was +a safer, saner, truer, more generous friend. Oh, I know +what his life has been. But what else could it have been, +beginning as he did? I have no wish to reform him. I +tried my hand at reforming one man, and made a glorious +mess of it. So I'll just take Blackie as he is, if you +please--slang, wickedness, pink shirt, red necktie, +diamond rings and all. If there's any bad in him, we +all know it, for it's right down on the table, face up. +You're just angry because he called you Doc." + +"Small one," said Von Gerhard, in his quaint German +idiom, "we will not quarrel, you and I. If I have been +neglectful it was because edged tools were never a chosen +plaything of mine. Perhaps your little Blackie realizes +that he need have no fear of such things, for the Great +Fear is upon him." + +"The Great Fear! You mean!--" + +"I mean that there are too many fine little lines +radiating from the corners of the sunken eyes, and that +his hand-clasp leaves a moisture in the palm. Ach! you +may laugh. Come, we will change the subject to something +more cheerful, yes? Tell me, how grows the book?" + +"By inches. After working all day on a bulletin +paper whose city editor is constantly shouting: `Boil it +now, fellows! Keep it down! We're crowded!' it is too +much of a wrench to find myself seated calmly before my +own typewriter at night, privileged to write one hundred +thousand words if I choose. I can't get over the habit of +crowding the story all into the first paragraph. Whenever +I flower into a descriptive passage I glance nervously +over my shoulder, expecting to find Norberg stationed +behind me, scissors and blue pencil in hand. +Consequently the book, thus far, sounds very much like a +police reporter's story of a fire four minutes before the +paper is due to go to press." + +Von Gerhard's face was unsmiling. "So," he said, +slowly. "You burn the candle at both ends. All day you +write, is it not so? And at night you come home to write +still more? Ach, Kindchen!--Na, we shall change all +that. We will be better comrades, we two, yes? You +remember that gay little walk of last autumn, when we +explored the Michigan country lane at dusk? I shall be +your Sunday Schatz, and there shall be more rambles like +that one, to bring the roses into your cheeks. We shall +be good Kameraden, as you and this little Griffith are-- +what is it they say--good fellows? That is it--good +fellows, yes? So, shall we shake hands on it? " + +But I snatched my hand away. "I don't +want to be a good fellow," I cried. "I'm tired of being +a good fellow. I've been a good fellow for years and +years, while every other married woman in the world has +been happy in her own home, bringing up her babies. When +I am old I want some sons to worry me, too, and to stay +awake nights for, and some daughters to keep me young, +and to prevent me from doing my hair in a knob and +wearing bonnets! I hate good-fellow women, and so do +you, and so does every one else! I--I--" + +"Dawn!" cried Von Gerhard. But I ran up the steps +and into the house and slammed the door behind me, +leaving him standing there. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +THE LADY FROM VIENNA + + +Two more aborigines have appeared. One of them is a +lady aborigine. They made their entrance at supper and +I forgot to eat, watching them. The new-comers are from +Vienna. He is an expert engineer and she is a woman of +noble birth, with a history. Their combined appearance +is calculated to strike terror to the heart. He is +daringly ugly, with a chin that curves in under his lip +and then out in a peak, like pictures of Punch. She wore +a gray gown of a style I never had seen before and never +expect to see again. It was fastened with huge black +buttons all the way down the breathlessly tight front, +and the upper part was composed of that pre-historic +garment known as a basque. She curved in where she +should have curved out, and she bulged where she should +have had "lines." About her neck was suspended a string +of cannon-ball beads that clanked as she walked. On her +forehead rested a sparse fringe. + +"Mein Himmel!" thought I. "Am I dreaming? This +isn't Wisconsin. This is Nurnberg, or Strassburg, with +a dash of Heidelberg and Berlin thrown in. Dawn, old +girl, it's going to be more instructive than a Cook's +tour." + +That turned out to be the truest prophecy I ever +made. + +The first surprising thing that the new-comers did +was to seat themselves at the long table with the other +aborigines, the lady aborigine being the only woman among +the twelve men. It was plain that they had known one +another previous to this meeting, for they became very +good friends at once, and the men grew heavily humorous +about there being thirteen at table. + +At that the lady aborigine began to laugh. +Straightway I forgot the outlandish gown, forgot the +cannon-ball beads, forgot the sparse fringe, forgave the +absence of "lines." Such a voice! A lilting, melodious +thing. She broke into a torrent of speech, with +bewildering gestures, and I saw that her hands were +exquisitely formed and as expressive as her voice. Her +German was the musical tongue of the Viennese, possessing +none of the gutturals and sputterings. When she crowned +it with the gay little trilling laugh my views on the +language underwent a lightning change. It seemed the most +natural thing in the world to see her open the flat, +silver case that dangled at the end of the cannon-ball +chain, take out a cigarette, light it, and smoke it there +in that little German dining room. She wore the most +gracefully nonchalant air imaginable as she blew little +rings and wreaths, and laughed and chatted brightly with +her husband and the other men. Occasionally she broke +into French, her accent as charmingly perfect as it had +been in her native tongue. There was a moment of +breathless staring on the part of the respectable +middle-class Frauen at the other tables. Then they +shrugged their shoulders and plunged into their meal +again. There was a certain little high-born air of +assurance about that cigarette-smoking that no amount of +staring could ruffle. + +Watching the new aborigines grew to be a sort of +game. The lady aborigine of the golden voice, and the +ugly husband of the peaked chin had a strange fascination +for me. I scrambled downstairs at meal time in order not +to miss them, and I dawdled over the meal so that I need +not leave before they. I discovered that when the lady +aborigine was animated, her face was that of a young woman, +possessing a certain high-bred charm, but that when in +repose the face of the lady aborigine was that of a very +old and tired woman indeed. Also that her husband +bullied her, and that when he did that she looked at him +worshipingly. + +Then one evening, a week or so after the appearance +of the new aborigines, there came a clumping at my door. +I was seated at my typewriter and the book was balkier +than usual, and I wished that the clumper at the door +would go away. + +"Come!" I called, ungraciously enough. Then, on +second thought: "Herein!" + +The knob turned slowly, and the door opened just +enough to admit the top of a head crowned with a tight, +moist German knob of hair. I searched my memory to +recognize the knob, failed utterly and said again, this +time with mingled curiosity and hospitality: + +"Won't you come in?" + +The apparently bodiless head thrust itself forward a +bit, disclosing an apologetically smiling face, with high +check bones that glistened with friendliness and +scrubbing. + +"Nabben', Fraulein," said the head. + +"Nabben'," I replied, more mystified than ever. +"Howdy do! Is there anything--" + +The head thrust itself forward still more, showing a +pair of plump shoulders as its support. Then the plump +shoulders heaved into the room, disclosing a stout, +starched gingham body. + +"Ich bin Frau Knapf," announced the beaming vision. + +Now up to this time Frau Knapf had maintained a Mrs. +Harris-like mysteriousness. I had heard rumors of her, +and I had partaken of certain crispy dishes of German +extraction, reported to have come from her deft hands, +but I had not even caught a glimpse of her skirts +whisking around a corner. + +Therefore: "Frau Knapf!" I repeated. "Nonsense! +There ain't no sich person--that is, I'm glad to see you. +Won't you come in and sit down?" + +"Ach, no!" smiled the substantial Frau Knapf, +clinging tightly to the door knob. "I got no time. It +gives much to do to-night yet. Kuchen dough I must set, +und ich weiss nicht was. I got no time." + +Bustling, red-cheeked Frau Knapf! This was why I had +never had a glimpse of her. Always, she got no time. +For while Herr Knapf, dapper and genial, welcomed +new-comers, chatted with the diners, poured a glass +of foaming Doppel-brau for Herr Weber or, dexterously +carved fowl for the aborigines' table, Frau Knapf was +making the wheels go round. I discovered that it was she +who bakes the melting, golden German Pfannkuchen on +Sunday mornings; she it is who fries the crisp and +hissing Wienerschnitzel; she it is who prepares the plump +ducklings, and the thick gravies, and the steaming lentil +soup and the rosy sausages nestling coyly in their bed of +sauerkraut. All the week Frau Knapf bakes and broils and +stews, her rosy cheeks taking on a twinkling crimson from +the fire over which she bends. But on Sunday night Frau +Knapf sheds her huge apron and rolls down the sleeves +from her plump arms. On Sunday evening she leaves pots +and pans and cooking, and is a transformed Frau Knapf. +Then does she don a bright blue silk waist and a velvet +coat that is dripping with jet, and a black bonnet on +which are perched palpitating birds and weary-looking +plumes. Then she and Herr Knapf walk comfortably down to +the Pabst theater to see the German play by the German +stock company. They applaud their favorite stout, blond, +German comedienne as she romps through the acts of a +sprightly German comedy, and after the play they go to +their favorite Wein-stube around the corner. There they +have sardellen and cheese sandwiches and a great deal of +beer, and for one charmed evening Frau Knapf forgets all +about the insides of geese and the thickening for gravies, +and is happy. + +Many of these things Frau Knapf herself told me, +standing there by the door with the Kuchen heavy on her +mind. Some of them I got from Ernst von Gerhard when I +told him about my visitor and her errand. The errand was +not disclosed until Frau Knapf had caught me casting a +despairing glance at my last typewritten page. + +"Ach, see! you got no time for talking to, ain't it?" +she apologized. + +"Heaps of time," I politely assured her, "don't +hurry. But why not have a chair and be comfortable?" + +Frau Knapf was not to be deceived. "I go in a +minute. But first it is something I like to ask you. +You know maybe Frau Nirlanger?" + +I shook my head. + +"But sure you must know. From Vienna she is, with +such a voice like a bird." + +"And the beads, and the gray gown, and the fringe, +and the cigarettes?" + +"And the oogly husband," finished Frau Knapf, nodding. + +"Oogly," I agreed, "isn't the name for it. And so +she is Frau Nirlanger? I thought there would be a Von at +the very least." + +Whereupon my visitor deserted the doorknob, took half +a dozen stealthy steps in my direction and lowered her +voice to a hissing whisper of confidence. + +"It is more as a Von. I will tell you. Today comes +Frau Nirlanger by me and she says: `Frau Knapf, I wish +to buy clothes, aber echt Amerikanische. Myself, I do +not know what is modish, and I cannot go alone to buy.'" + +"That's a grand idea," said I, recalling the gray +basque and the cannon-ball beads. + +"Ja, sure it is," agreed Frau Knapf. "Soo-o-o, she +asks me was it some lady who would come with her by the +stores to help a hat and suit and dresses to buy. +Stylish she likes they should be, and echt Amerikanisch. +So-o-o-o, I say to her, I would go myself with you, only +so awful stylish I ain't, and anyway I got no time. But +a lady I know who is got such stylish clothes!" Frau +Knapf raised admiring hands and eyes toward heaven. +"Such a nice lady she is, and stylish, like anything! +And her name is Frau Orme." + +"Oh, really, Frau Knapf--" I murmured in blushing +confusion. + +"Sure, it is so," insisted Frau Knapf, coming a step +nearer, and sinking her, voice one hiss lower. "You +shouldn't say I said it, but Frau Nirlanger likes she +should look young for her husband. He is much younger as +she is--aber much. Anyhow ten years. Frau Nirlanger +does not tell me this, but from other people I have found +out." Frau Knapf shook her head mysteriously a great +many times. "But maybe you ain't got such an interest in +Frau Nirlanger, yes?" + +"Interest! I'm eaten up with curiosity. You shan't +leave this room alive until you've told me!" + +Frau Knapf shook with silent mirth. "Now you make +jokings, ain't? Well, I tell you. In Vienna, Frau +Nirlanger was a widow, from a family aber hoch edel--very +high born. From the court her family is, and friends +from the Emperor, und alles. Sure! Frau Nirlanger, she +is different from the rest. Books she likes, und +meetings, und all such komisch things. And what you +think!" + +"I don't know," I gasped, hanging on her words, "what +DO I think?" + +"She meets this here Konrad Nirlanger, and +falls with him in love. Und her family is mad! But +schrecklich mad! Forty years old she is, and from a +noble family, and Konrad Nirlanger is only a student from +a university, and he comes from the Volk. Sehr gebildet +he is, but not high born. So-o-o-o-o, she runs with him +away and is married." + +Shamelessly I drank it all in. "You don't mean it! +Well, then what happened? She ran away with him--with +that chin! and then what?" + +Frau Knapf was enjoying it as much as I. She drew a +long breath, felt of the knob of hair, and plunged once +more into the story. + +"Like a story-book it is, nicht? Well, Frau +Nirlanger, she has already a boy who is ten years old, +and a fine sum of money that her first husband left her. +Aber when she runs with this poor kerl away from her +family, and her first husband's family is so schrecklich +mad that they try by law to take from her her boy and her +money, because she has her highborn family disgraced, you +see? For a year they fight in the courts, and then it +stands that her money Frau Nirlanger can keep, but her +boy she cannot have. He will be taken by her highborn +family and educated, and he must forget all about his +mamma. To cry it is, ain't it? Das arme Kind! Well, +she can stand it no longer to live where her boy is, +and not to see him. So-o-o-o, Konrad Nirlanger he gets +a chance to come by Amerika where there is a big +engineering plant here in Milwaukee, and she begs her +husband he should come, because this boy she loves very +much--Oh, she loves her young husband too, but different, +yes?" + +"Oh, yes," I agreed, remembering the gay little +trilling laugh, and the face that was so young when +animated, and so old and worn in repose. "Oh, yes. +Quite, quite different." + +Frau Knapf smoothed her spotless skirt and shook her +head slowly and sadly. "So-o-o-o, by Amerika they come. +And Konrad Nirlanger he is maybe a little cross and so, +because for a year they have been in the courts, and it +might have been the money they would lose, and for money +Konrad Nirlanger cares--well, you shall see. But Frau +Nirlanger must not mourn and cry. She must laugh and +sing, and be gay for her husband. But Frau Nirlanger has +no grand clothes, for first she runs away with Konrad +Nirlanger, and then her money is tied in the law. Now +she has again her money, and she must be young--but +young!" + +With a gesture that expressed a world of pathos and +futility Frau Knapf flung out her arms. "He must not +see that she looks different as the ladies in this +country. So Frau Nirlanger wants she should buy +here in the stores new dresses--echt Amerikanische. +All new and beautiful things she would have, because +she must look young, ain't it? And perhaps her boy +will remember her when he is a fine young man, if +she is yet young when he grows up, you see? And too, +there is the young husband. First, she gives up her old +life, and her friends and her family for this man, and +then she must do all things to keep him. Men, they are +but children, after all," spake the wise Frau Knapf in +conclusion. "They war and cry and plead for that which +they would have, and when they have won, then see! They +are amused for a moment, and the new toy is thrown +aside." + +"Poor, plain, vivacious, fascinating little Frau +Nirlanger!" I said. "I wonder just how much of pain and +heartache that little musical laugh of hers conceals?" + +"Ja, that is so," mused Frau Knapf. Her eyes look +like eyes that have wept much, not? And so you will be +so kind and go maybe to select the so beautiful clothes?" + +"Clothes?" I repeated, remembering the original +errand. "But dear lady! How, does one select clothes +for a woman of forty who would not weary her husband? +That is a task for a French modiste, a wizard, and a +fairy godmother all rolled into one." + +"But you will do it, yes?" urged Frau Knapf. + +"I'll do it," I agreed, a bit ruefully, "if only to +see the face of the oogly husband when his bride is +properly corseted and shod." + +Whereupon Frau Knapf, in a panic, remembered the +unset Kuchen dough and rushed away, with her hand on her +lips and her eyes big with secrecy. And I sat staring at +the last typewritten page stuck in my typewriter and I +found that the little letters on the white page were +swimming in a dim purple haze. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +A TRAGEDY OF GOWNS + +From husbands in general, and from oogly German husbands +in particular may Hymen defend me! Never again will I +attempt to select "echt Amerikanische" clothes for a +woman who must not weary her young husband. But how was +I to know that the harmless little shopping expedition +would resolve itself into a domestic tragedy, with Herr +Nirlanger as the villain, Frau Nirlanger as the +persecuted heroine, and I as--what is it in tragedy that +corresponds to the innocent bystander in real life? That +would be my role. + +The purchasing of the clothes was a real joy. Next +to buying pretty things for myself there is nothing I +like better than choosing them for some one else. And +when that some one else happens to be a fascinating +little foreigner who coos over the silken stuffs in a +delightful mixture of German and English; and especially +when that some one else must be made to look so charming +that she will astonish her oogly husband, then does the +selecting of those pretty things cease to be a task, and +become an art. + +It was to be a complete surprise to Herr Nirlanger. +He was to know nothing of it until everything was +finished and Frau Nirlanger, dressed in the prettiest of +the pretty Amerikanisch gowns, was ready to astound him +when he should come home from the office of the vast +plant where he solved engineering problems. + +"From my own money I buy all this," Frau Nirlanger +confided to me, with a gay little laugh of excitement, as +we started out. "From Vienna it comes. Always I have +given it at once to my husband, as a wife should. +Yesterday it came, but I said nothing, and when my +husband said to me, `Anna, did not the money come as +usual to-day? It is time,' I told a little lie--but a +little one, is it not? Very amusing it was. Almost I +did laugh. Na, he will not be cross when he see how his +wife like the Amerikanische ladies will look. He admires +very much the ladies of Amerika. Many times he has said +so. + +("I'll wager he has--the great, ugly boor!" I +thought, in parenthesis.) "We'll show him!" I said, +aloud. "He won't know you. Such a lot of beautiful +clothes as we can buy with all this money. Oh, dear Frau +Nirlanger, it's going to be slathers of fun! I feel as +excited about it as though it were a trousseau we were +buying." + +"So it is," she replied, a little shadow of sadness +falling across the brightness of her face. "I had no +proper clothes when we were married--but nothing! You +know perhaps my story. In America, everyone knows +everything. It is wonderful. When I ran away to marry +Konrad Nirlanger I had only the dress which I wore; even +that I borrowed from one of the upper servants, on a +pretext, so that no one should recognize me. Ach Gott! +I need not have worried. So! You see, it will be after +all a trousseau." + +Why, oh, why should a woman with her graceful +carriage and pretty vivacity have been cursed with such +an ill-assorted lot of features! Especially when certain +boorish young husbands have expressed an admiration for +pink-and-white effects in femininity. + +"Never mind, Mr. Husband, I'll show yez!" I resolved +as the elevator left us at the floor where waxen ladies +in shining glass cases smiled amiably all the day. + +There must be no violent pinks or blues. Brown was +too old. She was not young enough for black. Violet was +too trying. And so the gowns began to strew tables and +chairs and racks, and still I shook my head, and Frau +Nirlanger looked despairing, and the be-puffed and real +Irish-crocheted saleswoman began to develop a baleful +gleam about the eyes. + +And then we found it! It was a case of love at first +sight. The unimaginative would have called it gray. The +thoughtless would have pronounced it pink. It was +neither, and both; a soft, rosily-gray mixture of the +two, like the sky that one sometimes sees at winter +twilight, the pink of the sunset veiled by the gray of +the snow clouds. It was of a supple, shining cloth, +simple in cut, graceful in lines. + +"There! We've found it. Let's pray that it will not +require too much altering." + +But when it had been slipped over her head we groaned +at the inadequacy of her old-fashioned stays. There +followed a flying visit to the department where hips were +whisked out of sight in a jiffy, and where lines +miraculously took the place of curves. Then came the +gown once more, over the new stays this time. The effect +was magical. The Irish-crocheted saleswoman and I +clasped hands and fell back in attitudes of admiration. +Frau Nirlanger turned this way and that before the long +mirror and chattered like a pleased child. Her +adjectives grew into words of six syllables. She cooed +over the soft-shining stuff in little broken exclamations +in French and German. + +Then came a straight and simple street suit of blue +cloth, a lingerie gown of white, hats, shoes and even a +couple of limp satin petticoats. The day was gone before +we could finish. + +I bullied them into promising the pinky-gray gown for +the next afternoon. + +"Sooch funs!" giggled Frau Nirlanger, "and how it +makes one tired. So kind you were, to take this trouble +for me. Me, I could never have warred with that Fraulein +who served us--so haughty she was, nicht? But it is good +again pretty clothes to have. Pretty gowns I lofe--you +also, not?" + +"Indeed I do lofe 'em. But my money comes to me in +a yellow pay envelope, and it is spent before it reaches +me, as a rule. It doesn't leave much of a margin for +general recklessness." + +A tiny sigh came from Frau Nirlanger. "There will be +little to give to Konrad this time. So much money they +cost, those clothes! But Konrad, he will not care when +he sees the so beautiful dresses, is it not so?" + +"Care!" I cried with a great deal of bravado, +although a tiny inner voice spake in doubt. "Certainly +not. How could he?" + +Next day the boxes came, and we smuggled them into my +room. The unwrapping of the tissue paper folds was a +ceremony. We reveled in the very crackle of it. I had +scuttled home from the office as early as decency would +permit, in order to have plenty of time for the +dressing. It must be quite finished before Herr +Nirlanger should arrive. Frau Nirlanger had purchased +three tickets for the German theater, also as a surprise, +and I was to accompany the happily surprised husband and +the proud little wife of the new Amerikanische clothes. + +I coaxed her to let me do things to her hair. +Usually she wore a stiff and ugly coiffure that could +only be described as a chignon. I do not recollect +ever having seen a chignon, but I know that it must +look like that. I was thankful for my Irish deftness of +fingers as I stepped back to view the result of my +labors. The new arrangement of the hair gave her +features a new softness and dignity. + +We came to the lacing of the stays, with their +exaggerated length. "Aber!" exclaimed Frau Nirlanger, +not daring to laugh because of the strange snugness. "Ach!" +and again, Aber to laugh it is! " + +We had decided the prettiest of the new gowns must do +honor to the occasion. "This shade is called ashes of +roses," I explained, as I slipped it over her head. + +"Ashes of roses!" she echoed. "How pretty, yes? +But a little sad too, is it not so? Like rosy hopes that +have been withered. Ach, what a foolish talk! So, now +you will fasten it please. A real trick it is to button +such a dress--so sly they are, those fastenings." + +When all the sly fastenings were secure I stood at +gaze. + +"Nose is shiny," I announced, searching in a drawer +for chamois and powder. + +Frau Nirlanger raised an objecting hand. "But Konrad +does not approve of such things. He has said so. He +has--" + +"You tell your Konrad that a chamois skin isn't half +as objectionable as a shiny one. Come here and let me +dust this over your nose and chin, while I breathe a +prayer of thanks that I have no overzealous husband near +to forbid me the use of a bit of powder. There! If I +sez it mesilf as shouldn't, yez ar-r-re a credit t' me, +me darlint." + +"You are satisfied. There is not one small thing +awry? Ach, how we shall laugh at Konrad's face." + +"Satisfied! I'd kiss you if I weren't afraid that I +should muss you up. You're not the same woman. You look +like a girl! And so pretty! Now skedaddle into your own +rooms, but don't you dare to sit down for a moment. I'm +going down to get Frau Knapf before your husband +arrives." + +"But is there then time?" inquired Frau Nirlanger. +"He should be here now." + +"I'll bring her up in a jiffy, just for one peep. +She won't know you! Her face will be a treat! Don't +touch your hair--it's quite perfect. And f'r Jawn's +sake! Don't twist around to look at yourself in the back +or something will burst, I know it will. I'll be back in +a minute. Now run!" + +The slender, graceful figure disappeared with a gay +little laugh, and I flew downstairs for Frau Knapf. She +was discovered with a spoon in one hand and a spluttering +saucepan in the other. I detached her from them, clasped +her big, capable red hands and dragged her up the stairs, +explaining as I went. + +"Now don't fuss about that supper! Let 'em wait. +You must see her before Herr Nirlanger comes home. He's +due any minute. She looks like a girl. So young! And +actually pretty! And her figure--divine! Funny what a +difference a decent pair of corsets, and a gown, and some +puffs will make, h'm?" + +Frau Knapf was panting as I pulled her after me in +swift eagerness. Between puffs she brought out +exclamations of surprise and unbelief such as: +"Unmoglich! (Puff! Puff!) Aber--wunderbar! (Puff! +Puff!) + +We stopped before Frau Nirlanger's door. I struck a +dramatic pose. "Prepare!" I cried grandly, and threw +open the door with a bang. + +Crouched against the wall at a far corner of the room +was Frau Nirlanger. Her hands were clasped over her +breast and her eyes were dilated as though she had been +running. In the center of the room stood Konrad +Nirlanger, and on his oogly face was the very oogliest +look that I have ever seen on a man. He glanced at us as +we stood transfixed in the doorway, and laughed a short, +sneering laugh that was like a stinging blow on the +cheek. + +"So!" he said; and I would not have believed that men +really said "So!" in that way outside of a melodrama. +"So! You are in the little surprise, yes? You carry +your meddling outside of your newspaper work, eh? I +leave behind me an old wife in the morning and in the +evening, presto! I find a young bride. Wonderful!-- +but wonderful!" He laughed an unmusical and mirthless +laugh. + +"But--don't you like it?" I asked, like a simpleton. + +Frau Nirlanger seemed to shrink before our very eyes, +so that the pretty gown hung in limp folds about her. + +I stared, fascinated, at Konrad Nirlanger's cruel +face with its little eyes that were too close together +and its chin that curved in below the mouth and out again +so grotesquely. + +"Like it?" sneered Konrad Nirlanger. "For a young +girl, yes. But how useless, this belated trousseau. +What a waste of good money! For see, a young wife I do +not want. Young women one can have in plenty, always. +But I have an old woman married, and for an old woman the +gowns need be few--eh, Frau Orme? And you too, Frau +Knapf?" + +Frau Knapf, crimson and staring, was dumb. There +came a little shivering moan from the figure crouched in +the corner, and Frau Nirlanger, her face queerly withered +and ashen, crumpled slowly in a little heap on the floor +and buried her shamed head in her arms. + +Konrad Nirlanger turned to his wife, the black look +on his face growing blacker. + +"Come, get up Anna," he ordered, in German. "These +heroics become not a woman of your years. And too, you +must not ruin the so costly gown that will be returned +to-morrow." + +Frau Nirlanger's white face was lifted from the +shelter of her arms. The stricken look was still upon +it, but there was no cowering in her attitude now. +Slowly she rose to her feet. I had not realized that she +was so tall. + +"The gown does not go back," she said. + +"So?" he snarled, with a savage note in his voice. +"Now hear me. There shall be no more buying of gowns and +fripperies. You hear? It is for the wife to come to the +husband for the money; not for her to waste it wantonly +on gowns, like a creature of the streets. You," his +voice was an insult, "you, with your wrinkles and your +faded eyes in a gown of--" he turned inquiringly toward +me--"How does one call it, that color, Frau Orme?" + +There came a blur of tears to my eyes. "It is called +ashes of roses," I answered. "Ashes of roses." + +Konrad Nirlanger threw back his head and laughed a +laugh as stinging as a whip-lash. "Ashes of roses! So? It +is well named. For my dear wife it is poetically fit, is it +not so? For see, her roses are but withered ashes, eh Anna?" + +Deliberately and in silence Anna Nirlanger walked to +the mirror and stood there, gazing at the woman in the +glass. There was something dreadful and portentous about +the calm and studied deliberation with which she +critically viewed that reflection. She lifted her arms +slowly and patted into place the locks that had become +disarranged, turning her head from side to side to study +the effect. Then she took from a drawer the bit of +chamois skin that I had given her, and passed it lightly +over her eyelids and cheeks, humming softly to herself +the while. No music ever sounded so uncanny to my ears. +The woman before the mirror looked at the woman in the +mirror with a long, steady, measuring look. Then, slowly +and deliberately, the long graceful folds of her lovely +gown trailing behind her, she walked over to where her +frowning husband stood. So might a queen have walked, +head held high, gaze steady. She stopped within half a +foot of him, her eyes level with his. For a long +half-minute they stood thus, the faded blue eyes of the +wife gazing into the sullen black eyes of the husband, +and his were the first to drop, for all the noble +blood in Anna Nirlanger's veins, and all her long line of +gently bred ancestors were coming to her aid in dealing +with her middle-class husband. + +"You forget," she said, very slowly and distinctly. +"If this were Austria, instead of Amerika, you would not +forget. In Austria people of your class do not speak in +this manner to those of my caste." + +"Unsinn!" laughed Konrad Nirlanger. This is +Amerika." + +"Yes," said Anna Nirlanger, "this is Amerika. And in +Amerika all things are different. I see now that my +people knew of what they spoke when they called me mad to +think of wedding a clod of the people, such as you." + +For a moment I thought that he was going to strike +her. I think he would have, if she had flinched. But +she did not. Her head was held high, and her eyes did +not waver. + +"I married you for love. It is most comical, is it +not? With you I thought I should find peace, and +happiness and a re-birth of the intellect that was being +smothered in the splendor and artificiality and the +restrictions of my life there. Well, I was wrong. But +wrong. Now hear me!" Her voice was +tense with passion. "There will be gowns--as many and as +rich as I choose. You have said many times that the +ladies of Amerika you admire. And see! I shall be also +one of those so-admired ladies. My money shall go for +gowns! For hats! For trifles of lace and velvet and +fur! You shall learn that it is not a peasant woman whom +you have married. This is Amerika, the land of the free, +my husband. And see! Who is more of Amerika than I? +Who?" + +She laughed a high little laugh and came over to me, +taking my hands in her own. + +"Dear girl, you must run quickly and dress. For this +evening we go to the theater. Oh, but you must. There +shall be no unpleasantness, that I promise. My husband +accompanies us--with joy. Is it not so, Konrad? With +joy? So!" + +Wildly I longed to decline, but I dared not. So I +only nodded, for fear of the great lump in my throat, and +taking Frau Knapf's hand I turned and fled with her. +Frau Knapf was muttering: + +"Du Hund! Du unverschamter Hund du!" in good +Billingsgate German, and wiping her eyes with her apron. +And I dressed with trembling fingers because I dared not +otherwise face the brave little Austrian, the plucky little +aborigine who, with the donning of the new Amerikanische +gown had acquired some real Amerikanisch nerve. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +VON GERHARD SPEAKS + +Of Von Gerhard I had not had a glimpse since that evening +of my hysterical outburst. On Christmas day there had +come a box of roses so huge that I could not find vases +enough to hold its contents, although I pressed into +service everything from Mason jars from the kitchen to +hand-painted atrocities from the parlor. After I had +given posies to Frau Nirlanger, and fastened a rose in +Frau Knapf's hard knob of hair, where it bobbed in +ludicrous discomfort, I still had enough to fill the +washbowl. My room looked like a grand opera star's +boudoir when she is expecting the newspaper reporters. +I reveled in the glowing fragrance of the blossoms and +felt very eastern and luxurious and popular. It had been +a busy, happy, work-filled week, in which I had had to +snatch odd moments for the selecting of certain wonderful +toys for the Spalpeens. There had been dolls and +doll-clothes and a marvelous miniature kitchen for the +practical and stolid Sheila, and ingenious bits of +mechanism that did unbelievable things when wound up, +for the clever, imaginative Hans. I was not to have the +joy of seeing their wide-eyed delight, but I knew that +there would follow certain laboriously scrawled letters, +filled with topsy-turvy capitals and crazily leaning words +of thanks to the doting old auntie who had been such good +fun the summer before. + +Boarding-house Christmases had become an old story. +I had learned to accept them, even to those obscure and +foreign parts of turkey which are seen only on +boarding-house plates, and which would be recognized +nowhere else as belonging to that stately bird. + +Christmas at Knapf's had been a happy surprise; a day +of hearty good cheer and kindness. There had even been +a Christmas tree, hung with stodgy German angels and +Pfeffernuesse and pink-frosted cakes. I found myself the +bewildered recipient of gifts from everyone--from the +Knapfs, and the aborigines and even from one of the +crushed-looking wives. The aborigine whom they called +Fritz had presented me with a huge and imposing +Lebkuchen, reposing in a box with frilled border, +ornamented with quaint little red-and-green German +figures in sugar, and labeled Nurnberg in +stout letters, for it had come all the way from that +kuchen-famous city. The Lebkuchen I placed on my mantel +shelf as befitted so magnificent a work of art. It was +quite too elaborate and imposing to be sent the way of +ordinary food, although it had a certain tantalizingly +spicy scent that tempted one to break off a corner here +and there. + +On the afternoon of Christmas day I sat down to thank +Dr. von Gerhard for the flowers as prettily as might be. +Also I asked his pardon, a thing not hard to do with the +perfume of his roses filling the room. + +"For you," I wrote, "who are so wise in the ways of +those tricky things called nerves, must know that it was +only a mild hysteria that made me say those most +unladylike things. I have written Norah all about it. +She has replied, advising me to stick to the good-fellow +role but not to dress the part. So when next you see me +I shall be a perfectly safe and sane comrade in +petticoats. And I promise you--no more outbursts." + +So it happened that on the afternoon of New Year's +day Von Gerhard and I gravely wished one another many +happy and impossible things for the coming year, looking +fairly and squarely into each other's eyes as we did so. + +"So," said Von Gerhard, as one who is satisfied. "The +nerfs are steady to-day. What do you say to a brisk walk +along the lake shore to put us in a New Year frame of +mind, and then a supper down-town somewhere, with a toast +to Max and Norah?" + +"You've saved my life! Sit down here in the parlor +and gaze at the crepe-paper oranges while I powder my +nose and get into some street clothes. I have such a +story to tell you! It has made me quite contented with +my lot." + +The story was that of the Nirlangers; and as we +struggled against a brisk lake breeze I told it, and +partly because of the breeze, and partly because of the +story, there were tears in my eyes when I had finished. +Von Gerhard stared at me, aghast. + +"But you are--crying!" he marveled, watching a tear +slide down my nose. + +"I'm not," I retorted. "Anyway I know it. I think +I may blubber if I choose to, mayn't I, as well as other +women?" + +"Blubber?" repeated Von Gerhard, he of the careful +and cautious English. "But most certainly, if you wish. +I had thought that newspaper women did not indulge in the +luxury of tears." + +"They don't--often. Haven't the time. If a woman +reporter were to burst into tears every time +she saw something to weep over she'd be going about with +a red nose and puffy eyelids half the time. Scarcely a +day passes that does not bring her face to face with +human suffering in some form. Not only must she see +these things, but she must write of them so that those +who read can also see them. And just because she does +not wail and tear her hair and faint she popularly is +supposed to be a flinty, cigarette-smoking creature who +rampages up and down the land, seeking whom she may rend +with her pen and gazing, dry-eyed, upon scenes of horrid +bloodshed." + +"And yet the little domestic tragedy of the +Nirlangers can bring tears to your eyes?" + +"Oh, that was quite different. The case of the +Nirlangers had nothing to do with Dawn O'Hara, newspaper +reporter. It was just plain Dawn O'Hara, woman, who +witnessed that little tragedy. Mein Himmel! Are all +German husbands like that?" + +"Not all. I have a very good friend named Max--" + +"O, Max! Max is an angel husband. Fancy Max and +Norah waxing tragic on the subject of a gown! Now you--" + +"I? Come, you are sworn to good-fellowship. As +one comrade to another, tell me, what sort of husband +do you think I should make, eh? The boorish +Nirlanger sort, or the charming Max variety. Come, tell +me--you who always have seemed so--so damnably able to +take care of yourself." His eyes were twinkling in the +maddening way they had. + +I looked out across the lake to where a line of +white-caps was piling up formidably only to break in +futile wrath against the solid wall of the shore. And +there came over me an equally futile wrath; that savage, +unreasoning instinct in women which prompts them to hurt +those whom they love. + +"Oh, you!" I began, with Von Gerhard's amused eyes +laughing down upon me. "I should say that you would be +more in the Nirlanger style, in your large, immovable, +Germansure way. Not that you would stoop to wrangle +about money or gowns, but that you would control those +things. Your wife will be a placid, blond, rather plump +German Fraulein, of excellent family and no imagination. +Men of your type always select negative wives. Twenty +years ago she would have run to bring you your Zeitung +and your slippers. She would be that kind, if +Zeitung-and-slipper husbands still were in existence. +You will be fond of her, in a patronizing sort of way, +and she will never know the difference between that and +being loved, not having a great deal of imagination, as +I have said before. And you will go on becoming more +and more famous, and she will grow plumper and more +placid, and less and less understanding of what those +komisch medical journals have to say so often about her +husband who is always discovering things. And you will +live happily ever after--" + +A hand gripped my shoulder. I looked up, startled, +into two blue eyes blazing down into mine. Von Gerhard's +face was a painful red. I think that the hand on my +shoulder even shook me a little, there on that bleak and +deserted lake drive. I tried to wrench my shoulder free +with a jerk. + +"You are hurting me!" I cried. + +A quiver of pain passed over the face that I had +thought so calmly unemotional. "You talk of hurts! You, +who set out deliberately and maliciously to make me +suffer! How dare you then talk to me like this! You +stab with a hundred knives--you, who know how I--" + +"I'm sorry," I put in, contritely. "Please don't be +so dreadful about it. After all, you asked me, didn't +you? Perhaps I've hurt your vanity. There, I didn't +mean that, either. Oh, dear, let's talk about something +impersonal. We get along wretchedly of late." + +The angry red ebbed away from Von Gerhard's face. +The blaze of wrath in his eyes gave way to a deeper, +brighter light that held me fascinated, and there came to +his lips a smile of rare sweetness. The hand that had +grasped my shoulder slipped down, down, until it met my +hand and gripped it. + +"Na, 's ist schon recht, Kindchen. Those that we +most care for we would hurt always. When I have told you +of my love for you, although already you know it, then +you will tell me. Hush! Do not deny this thing. There +shall be no more lies between us. There shall be only +the truth, and no more about plump, blonde German wives +who run with Zeitung and slippers. After all, it is no +secret. Three months ago I told Norah. It was not news +to her. But she trusted me." + +I felt my face to be as white and as tense as his +own. "Norah--knows!" + +"It is better to speak these things. Then there need +be no shifting of the eyes, no evasive words, no tricks, +no subterfuge." + +We had faced about and were retracing our steps, past +the rows of peculiarly home-like houses that line +Milwaukee's magnificent lake shore. Windows were hung +with holiday scarlet and holly, and here and there a +face was visible at a window, looking out at the man +and woman walking swiftly along the wind-swept heights +that rose far above the lake. + +A wretched revolt seized me as I gazed at the +substantial comfort of those normal, happy homes. + +"Why did you tell me! What good can that do? At +least we were make-believe friends before. Suppose I +were to tell you that I care, then what." + +"I do not ask you to tell me," Von Gerhard replied, +quietly. + +"You need not. You know. You knew long, long ago. +You know I love the big quietness of you, and your +sureness, and the German way you have of twisting your +sentences about, and the steady grip of your great firm +hands, and the rareness of your laugh, and the simplicity +of you. Why I love the very cleanliness of your ruddy +skin, and the way your hair grows away from your +forehead, and your walk, and your voice and--Oh, what is +the use of it all?" + +"Just this, Dawn. The light of day sweetens all +things. We have dragged this thing out into the +sunlight, where, if it grows, it will grow +sanely and healthily. It was but an ugly, distorted, +unsightly thing, sending out pale unhealthy shoots in the +dark, unwholesome cellars of our inner consciences. +Norah's knowing was the cleanest, sweetest thing about +it." + +"How wonderfully you understand her, and how right +you are! Her knowing seems to make it as it should be, +doesn't it? I am braver already, for the knowledge of +it. It shall make no difference between us?" + +"There is no difference, Dawn," said he. + +"No. It is only in the story-books that they sigh, +and groan and utter silly nonsense. We are not like +that. Perhaps, after a bit, you will meet some one you +care for greatly--not plump, or blond, or German, +perhaps, but still--" + +"Doch you are flippant?" + +"I must say those things to keep the tears back. You +would not have me wailing here in the street. Tell me +just one thing, and there shall be no more fluttering +breaths and languishing looks. Tell me, when did you +begin to care?" + +We had reached Knapfs' door-step. The short winter +day was already drawing to its close. In the half-light +Von Gerhard's eyes glowed luminous. + +"Since the day I first met you at Norah's," he said, +simply. + +I stared at him, aghast, my ever-present sense of +humor struggling to the surface. "Not--not on that day +when you came into the room where I sat in the chair by +the window, with a flowered quilt humped about my +shoulders! And a fever-sore twisting my mouth! And my +complexion the color of cheese, and my hair plastered +back from my forehead, and my eyes like boiled onions!" + +"Thank God for your gift of laughter," Von Gerhard +said, and took my hand in his for one brief moment before +he turned and walked away. + +Quite prosaically I opened the big front door at +Knapfs' to find Herr Knapf standing in the hallway with +his: + +"Nabben', Frau Orme." + +And there was the sane and soothing scent of +Wienerschnitzel and spluttering things in the air. And +I ran upstairs to my room and turned on all the lights +and looked at the starry-eyed creature in the mirror. +Then I took the biggest, newest photograph of Norah from +the mantel and looked at her for a long, long minute, +while she looked back at me in her brave true way. + +"Thank you, dear," I said to her. "Thank you. Would +you think me stagey and silly if I were to kiss you, just +once, on your beautiful trusting eyes?" + +A telephone bell tinkled downstairs and Herr Knapf +stationed himself at the foot of the stairs and roared my +name. + +When I had picked up the receiver: "This is Ernst," +said the voice at the other end of the wire. "I have +just remembered that I had asked you down-town for +supper." + +"I would rather thank God fasting," I replied, very +softly, and hung the receiver on its hook. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +BENNIE THE CONSOLER + +In a corner of Frau Nirlanger's bedroom, sheltered from +draughts and glaring light, is a little wooden bed, +painted blue and ornamented with stout red roses that are +faded by time and much abuse. Every evening at eight +o'clock three anxious-browed women hold low-spoken +conclave about the quaint old bed, while its occupant +sleeps and smiles as he sleeps, and clasps to his breast +a chewed-looking woolly dog. For a new joy has come to +the sad little Frau Nirlanger, and I, quite by accident, +was the cause of bringing it to her. The queer little +blue bed, with its faded roses, was brought down from the +attic by Frau Knapf, for she is one of the three foster +mothers of the small occupant of the bed. The occupant +of the bed is named Bennie, and a corporation formed for +the purpose of bringing him up in the way he should go is +composed of: Dawn O'Hara Orme, President and Distracted +Guardian; Mrs. Konrad Nirlanger, Cuddler-in-chief and +Authority on the Subject of Bennie's Bed-time; Mr. Blackie +Griffith, Good Angel, General Cut-up and Monitor off'n +Bennie's Neckties and Toys; Dr. Ernst von Gerhard, Chief +Medical Adviser, and Sweller of the Exchequer, with the +Privilege of Selecting All Candies. Members of the +corporation meet with great frequency evenings and Sundays, +much to the detriment of a certain Book-in-the-making with +which Dawn O'Hara Orme was wont to struggle o' evenings. + +Bennie had been one of those little tragedies that +find their way into juvenile court. Bennie's story was +common enough, but Bennie himself had been different. +Ten minutes after his first appearance in the court room +everyone, from the big, bald judge to the newest +probation officer, had fallen in love with him. Somehow, +you wanted to smooth the hair from his forehead, tip his +pale little face upward, and very gently kiss his smooth, +white brow. Which alone was enough to distinguish +Bennie, for Juvenile court children, as a rule, are +distinctly not kissable. + +Bennie's mother was accused of being unfit to care +for her boy, and Bennie was temporarily installed in the +Detention Home. There the superintendent and his plump +and kindly wife had fallen head over heels in love with +him, and had dressed him in a smart little Norfolk +suit and a frivolous plaid silk tie. There were +delays in the case, and postponement after postponement, +so that Bennie appeared in the court room every Tuesday +for four weeks. The reporters, and the probation +officers and policemen became very chummy with Bennie, +and showered him with bright new pennies and certain +wonderful candies. Superintendent Arnett of the +Detention Home was as proud of the boy as though he were +his own. And when Bennie would look shyly and +questioningly into his face for permission to accept the +proffered offerings, the big superintendent would chuckle +delightedly. Bennie had a strangely mobile face for such +a baby, and the whitest, smoothest brow I have ever seen. + +The comedy and tears and misery and laughter of the +big, white-walled court room were too much for Bennie. +He would gaze about with puzzled blue eyes; then, giving +up the situation as something too vast for his +comprehension, he would fall to drawing curly-cues on a +bit of paper with a great yellow pencil presented him by +one of the newspaper men. + +Every Tuesday the rows of benches were packed with a +motley crowd of Poles, Russians, Slavs, Italians, Greeks, +Lithuanians--a crowd made up of fathers, mothers, +sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, neighbors, friends, and +enemies of the boys and girls whose fate was in the hands +of the big man seated in the revolving chair up in front. +But Bennie's mother was not of this crowd; this pitiful, +ludicrous crowd filling the great room with the stifling, +rancid odor of the poor. Nor was Bennie. He sat, clear-eyed +and unsmiling, in the depths of a great chair on the +court side of the railing and gravely received the +attentions of the lawyers, and reporters and court room +attaches who had grown fond of the grave little figure. + +Then, on the fifth Tuesday, Bennie's mother appeared. +How she had come to be that child's mother God only +knows--or perhaps He had had nothing to do with it. She +was terribly sober and frightened. Her face was swollen +and bruised, and beneath one eye there was a puffy +green-and-blue swelling. Her sordid story was common +enough as the probation officer told it. The woman had +been living in one wretched room with the boy. Her +husband had deserted her. There was no food, and little +furniture. The queer feature of it, said the probation +officer, was that the woman managed to keep the boy +fairly neat and clean, regardless of her own condition, +and he generally had food of some sort, although the +mother sometimes went without food for days. Through the +squalor and misery and degradation of her own life Bennie +had somehow been kept unsullied, a thing apart. + +"H'm! " said judge Wheeling, and looked at Bennie. +Bennie was standing beside his mother. He was very +quiet, and his eyes were smiling up into those of the +battered creature who was fighting for him. "I guess +we'll have to take you out of this," the judge decided, +abruptly. "That boy is too good to go to waste." + +The sodden, dazed woman before him did not +immediately get the full meaning of his words. She still +stood there, swaying a bit, and staring unintelligently +at the judge. Then, quite suddenly, she realized it. +She took a quick step forward. Her hand went up to her +breast, to her throat, to her lips, with an odd, stifled +gesture. + +"You ain't going to take him away! From me! No, you +wouldn't do that, would you? Not for--not for always! +You wouldn't do that--you wouldn't--" + +Judge Wheeling waved her away. But the woman dropped +to her knees. + +"Judge, give me a chance! I'll stop drinking. Only +don't take him away from me! Don't, judge, don't! He's all +I've got in the world. Give me a chance. Three months! +Six months! A year!" + +"Get up!" ordered judge Wheeling, gruffly, "and stop +that! It won't do you a bit of good." + +And then a wonderful thing happened. The woman rose +to her feet. A new and strange dignity had come into her +battered face. The lines of suffering and vice were +erased as by magic, and she seemed to grow taller, +younger, almost beautiful. When she spoke again it was +slowly and distinctly, her words quite free from the blur +of the barroom and street vernacular. + +"I tell you you must give me a chance. You cannot +take a child from a mother in this way. I tell you, if +you will only help me I can crawl back up the road that +I've traveled. I was not always like this. There was +another life, before--before--Oh, since then there have +been years of blackness, and hunger, and cold and--worse! +But I never dragged the boy into it. Look at him!" + +Our eyes traveled from the woman's transfigured face +to that of the boy. We could trace a wonderful likeness +where before we had seen none. But the woman went on in +her steady, even tone. + +"I can't talk as I should, because my brain isn't +clear. It's the drink. When you drink, you forget. But +you must help me. I can't do it alone. I can remember +how to live straight, just as I can remember how to talk +straight. Let me show you that I'm not all bad. Give me +a chance. Take the boy and then give him back to me when +you are satisfied. I'll try--God only knows how I'll +try. Only don't take him away forever, Judge! Don't do +that!" + +Judge Wheeling ran an uncomfortable finger around his +collar's edge. + +"Any friends living here?" + +"No! No!" + +"Sure about that?" + +"Quite sure." + +"Now see here; I'm going to give you your chance. I +shall take this boy away from you for a year. In that +time you will stop drinking and become a decent, +self-supporting woman. You will be given in charge of +one of these probation officers. She will find work for +you, and a good home, and she'll stand by you, and you +must report to her. If she is satisfied with you at the +end of the year, the boy goes back to you." + +"She will be satisfied," the woman said, simply. She +stooped and taking Bennie's face between her +hands kissed him once. Then she stepped aside and stood +quite still, looking after the little figure that passed +out of the court room with his hand in that of a big, +kindly police officer. She looked until the big door had +opened and closed upon them. + +Then--well, it was just another newspaper story. It +made a good one. That evening I told Frau Nirlanger +about it, and she wept, softly, and murmured: "Ach, das +arme baby! Like my little Oscar he is, without a +mother." I told Ernst about him too, and Blackie, +because I could not get his grave little face out of my +mind. I wondered if those who had charge of him now +would take the time to bathe the little body, and brush +the soft hair until it shone, and tie the gay plaid silk +tie as lovingly as "Daddy" Arnett of the Detention Home +had done. + +Then it was that I, quite unwittingly, stepped into +Bennie's life. + +There was an anniversary, or a change in the board of +directors, or a new coat of paint or something of the +kind in one of the orphan homes, and the story fell to +me. I found the orphan home to be typical of its kind--a +big, dreary, prison-like structure. The woman at +the door did not in the least care to let me in. She was +a fish-mouthed woman with a hard eye, and as I told my +errand her mouth grew fishier and the eye harder. +Finally she led me down a long, dark, airless stretch of +corridor and departed in search of the matron, leaving me +seated in the unfriendly reception room, with its +straight-backed chairs placed stonily against the walls, +beneath rows of red and blue and yellow religious +pictures. + +Just as I was wondering why it seemed impossible to +be holy and cheerful at the same time, there came a +pad-padding down the corridor. The next moment the +matron stood in the doorway. She was a mountainous, +red-faced woman, with warts on her nose. + +"Good-afternoon," I said, sweetly. ("Ugh! What a +brute!") I thought. Then I began to explain my errand +once more. Criticism of the Home? No indeed, I assured +her. At last, convinced of my disinterestedness she +reluctantly guided me about the big, gloomy building. +There were endless flights of shiny stairs, and endless +stuffy, airless rooms, until we came to a door which she +flung open, disclosing the nursery. It seemed to me that +there were a hundred babies--babies at every stage of +development, of all sizes, and ages and types. They glanced +up at the opening of the door, and then a dreadful thing +happened. + +Every child that was able to walk or creep scuttled +into the farthest corners and remained quite, quite still +with a wide-eyed expression of fear and apprehension on +every face. + +For a moment my heart stood still. I turned to look +at the woman by my side. Her thin lips were compressed +into a straight, hard line. She said a word to a nurse +standing near, and began to walk about, eying the +children sharply. She put out a hand to pat the head of +one red-haired mite in a soiled pinafore; but before her +hand could descend I saw the child dodge and the tiny +hand flew up to the head, as though in defense. + +"They are afraid of her!" my sick heart told me. +"Those babies are afraid of her! What does she do to +them? I can't stand this. I'm going." + +I mumbled a hurried "Thank you," to the fat matron as +I turned to leave the big, bare room. At the head of the +stairs there was a great, black door. I stopped before +it--God knows why!--and pointed toward it. + +"What is in that room?" I asked. Since then I have +wondered many times at the unseen power that prompted me +to put the question. + +The stout matron bustled on, rattling her keys as she +walked. + +"That--oh, that's where we keep the incorrigibles." + +"May I see them?" I asked, again prompted by that +inner voice. + +"There is only one." She grudgingly unlocked the +door, using one of the great keys that swung from her +waist. The heavy, black door swung open. I stepped into +the bare room, lighted dimly by one small window. In the +farthest corner crouched something that stirred and +glanced up at our entrance. It peered at us with an ugly +look of terror and defiance, and I stared back at it, in +the dim light. During one dreadful, breathless second I +remained staring, while my heart stood still. Then-- +"Bennie!" I cried. And stumbled toward him. "Bennie-- +boy!" + +The little unkempt figure, in its soiled +knickerbocker suit, the sunny hair all uncared for, the +gay plaid tie draggled and limp, rushed into my arms with +a crazy, inarticulate cry. + +Down on my knees on the bare floor I held him close-- +close! and his arms were about my neck as though they +never should unclasp. + +"Take me away! Take me away!" His wet cheek was +pressed against my own streaming one. "I want my mother! +I want Daddy Arnett! Take me away!" + +I wiped his cheeks with my notebook or something, +picked him up in my arms, and started for the door. I +had quite forgotten the fat matron. + +"What are you doing?" she asked, blocking the doorway +with her huge bulk. + +"I'm going to take him back with me. Please let me! +I'll take care of him until the year is up. He shan't +bother you any more." + +"That is impossible," she said, coldly. "He has been +sent here by the court, for a year, and he must stay +here. Besides, he is a stubborn, uncontrollable child." + +"Uncontrollable! He's nothing of the kind! Why +don't you treat him as a child should be treated, instead +of like a little animal? You don't know him! Why, he's +the most lovable--I And he's only a baby! Can't you +see that? A baby!" + +She only stared her dislike, her little pig eyes +grown smaller and more glittering. + +"You great--big--thing! " I shrieked at her, like an +infuriated child. With the tears streaming down my +cheeks I unclasped Bennie's cold hands from about my +neck. He clung to me, frantically, until I had to push +him away and run. + +The woman swung the door shut, and locked it. But +for all its thickness I could hear Bennie's helpless +fists pounding on its panels as I stumbled down the +stairs, and Bennie's voice came faintly to my ears, +muffled by the heavy door, as he shrieked to me to take +him away to his mother, and to Daddy Arnett. + +I blubbered all the way back in the car, until +everyone stared, but I didn't care. When I reached the +office I made straight for Blackie's smoke-filled +sanctum. When my tale was ended he let me cry all over +his desk, with my head buried in a heap of galley-proofs +and my tears watering his paste-pot. He sat calmly by, +smoking. Finally he began gently to philosophize. "Now +girl, he's prob'ly better off there than he ever was at +home with his mother soused all the time. Maybe he give +that warty matron friend of yours all kinds of trouble, +yellin' for his ma." + +I raised my head from the desk. "Oh, you can talk! +You didn't see him. What do you care! But if you could +have seen him, crouched there--alone--like a little +animal! He was so sweet--and lovable--and--and--he +hadn't been decently washed for weeks--and his arms clung +to me--I can feel his hands about my neck!--" + +I buried my head in the papers again. Blackie went +on smoking. There was no sound in the little room except +the purr-purring of Blackie's pipe. Then: + +"I done a favor for Wheeling once," mused he. + +I glanced up, quickly. "Oh, Blackie, do you think--" + +"No, I don't. But then again, you can't never tell. +That was four or five years ago, and the mem'ry of past +favors grows dim fast. Still, if you're through waterin' +the top of my desk, why I'd like t' set down and do a +little real brisk talkin' over the phone. You're +excused." + +Quite humbly I crept away, with hope in my heart. + +To this day I do not know what secret string the +resourceful Blackie pulled. But the next afternoon I +found a hastily scrawled note tucked into the roll of my +typewriter. It sent me scuttling across the hall to the +sporting editor's smoke-filled room. And there on a +chair beside the desk, surrounded by scrap-books, lead +pencils, paste-pot and odds and ends of newspaper office +paraphernalia, sat Bennie. His hair +was parted very smoothly on one side, and under his +dimpled chin bristled a very new and extremely lively +green-and-red plaid silk tie. + +The next instant I had swept aside papers, brushes, +pencils, books, and Bennie was gathered close in my arms. +Blackie, with a strange glow in his deep-set black eyes +regarded us with an assumed disgust. + +"Wimmin is all alike. Ain't it th' truth? I used t' +think you was different. But shucks! It ain't so. Got +t' turn on the weeps the minute you're tickled or mad. +Why say, I ain't goin' t' have you comin' in here an' +dampenin' up the whole place every little while! It's +unhealthy for me, sittin' here in the wet." + +"Oh, shut up, Blackie," I said, happily. "How in the +world did you do it?" + +"Never you mind. The question is, what you goin' t' +do with him, now you've got him? Goin' t' have a French +bunny for him, or fetch him up by hand? Wheeling +appointed a probation skirt to look after the crowd of +us, and we got t' toe the mark." + +"Glory be!" I ejaculated. "I don't know what I shall +do with him. I shall have to bring him down with me +every morning, and perhaps you can make a sporting editor +out of him." + +"Nix. Not with that forehead. He's a high-brow. +We'll make him dramatic critic. In the meantime, I'll be +little fairy godmother, an' if you'll get on your bonnet +I'll stake you and the young 'un to strawberry shortcake +an' chocolate ice cream." + +So it happened that a wondering Frau Knapf and a +sympathetic Frau Nirlanger were called in for +consultation an hour later. Bennie was ensconced in my +room, very wide-eyed and wondering, but quite content. +With the entrance of Frau Nirlanger the consultation was +somewhat disturbed. She made a quick rush at him and +gathered him in her hungry arms. + +"Du baby du!" she cried. "Du Kleiner! And she was +down on her knees, and somehow her figure had melted into +delicious mother-curves, with Bennie's head just fitting +into that most gracious one between her shoulder and +breast. She cooed to him in a babble of French and +German and English, calling him her lee-tel Oscar. +Bennie seemed miraculously to understand. Perhaps he was +becoming accustomed to having strange ladies snatch him +to their breasts. + +"So," said Frau Nirlanger, looking up at us. "Is he +not sweet? He shall be my lee-tel boy, nicht? For one +small year he shall be my own boy. Ach, I am but lonely +all the long day here in this strange land. You will let +me care for him, nicht? And Konrad, he will be very angry, +but that shall make no bit of difference. Eh, Oscar?" + +And so the thing was settled, and an hour later three +anxious-browed women were debating the weighty question +of eggs or bread-and-milk for Bennie's supper. Frau +Nirlanger was for soft-boiled eggs as being none too +heavy after orphan asylum fare; I was for bread-and-milk, +that being the prescribed supper dish for all the orphans +and waifs that I had ever read about, from "The Wide, +Wide World" to "Helen's Babies," and back again. Frau +Knapf was for both eggs and bread-and-milk with a dash of +meat and potatoes thrown in for good measure, and a slice +or so of Kuchen on the side. We compromised on one egg, +one glass of milk, and a slice of lavishly buttered +bread, and jelly. It was a clean, sweet, sleepy-eyed +Bennie that we tucked between the sheets. We three women +stood looking down at him as he lay there in the quaint +old blue-painted bed that had once held the plump little +Knapfs. + +"You think anyway he had enough supper? mused the +anxious-browed Frau Knapf. + +"To school he will have to go, yes?" murmured Frau +Nirlanger, regretfully. + +I tucked in the covers at one side of the bed, not +that they needed tucking, but because it was such a +comfortable, satisfying thing to do. + +"Just at this minute," I said, as I tucked, "I'd +rather be a newspaper reporter than anything else in the +world. As a profession 'tis so broadenin', an' at the +same time, so chancey." + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +THE TEST + + +Some day the marriageable age for women will be +advanced from twenty to thirty, and the old maid line +will be changed from thirty to forty. When that time +comes there will be surprisingly few divorces. The +husband of whom we dream at twenty is not at all the type +of man who attracts us at thirty. The man I married at +twenty was a brilliant, morbid, handsome, abnormal +creature with magnificent eyes and very white teeth and +no particular appetite at mealtime. The man whom I could +care for at thirty would be the normal, safe and +substantial sort who would come in at six o'clock, kiss +me once, sniff the air twice and say: "Mm! What's that +smells so good, old girl? I'm as hungry as a bear. Trot +it out. Where are the kids?" + +These are dangerous things to think upon. So +dangerous and disturbing to the peace of mind that I have +decided not to see Ernst von Gerhard for a week or two. +I find that seeing him is apt to make me forget Peter Orme; +to forget that my duty begins with a capital D; to forget +that I am dangerously near the thirty year old mark; to +forget Norah, and Max, and the Spalpeens, and the world, +and everything but the happiness of being near him, watching +his eyes say one thing while his lips say another. + +At such times I am apt to work myself up into rather +a savage frame of mind, and to shut myself in my room +evenings, paying no heed to Frau Nirlanger's timid +knocking, or Bennie's good-night message. I uncover my +typewriter and set to work at the thing which may or may +not be a book, and am extremely wretched and gloomy and +pessimistic, after this fashion: + +"He probably wouldn't care anything about you if you +were free. It is just a case of the fruit that is out of +reach being the most desirable. Men don't marry frumpy, +snuffy old things of thirty, or thereabouts. Men aren't +marrying now-a-days, anyway. Certainly not for love. +They marry for position, or power, or money, when they do +marry. Think of all the glorious creatures he meets +every day--women whose hair, and finger-nails and teeth +and skin are a religion; women whose clothes are a fine +art; women who are free to care only for themselves; +to rest, to enjoy, to hear delightful music, and +read charming books, and eat delicious food. He doesn't +really care about you, with your rumpled blouses, and +your shabby gloves and shoes, and your somewhat doubtful +linen collars. The last time you saw him you were just +coming home from the office after a dickens of a day, and +there was a smudge on the end of your nose, and he told +you of it, laughing. But you didn't laugh. You rubbed +it off, furiously, and you wanted to cry. Cry! You, +Dawn O'Hara! Begorra! 'Tis losin' your sense av humor +you're after doin'! Get to work." + +After which I would fall upon the book in a furious, +futile fashion, writing many incoherent, irrelevant +paragraphs which I knew would be cast aside as worthless +on the sane and reasoning to-morrow. + +Oh, it had been easy enough to talk of love in a +lofty, superior impersonal way that New Year's day. Just +the luxury of speaking of it at all, after those weeks of +repression, sufficed. But it is not so easy to be +impersonal and lofty when the touch of a coat sleeve +against your arm sends little prickling, tingling shivers +racing madly through thousands of too taut nerves. It is +not so easy to force the mind and tongue into safe, sane +channels when they are forever threatening to rush together +in an overwhelming torrent that will carry misery and +destruction in its wake. Invariably we talk with feverish +earnestness about the book; about my work at the office; +about Ernst's profession, with its wonderful growth; about +Norah, and Max and the Spalpeens, and the home; about the +latest news; about the weather; about Peter Orme--and then +silence. + +At our last meeting things took a new and startling +turn. So startling, so full of temptation and +happiness-that-must-not-be, that I resolved to forbid +myself the pain and joy of being, near him until I could +be quite sure that my grip on Dawn O'Hara was firm, +unshakable and lasting. + +Von Gerhard sports a motor-car, a rakish little +craft, built long and low, with racing lines, and a green +complexion, and a nose that cuts through the air like the +prow of a swift boat through water. Von Gerhard had +promised me a spin in it on the first mild day. Sunday +turned out to be unexpectedly lamblike, as only a March +day can be, with real sunshine that warmed the end of +one's nose instead of laughing as it tweaked it, as the +lying February sunshine had done. + +"But warmly you must dress yourself," Von Gerhard +warned me, "with no gauzy blouses or sleeveless gowns. +The air cuts like a knife, but it feels good against the +face. And a little road-house I know, where one is +served great steaming plates of hot oyster stew. How +will that be for a lark, yes?" + +And so I had swathed myself in wrappings until I +could scarcely clamber into the panting little car, and +we had darted off along the smooth lake drives, while the +wind whipped the scarlet into our cheeks, even while it +brought the tears to our eyes. There was no chance for +conversation, even if Von Gerhard had been in talkative +mood, which he was not. He seemed more taciturn than +usual, seated there at the wheel, looking straight ahead +at the ribbon of road, his eyes narrowed down to mere +keen blue slits. I realized, without alarm, that he was +driving furiously and lawlessly, and I did not care. Von +Gerhard was that sort of man. One could sit quite calmly +beside him while he pulled at the reins of a pair of +runaway horses, knowing that he would conquer them in the +end. + +Just when my face began to feel as stiff and glazed +as a mummy's, we swung off the roadway and up to the +entrance of the road-house that was to revive us with things +hot and soupy. + +"Another minute," I said, through stiff lips, as I +extricated myself from my swathings, "and I should have +been what Mr. Mantalini described as a demnition body. +For pity's sake, tell 'em the soup can't be too hot nor +too steaming for your lady friend. I've had enough fresh +air to last me the remainder of my life. May I timidly +venture to suggest that a cheese sandwich follow the +oyster stew? I am famished, and this place looks as +though it might make a speciality of cheese sandwiches." + +"By all means a cheese sandwich. Und was noch? That +fresh air it has given you an appetite, nicht wahr?" But +there was no sign of a smile on his face, nor was the +kindly twinkle of amusement to be seen in his eyes--that +twinkle that I had learned to look for. + +"Smile for the lady," I mockingly begged when we had +been served. "You've been owlish all the afternoon. +Here, try a cheese sandwich. Now, why do you suppose +that this mustard tastes so much better than the kind one +gets at home?" + +Von Gerhard had been smoking a cigarette, the first +that I had ever seen in his fingers. Now he tossed it +into the fireplace that yawned black and empty at one side +of the room. He swept aside the plates and glasses that +stood before him, leaned his arms on the table and +deliberately stared at me. + +"I sail for Europe in June, to be gone a year-- +probably more," he said. + +"Sail!" I echoed, idiotically; and began blindly to +dab clots of mustard on that ridiculous sandwich. + +"I go to study and work with Gluck. It is the +opportunity of a lifetime. Gluck is to the world of +medicine what Edison is to the world of electricity. He +is a wizard, a man inspired. You should see him--a +little, bent, grizzled, shabby old man who looks at you, +and sees you not. It is a wonderful opportunity, a--" + +The mustard and the sandwich and the table and Von +Gerhard's face were very indistinct and uncertain to my +eyes, but I managed to say: "So glad--congratulate you-- +very happy--no doubt fortunate--" + +Two strong hands grasped my wrists. "Drop that absurd +mustard spoon and sandwich. Na, I did not mean to +frighten you, Dawn. How your hands tremble. So, look at +me. You would like Vienna, Kindchen. You would like the +gayety, and the brightness of it, and the music, and the +pretty women, and the incomparable gowns. Your sense of +humor would discern the hollowness beneath all the pomp +and ceremony and rigid lines of caste, and military glory; +and your writer's instinct would revel in the splendor, and +color and romance and intrigue." + +I shrugged my shoulders in assumed indifference. +"Can't you convey all this to me without grasping my +wrists like a villain in a melodrama? Besides, it isn't +very generous or thoughtful of you to tell me all this, +knowing that it is not for me. Vienna for you, and +Milwaukee and cheese sandwiches for me. Please pass the +mustard." + +But the hold on my wrists grew firmer. Von Gerhard's +eyes were steady as they gazed into mine. "Dawn, Vienna, +and the whole world is waiting for you, if you will but +take it. Vienna--and happiness--with me--" + +I wrenched my wrists free with a dreadful effort and +rose, sick, bewildered, stunned. My world--my refuge of +truth, and honor, and safety and sanity that had lain in +Ernst von Gerhard's great, steady hands, was slipping +away from me. I think the horror that I felt within must +have leaped to my eyes, for in an instant Von Gerhard was +beside me, steadying me with his clear blue eyes. He did +not touch the tips of my fingers as he stood there very +near me. From the look of pain on his face I knew that I +had misunderstood, somehow. + +"Kleine, I see that you know me not," he said, in +German, and the saying it was as tender as is a mother +when she reproves a child that she loves. "This fight +against the world, those years of unhappiness and misery, +they have made you suspicious and lacking in trust, is it +not so? You do not yet know the perfect love that casts +out all doubt. Dawn, I ask you in the name of all that +is reasoning, and for the sake of your happiness and +mine, to divorce this man Peter Orme--this man who for +almost ten years has not been your husband--who never can +be your husband. I ask you to do something which will +bring suffering to no one, and which will mean happiness +to many. Let me make you happy--you were born to be +happy--you who can laugh like a girl in spite of your +woman's sorrows--" + +But I sank into a chair and hid my face in my hands +so that I might be spared the beauty and the tenderness +of his eyes. I tried to think of all the sane and +commonplace things in life. Somewhere in my inner +consciousness a cool little voice was saying, over and +over again: + +"Now, Dawn, careful! You've come to the crossroads at +last. Right or left? Choose! Now, Dawn, careful!" and +the rest of it all over again. + +When I lifted my face from my hands at last it was to +meet the tenderness of Von Gerhard's gaze with scarcely +a tremor. + +"You ought to know," I said, very slowly and evenly, +"that a divorce, under these circumstances, is almost +impossible, even if I wished to do what you suggest. +There are certain state laws--" + +An exclamation of impatience broke from him. "Laws! +In some states, yes. In others, no. It is a mere +technicality--a trifle! There is about it a bit of that +which you call red tape. It amounts to nothing--to +that!" He snapped his fingers. "A few months' residence +in another state, perhaps. These American laws, they are +made to break." + +"Yes; you are quite right," I said, and I knew in my +heart that the cool, insistent little voice within had +not spoken in vain. "But there are other laws--laws of +honor and decency, and right living and conscience--that +cannot be broken with such ease. I cannot marry you. I +have a husband." + +"You can call that unfortunate wretch your +husband! He does not know that he has a wife. He will +not know that he has lost a wife. Come, Dawn--small +one--be not so foolish. You do not know how happy I will +make you. You have never seen me except when I was +tortured with doubts and fears. You do not know what our +life will be together. There shall be everything to make +you forget--everything that thought and love and money +can give you. The man there in the barred room--" + +At that I took his dear hands in mine and held them +close as I miserably tried to make him hear what that +small, still voice had told me. + +"There! That is it! If he were free, if he were +able to stand before men that his actions might be judged +fairly and justly, I should not hesitate for one single, +precious moment. If he could fight for his rights, or +relinquish them, as he saw fit, then this thing would not +be so monstrous. But, Ernst, can't you see? He is +there, alone, in that dreadful place, quite helpless, +quite incapable, quite at our mercy. I should as soon +think of hurting a little child, or snatching the pennies +from a blind man's cup. The thing is inhuman! It is +monstrous! No state laws, no red tape can dissolve such +a union." + +"You still care for him!" + +"Ernst!" + +His face was very white with the pallor of repressed +emotion, and his eyes were like the blue flame that one +sees flashing above a bed of white-hot coals. + +"You do care for him still. But yes! You can stand +there, quite cool--but quite--and tell me that you would +not hurt him, not for your happiness, not for mine. But +me you can hurt again and again, without one twinge of +regret." + +There was silence for a moment in the little bare +dining-room--a miserable silence on my part, a bitter one +for Ernst. Then Von Gerhard seated himself again at the +table opposite and smiled one of the rare smiles that +illumined his face with such sweetness. + +"Come, Dawn, almost we are quarreling--we who were to +have been so matter-of-fact and sensible. Let us make an +end of this question. You will think of what I have +said, will you not? Perhaps I was too abrupt, too +brutal. Ach, Dawn, you know not how I--Very well, I will +not." + +With both hands I was clinging to my courage and +praying for strength to endure this until I should be +alone in my room again. + +"As for that poor creature who is bereft of reason, +he shall lack no care, no attention. The burden you have +borne so long I shall take now upon my shoulders." + +He seemed so confident, so sure. I could bear it no +longer. "Ernst, if you have any pity, any love for me, +stop! I tell you I can never do this. Why do you make +it so terribly hard for me! So pitilessly hard! You +always have been so strong, so sure, such a staff of +courage." + +"I say again, and again, and again, you do not care." + +It was then that I took my last vestige of strength +and courage together and going over to him, put my two +hands on his great shoulders, looking up into his drawn +face as I spoke. + +"Ernst, look at me! You never can know how much I +care. I care so much that I could not bear to have the +shadow of wrong fall upon our happiness. There can be no +lasting happiness upon a foundation of shameful deceit. +I should hate myself, and you would grow to hate me. It +always is so. Dear one, I care so much that I have the +strength to do as I would do if I had to face my mother, +and Norah tonight. I don't ask you to understand. Men +are not made to understand these things; not +even a man such as you, who are so beautifully +understanding. I only ask that you believe in me--and +think of me sometimes--I shall feel it, and be helped. +Will you take me home now, Dr. von Gerhard?" + +The ride home was made in silence. The wind was +colder, sharper. I was chilled, miserable, sick. Von +Gerhard's face was quite expressionless as he guided the +little car over the smooth road. When we had stopped +before my door, still without a word, I thought that he +was going to leave me with that barrier of silence +unbroken. But as I stepped stiffly to the curbing his +hands closed about mine with the old steady grip. I +looked up quickly, to find a smile in the corners of the +tired eyes. + +"You--you will let me see you--sometimes?" + +But wisdom came to my aid. "Not now. It is better +that we go our separate ways for a few weeks, until our +work has served to adjust the balance that has been +disturbed. At the end of that time I shall write you, +and from that time until you sail in June we shall be +just good comrades again. And once in Vienna--who +knows?--you may meet the plump blond Fraulein, of +excellent family--" + +"And no particular imagination--" + +And then we both laughed, a bit hysterically, because +laughter is, after all, akin to tears. And the little +green car shot off with a whir as I turned to enter my +new world of loneliness. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +BENNIE AND THE CHARMING OLD MAID + +There followed a blessed week of work--a "human warious" +week, with something piquant lurking at every turn. A +week so busy, so kaleidoscopic in its quick succession of +events that my own troubles and grievances were pushed +into a neglected corner of my mind and made to languish +there, unfed by tears or sighs. + +News comes in cycles. There are weeks when a city +editor tears his hair in vain as he bellows for a +first-page story. There follow days so bristling with +real, live copy that perfectly good stuff which, in the +ordinary course of events might be used to grace the +front sheet, is sandwiched away between the marine +intelligence and the Elgin butter reports. + +Such a week was this. I interviewed everything from +a red-handed murderer to an incubator baby. The town +seemed to be running over with celebrities. Norberg, the +city editor, adores celebrities. He never allows one to +escape uninterviewed. On Friday there fell to my lot a +world-famous prima donna, an infamous prize-fighter, and +a charming old maid. Norberg cared not whether the +celebrity in question was noted for a magnificent high C, +or a left half-scissors hook, so long as the interview +was dished up hot and juicy, with plenty of quotation +marks, a liberal sprinkling of adjectives and adverbs, +and a cut of the victim gracing the top of the column. + +It was long past the lunch hour when the prima donna +and the prize-fighter, properly embellished, were snapped +on the copy hook. The prima donna had chattered in +French; the prize-fighter had jabbered in slang; but the +charming old maid, who spoke Milwaukee English, was to +make better copy than a whole chorus of prima donnas, or +a ring full of fighters. Copy! It was such wonderful +stuff that I couldn't use it. + +It was with the charming old maid in mind that +Norberg summoned me. + +"Another special story for you," he cheerfully +announced. + +No answering cheer appeared upon my lunchless +features. "A prize-fighter at ten-thirty, and a prima +donna at twelve. What's the next choice morsel? An +aeronaut with another successful airship? or a cash girl +who has inherited a million?" + +Norberg's plump cheeks dimpled. "Neither. This time +it is a nice German old maid." + +"Eloped with the coachman, no doubt?" + +"I said a nice old maid. And she hasn't done +anything yet. You are to find out how she'll feel when +she does it." + +"Charmingly lucid," commented I, made savage by the +pangs of hunger. + +Norberg proceeded to outline the story with +characteristic vigor, a cigarette waggling from the +corner of his mouth. + +"Name and address on this slip. Take a Greenfield +car. Nice old maid has lived in nice old cottage all her +life. Grandfather built it himself about a hundred +years ago. Whole family was born in it, and married in +it, and died in it, see? It's crammed full of +spinning-wheels and mahogany and stuff that'll make your +eyes stick out. See? Well, there's no one left now but +the nice old maid, all alone. She had a sister who ran +away with a scamp some years ago. Nice old maid has +never heard of her since, but she leaves the gate ajar or +the latch-string open, or a lamp in the window, or +something, so that if ever she wanders back to the old +home she'll know she's welcome, see?" + +"Sounds like a moving picture play," I remarked. + +"Wait a minute. Here's the point. The city wants to +build a branch library or something on her property, and +the nice old party is so pinched for money that she'll +have to take their offer. So the time has come when +she'll have to leave that old cottage, with its romance, +and its memories, and its lamp in the window, and go to +live in a cheap little flat, see? Where the old +four-poster will choke up the bedroom--" + +"And the parlor will be done in red and green," I put +in, eagerly, "and where there will be an ingrowing +sideboard in the dining-room that won't fit in with the +quaint old dinner-set at all, and a kitchenette just off +that, in which the great iron pots and kettles that used +to hold the family dinners will be monstrously out of +place--" + +"You're on," said Norberg. + +Half an hour later I stood before the cottage, set +primly in the center of a great lot that extended for +half a square on all sides. A winter-sodden, bare enough +sight it was in the gray of that March day. But it was +not long before Alma Pflugel, standing in the midst of it, +the March winds flapping her neat skirts about her ankles, +filled it with a blaze of color. As she talked, a row of +stately hollyhocks, pink, and scarlet, and saffron, +reared their heads against the cottage sides. The chill +March air became sweet with the scent of heliotrope, and +Sweet William, and pansies, and bridal wreath. The naked +twigs of the rose bushes flowered into wondrous bloom so +that they bent to the ground with their weight of crimson +and yellow glory. The bare brick paths were overrun with +the green of growing things. Gray mounds of dirt grew +vivid with the fire of poppies. Even the rain-soaked +wood of the pea-frames miraculously was hidden in a hedge +of green, over which ran riot the butterfly beauty of the +lavender, and pink, and cerise blossoms. Oh, she did +marvelous things that dull March day, did plain German +Alma Pflugel! And still more marvelous were the things +that were to come. + +But of these things we knew nothing as the door was +opened and Alma Pflugel and I gazed curiously at one +another. Surprise was writ large on her honest face as +I disclosed my errand. It was plain that the ways of +newspaper reporters were foreign to the life of this +plain German woman, but she bade me enter with a sweet +graciousness of manner. + +Wondering, but silent, she led the way down the dim +narrow hallway to the sitting-room beyond. And there I +saw that Norberg had known whereof he spoke. + +A stout, red-faced stove glowed cheerfully in one +corner of the room. Back of the stove a sleepy cat +opened one indolent eye, yawned shamelessly, and rose to +investigate, as is the way of cats. The windows were +aglow with the sturdy potted plants that flower-loving +German women coax into bloom. The low-ceilinged room +twinkled and shone as the polished surfaces of tables and +chairs reflected the rosy glow from the plethoric stove. +I sank into the depths of a huge rocker that must have +been built for Grosspapa Pflugel's generous curves. Alma +Pflugel, in a chair opposite, politely waited for this +new process of interviewing to begin, but relaxed in the +embrace of that great armchair I suddenly realized that +I was very tired and hungry, and talk-weary, and that +here; was a great peace. The prima donna, with her +French, and her paint, and her pearls, and the +prizefighter with his slang, and his cauliflower ear, and +his diamonds, seemed creatures of another planet. My +eyes closed. A delicious sensation of warmth and drowsy +contentment stole over me. + +"Do listen to the purring of that cat!" I murmured. +"Oh, newspapers have no place in this. This is peace and +rest." + +Alma Pflugel leaned forward in her chair. "You--you +like it?" + +"Like it! This is home. I feel as though my mother +were here in this room, seated in one of those deep +chairs, with a bit of sewing in her hand; so near that I +could touch her cheek with my fingers." + +Alma Pflugel rose from her chair and came over to +me. She timidly placed her hand on my arm. "Ah, I am so +glad you are like that. You do not laugh at the low +ceilings, and the sunken floors, and the old-fashioned +rooms. You do not raise your eyes in horror and say: +`No conveniences! And why don't you try striped wall +paper? It would make those dreadful ceilings seem +higher.' How nice you are to understand like that!" + +My hand crept over to cover her own that lay on my +arm. "Indeed, indeed I do understand," I whispered. +Which, as the veriest cub reporter can testify, is no way +to begin an interview. + +A hundred happy memories filled the little +low room as Alma Pflugel showed me her treasures. The +cat purred in great content, and the stove cast a rosy +glow over the scene as the simple woman told the story of +each precious relic, from the battered candle-dipper on +the shelf, to the great mahogany folding table, and +sewing stand, and carved bed. Then there was the old +horn lantern that Jacob Pflugel had used a century +before, and in one corner of the sitting-room stood +Grossmutter Pflugel's spinning-wheel. Behind cupboard +doors were ranged the carefully preserved blue-and-white +china dishes, and on the shelf below stood the clumsy +earthen set that Grosspapa Pflugel himself had modeled +for his young bride in those days of long ago. In the +linen chest there still lay, in neat, fragrant folds, +piles of the linen that had been spun on that +time-yellowed spinning-wheel. And because of the tragedy +in the honest face bent over these dear treasures, and +because she tried so bravely to hide her tears, I knew in +my heart that this could never be a newspaper story. + +"So," said Alma Pflugel at last, and rose and walked +slowly to the window and stood looking out at the +wind-swept garden. That window, with its many tiny panes, +once had looked out across a wilderness, with an Indian +camp not far away. Grossmutter Pflugel had sat at that +window many a bitter winter night, with her baby in her +arms, watching and waiting for the young husband who was +urging his ox-team across the ice of Lake Michigan in the +teeth of a raging blizzard. + +The little, low-ceilinged room was very still. I +looked at Alma Pflugel standing there at the window in +her neat blue gown, and something about the face and +figure--or was it the pose of the sorrowful head?--seemed +strangely familiar. Somewhere in my mind the resemblance +haunted me. Resemblance to--what? Whom? + +"Would you like to see my garden?" asked Alma +Pflugel, turning from the window. For a moment I stared +in wonderment. But the honest, kindly face was +unsmiling. "These things that I have shown you, I can +take with me when I--go. But there," and she pointed +out over the bare, wind-swept lot, "there is something +that I cannot take. My flowers! You see that mound over +there, covered so snug and warm with burlap and sacking? +There my tulips and hyacinths sleep. In a few weeks, +when the covering is whisked off--ah, you shall see! +Then one can be quite sure that the spring is here. Who +can look at a great bed of red and pink and lavender and +yellow tulips and hyacinths, and doubt it? Come." + +With a quick gesture she threw a shawl over her head, +and beckoned me. Together we stepped out into the chill +of the raw March afternoon. She stood a moment, silent, +gazing over the sodden earth. Then she flitted swiftly +down the narrow path, and halted before a queer little +structure of brick, covered with the skeleton of a +creeping vine. Stooping, Alma Pflugel pulled open the +rusty iron door and smiled up at me. + +"This was my grandmother's oven. All her bread she +baked in this little brick stove. Black bread it was, +with a great thick crust, and a bitter taste. But it was +sweet, too. I have never tasted any so good. I like to +think of Grossmutter, when she was a bride, baking her +first batch of bread in this oven that Grossvater built +for her. And because the old oven was so very difficult +to manage, and because she was such a young thing--only +sixteen!--I like to think that her first loaves were +perhaps not so successful, and that Grosspapa joked about +them, and that the little bride wept, so that the young +husband had to kiss away the tears." + +She shut the rusty, sagging door very slowly and +gently. "No doubt the workmen who will come to +prepare the ground for the new library will laugh and +joke among themselves when they see the oven, and they +will kick it with their heels, and wonder what the old +brick mound could have been." + +There was a little twisted smile on her face as she +rose--a smile that brought a hot mist of tears to my +eyes. There was tragedy itself in that spare, homely +figure standing there in the garden, the wind twining her +skirts about her. + +"You should but see the children peering over the +fence to see my flowers in the summer," she said. The +blue eyes wore a wistful, far-away look. "All the +children know my garden. It blooms from April to +October. There I have my sweet peas; and here my roses-- +thousands of them! Some are as red as a drop of blood, +and some as white as a bridal wreath. When they are +blossoming it makes the heart ache, it is so beautiful." + +She had quite forgotten me now. For her the garden +was all abloom once more. It was as though the Spirit of +the Flowers had touched the naked twigs with fairy +fingers, waking them into glowing life for her who never +again was to shower her love and care upon them. + +"These are my poppies. Did you ever come out in the +morning to find a hundred poppy faces smiling at you, and +swaying and glistening and rippling in the breeze? There +they are, scarlet and pink, side by side as only God can +place them. And near the poppies I planted my pansies, +because each is a lesson to the other. I call my pansies +little children with happy faces. See how this great +purple one winks his yellow eye, and laughs!" + +Her gray shawl had slipped back from her face and lay +about her shoulders, and the wind had tossed her hair +into a soft fluff about her head. + +"We used to come out here in the early morning, my +little Schwester and I, to see which rose had unfolded +its petals overnight, or whether this great peony that +had held its white head so high only yesterday, was +humbled to the ground in a heap of ragged leaves. Oh, in +the morning she loved it best. And so every summer I +have made the garden bloom again, so that when she comes +back she will see flowers greet her. + +"All the way up the path to the door she will walk in +an aisle of fragrance, and when she turns the handle of +the old door she will find it unlocked, summer and winter, +day and night, so that she has only to turn the knob and +enter." + +She stopped, abruptly. The light died out of her +face. She glanced at me, half defiantly, half timidly, +as one who is not quite sure of what she has said. At +that I went over to her, and took her work-worn hands in +mine, and smiled down into the faded blue eyes grown dim +with tears and watching. + +"Perhaps--who knows?--the little sister may come yet. +I feel it. She will walk up the little path, and try the +handle of the door, and it will turn beneath her fingers, +and she will enter." + +With my arm about her we walked down the path toward +the old-fashioned arbor, bare now except for the tendrils +that twined about the lattice. The arbor was fitted with +a wooden floor, and there were rustic chairs, and a +table. I could picture the sisters sitting there with +their sewing during the long, peaceful summer afternoons. +Alma Pflugel would be wearing one of her neat gingham +gowns, very starched and stiff, with perhaps a snowy +apron edged with a border of heavy crochet done by the +wrinkled fingers of Grossmutter Pflugel. On the rustic +table there would be a bowl of flowers, and a pot of +delicious Kaffee, and a plate of German Kaffeekuchen, +and through the leafy doorway the scent of the +wonderful garden would come stealing. + +I thought of the cheap little flat, with the ugly +sideboard, and the bit of weedy yard in the rear, and the +alley beyond that, and the red and green wall paper in +the parlor. The next moment, to my horror, Alma Pflugel +had dropped to her knees before the table in the damp +little arbor, her face in her hands, her spare shoulders +shaking. + +"Ich kann's nicht thun!" she moaned. "Ich kann +nicht! Ach, kleine Schwester, wo bist du denn! Nachts +und Morgens bete ich, aber doch kommst du nicht." + +A great dry sob shook her. Her hand went to her +breast, to her throat, to her lips, with an odd, stifled +gesture. + +"Do that again!" I cried, and shook Alma Pflugel +sharply by the shoulder. "Do that again!" + +Her startled blue eyes looked into mine. What do you +mean?" she asked. + +"That--that gesture. I've seen it--somewhere--that +trick of pressing the hand to the breast, to the throat, +to the lips--Oh!" + +Suddenly I knew. I lifted the drooping head and +rumpled its neat braids, and laughed down into the +startled face. + +"She's here!" I shouted, and started a dance of +triumph on the shaky floor of the old arbor. "I know +her. From the moment I saw you the resemblance haunted +me." And then as Alma Pflugel continued to stare, while +the stunned bewilderment grew in her eyes, "Why, I have +one-fourth interest in your own nephew this very minute. +And his name is Bennie! " + +Whereupon Alma Pflugel fainted quietly away in the +chilly little grape arbor, with her head on my shoulder. + +I called myself savage names as I chafed her hands +and did all the foolish, futile things that distracted +humans think of at such times, wondering, meanwhile, if +I had been quite mad to discern a resemblance between +this simple, clear-eyed gentle German woman, and the +battered, ragged, swaying figure that had stood at the +judge's bench. + +Suddenly Alma Pflugel opened her eyes. Recognition +dawned in them slowly. Then, with a jerk, she sat +upright, her trembling hands clinging to me. + +"Where is she? Take me to her. Ach, you are sure-- +sure?" + +"Lordy, I hope so! Come, you must let me help you +into the house. And where is the nearest telephone? +Never mind; I'll find one." + +When I had succeeded in finding the nearest drug +store I spent a wild ten minutes telephoning the +surprised little probation officer, then Frau Nirlanger, +and finally Blackie, for no particular reason. I +shrieked my story over the wire in disconnected, +incoherent sentences. Then I rushed back to the little +cottage where Alma Pflugel and I waited with what +patience we could summon. + +Blackie was the first to arrive. He required few +explanations. That is one of the nicest things about +Blackie. He understands by leaps and bounds, while +others crawl to comprehension. But when Frau Nirlanger +came, with Bennie in tow, there were tears, and +exclamations, followed by a little stricken silence on +the part of Frau Nirlanger when she saw Bennie snatched +to the breast of this weeping woman. So it was that in +the midst of the confusion we did not hear the approach +of the probation officer and her charge. They came up +the path to the door, and there the little sister turned +the knob, and it yielded under her fingers, and the old +door swung open; and so she entered the house quite as +Alma Pflugel had planned she should, except that the +roses were not blooming along the edge of the sunken +brick walk. + +She entered the room in silence, and no one could +have recognized in this pretty, fragile creature the +pitiful wreck of the juvenile court. And when Alma +Pflugel saw the face of the little sister--the poor, +marred, stricken face--her own face became terrible in +its agony. She put Bennie down very gently, rose, and +took the shaking little figure in her strong arms, and +held it as though never to let it go again. There were +little broken words of love and pity. She called her +"Lammchen" and "little one," and so Frau Nirlanger and +Blackie and I stole away, after a whispered consultation +with the little probation officer. + +Blackie had come in his red runabout, and now he +tucked us into it, feigning a deep disgust. + +"I'd like to know where I enter into this little +drayma," he growled. "Ain't I got nothin' t' do but run +around town unitin' long lost sisters an' orphans!" + +"Now, Blackie, you know you would never have forgiven +me if I had left you out of this. Besides, you must +hustle around and see that they need not move out of that +dear little cottage. Now don't say a word! You'll never +have a greater chance to act the fairy godmother." + +Frau Nirlanger's hand sought mine and I squeezed it +in silent sympathy. Poor little Frau Nirlanger, the +happiness of another had brought her only sorrow. And +she had kissed Bennie good-by with the knowledge that the +little blue-painted bed, with its faded red roses, would +again stand empty in the gloom of the Knapf attic. + +Norberg glanced up quickly as I entered the city +room. "Get something good on that south side story?" he +asked. + +"Why, no," I answered. "You were mistaken about +that. The--the nice old maid is not going to move, after +all." + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FAREWELL TO KNAPFS + +Consternation has corrugated the brows of the aborigines. +Consternation twice confounded had added a wrinkle or two +to my collection. We are homeless. That is, we are +Knapfless--we, to whom the Knapfs spelled home. + +Herr Knapf, mustache aquiver, and Frau Knapf, cheek +bones glistening, broke the news to us one evening just +a week after the exciting day which so changed Bennie's +life. "Es thut uns sehr, sehr leid," Herr Knapf had +begun. And before he had finished, protesting German +groans mingled with voluble German explanations. The +aborigines were stricken down. They clapped pudgy fists +to knobby foreheads; they smote their breasts, and made +wild gestures with their arms. If my protests were less +frenzied than theirs, it was only because my knowledge of +German stops at words of six syllables. + +Out of the chaos of ejaculations and interrogation +the reason for our expulsion at last was made +clear. The little German hotel had not been +remunerative. Our host and hostess were too hospitable +and too polite to state the true reason for this state of +affairs. Perhaps rents were too high. Perhaps, thought +I, Frau Knapf had been too liberal with the butter in the +stewed chicken. Perhaps there had been too many golden +Pfannkuchen with real eggs and milk stirred into them, +and with toothsome little islands of ruddy currant jelly +on top. Perhaps there had been too much honest, +nourishing food, and not enough boarding-house victuals. +At any rate, the enterprise would have to be abandoned. + +It was then that the bare, bright little dining room, +with its queer prints of chin-chucking lieutenants, and +its queerer faces, and its German cookery became very +dear to me. I had grown to like Frau Knapf, of the +shining cheek bones, and Herr Knapf, of the heavy +geniality. A close bond of friendship had sprung up +between Frau Nirlanger and me. I would miss her friendly +visits, and her pretty ways, and her sparkling +conversation. She and I had held many kimonoed pow-wows, +and sometimes--not often--she had given me wonderful +glimpses of that which she had left--of +Vienna, the opera, the court, the life which had been +hers. She talked marvelously well, for she had all the +charm and vivacity of the true Viennese. Even the +aborigines, bristling pompadours, thick spectacles, +terrifying manner, and all, became as dear as old +friends, now that I knew I must lose them. + +The great, high-ceilinged room upstairs had taken on +the look of home. The Blue-beard closet no longer +appalled me. The very purpleness of the purple roses in +the rug had grown beautiful in my eyes because they were +part of that little domain which spelled peace and +comfort and kindness. How could I live without the stout +yellow brocade armchair! Its plethoric curves were balm +for my tired bones. Its great lap admitted of sitting +with knees crossed, Turk-fashion. Its cushioned back +stopped just at the point where the head found needed +support. Its pudgy arms offered rest for tired elbows; +its yielding bosom was made for tired backs. Given the +padded comfort of that stout old chair--a friendly, +time-tried book between my fingers--a dish of ruddy +apples twinkling in the fire-light; my mundane soul +snuggled in content. And then, too, the +book-in-the-making had grown in that room. It had +developed from a weak, wobbling uncertainty into a +lusty full-blooded thing that grew and grew +until it promised soon to become mansize. + +Now all this was to be changed. And I knew that I +would miss the easy German atmosphere of the place; the +kindness they had shown me; the chattering, admiring +Minna; the taffy-colored dachshund; the aborigines with +their ill-smelling pipes and flappy slippers; the +Wienerschnitzel; the crushed-looking wives and the +masterful German husbands; the very darns in the +table-cloths and the very nicks in the china. + +We had a last family gathering in token of our +appreciation of Herr and Frau Knapf. And because I had +not seen him for almost three weeks; and because the time +for his going was drawing so sickeningly near; and +because I was quite sure that I had myself in hand; and +because he knew the Knapfs, and was fond of them; and +because-well, I invited Von Gerhard. He came, and I +found myself dangerously glad to see him, so that I made +my greeting as airy and frivolous as possible. Perhaps +I overdid the airy business, for Von Gerhard looked at me +for a long, silent minute, until the nonsense I had been +chattering died on my lips, and I found myself staring up +at him like a child that is apprehensive of being scolded +for some naughtiness. + +"Not so much chatter, small one," he said, +unsmilingly. "This pretense, it is not necessary between +you and me. So. You are ein bischen blasz, nicht? A +little pale? You have not been ill, Dawn?" + +"Ill? Never felt more chipper in my life," I made +flippant answer, "and I adore these people who are +forever telling one how unusually thin, or pale, or +scrawny one is looking." + +"Na, they are not to be satisfied, these women! If +I were to tell you how lovely you look to me to-night you +would draw yourself up with chill dignity and remind me +that I am not privileged to say these things to you. So +I discreetly mention that you are looking, interestingly +pale, taking care to keep all tenderness out of my tones, +and still you are not pleased." He shrugged despairing +shoulders. + +"Can't you strike a happy medium between rudeness +and tenderness? After all, I haven't had a glimpse of +your blond beauty for three weeks. And while I don't ask +you to whisper sweet nothings, still, after twenty-one +days--" + +"You have been lonely? If only I thought that those +weeks have been as wearisome to you--" + +"Not lonely exactly," I hurriedly interrupted, "but +sort of wishing that some one would pat me on the head +and tell me that I was a good doggie. You know what I +mean. It is so easy to become accustomed to +thoughtfulness and devotion, and so dreadfully hard to be +happy without it, once one has had it. This has been a +sort of training for what I may expect when Vienna has +swallowed you up." + +"You are still obstinate? These three weeks have not +changed you? Ach, Dawn! Kindchen!--" + +But I knew that these were thin spots marked +"Danger!" in our conversational pond. So, "Come," said +I. "I have two new aborigines for you to meet. They are +the very shiniest and wildest of all our shiny-faced and +wild aborigines. And you should see their trousers and +neckties! If you dare to come back from Vienna wearing +trousers like these!--" + +"And is the party in honor of these new aborigines?" +laughed Von Gerhard. "You did not explain in your note. +Merely you asked me to come, knowing that I cared not +if it were a lawn fete or a ball, so long as I might +again be with you." + +We were on our way to the dining room, where the +festivities were to be held. I stopped and turned a look +of surprise upon him. + +"Don't you know that the Knapfs are leaving? Did I +neglect to mention that this is a farewell party for Herr +and Frau Knapf? We are losing our home, and we have just +one week in which to find another." + +"But where will you go? And why did you not tell me +this before?" + +"I haven't an idea where I shall lay my poor old +head. In the lap of the gods, probably, for I don't know +how I shall find the time to interview landladies and +pack my belongings in seven short days. The book will +have to suffer for it. Just when it was getting along so +beautifully, too." + +There was a dangerous tenderness in Von Gerhard's +eyes as he said: "Again you are a wanderer, eh--small +one? That you, with your love of beautiful things, and +your fastidiousness, should have to live in this way--in +these boarding-houses, alone, with not even the comforts +that should be yours. Ach, Kindchen, you were not made +for that. You were intended for the home, with a husband, +and kinder, and all that is truly worth while." + +I swallowed a lump in my throat as I shrugged my +shoulders. "Pooh! Any woman can have a husband and +babies," I retorted, wickedly. "But mighty few women can +write a book. It's a special curse." + +"And you prefer this life--this existence, to the +things that I offer you! You would endure these +hardships rather than give up the nonsensical views which +you entertain toward your--" + +"Please. We were not to talk of that. I am enduring +no hardships. Since I have lived in this pretty town I +have become a worshiper of the goddess Gemutlichkeit. +Perhaps I shan't find another home as dear to my heart as +this has been, but at least I shan't have to sleep on a +park bench, and any one can tell you that park benches +have long been the favored resting place of genius. +There is Frau Nirlanger beckoning us. Now do stop +scowling, and smile for the lady. I know you will get on +beautifully with the aborigines." + +He did get on with them so beautifully that in less +than half an hour they were swapping stories of Germany, +of Austria, of the universities, of student life. Frau +Knapf served a late supper, at which some one led in +singing Auld Lang Syne, although the sounds emanating +from the aborigines' end of the table sounded +suspiciously like Die Wacht am Rhein. +Following that the aborigines rose en masse and roared +out their German university songs, banging their glasses +on the table when they came to the chorus until we all +caught the spirit of it and banged our glasses like +rathskeller veterans. Then the red-faced and amorous +Fritz, he of the absent Lena, announced his intention of +entertaining the company. Made bold by an injudicious +mixture of Herr Knapf's excellent beer, and a wonderful +punch which Von Gerhard had concocted, Fritz mounted his +chair, placed his plump hand over the spot where he +supposed his heart to be, fastened his watery blue eyes +upon my surprised and blushing countenance, and sang +"Weh! Dass Wir Scheiden Mussen!" in an astonishingly +beautiful barytone. I dared not look at Von Gerhard, for +I knew that he was purple with suppressed mirth, so I +stared stonily at the sardine sandwich and dill pickle on +my plate, and felt myself growing hot and hysterical, and +cold and tearful by turns. + +At the end of the last verse I rose hastily +and brought from their hiding-place the gifts which we of +Knapfs' had purchased as remembrances for Herr and Frau +Knapf. I had been delegated to make the presentation +speech, so I grasped in one hand the too elaborate pipe +that was to make Herr Knapf unhappy, and the too +fashionable silk umbrella that was to appall Frau Knapf, +and ascended the little platform at the end of the dining +room, and began to speak in what I fondly thought to be +fluent and highsounding German. Immediately the +aborigines went off into paroxysms of laughter. They +threw back their heads and roared, and slapped their +thighs, and spluttered. It appeared that they thought I +was making a humorous speech. At that discovery I cast +dignity aside and continued my speech in the language of +a German vaudeville comedian, with a dash of Weber and +Field here and there. With the presentation of the silk +umbrella Frau Knapf burst into tears, groped about +helplessly for her apron, realized that it was missing +from its accustomed place, and wiped her tears upon her +cherished blue silk sleeve in the utter abandon of her +sorrow. We drank to the future health and prosperity of +our tearful host and hostess, and some one suggested drei +mal drei, to which we responded in a manner to make the +chin-chucking lieutenant tremble in his frame on the wall. + +When it was all over Frau Nirlanger beckoned me, and +she, Dr. von Gerhard and I stole out into the hall and +stood at the foot of the stairway, discussing our plans +for the future, and trying to smile as we talked of this +plan and that. Frau Nirlanger, in the pretty white gown, +was looking haggard and distrait. The oogly husband was +still in the dining room, finishing the beer and punch, +of which he had already taken too much. + +"A tiny apartment we have taken," said Frau +Nirlanger, softly. "It is better so. Then I shall have +a little housework, a little cooking, a little marketing +to keep me busy and perhaps happy." Her hand closed over +mine. "But that shall us not separate," she pleaded. +"Without you to make me sometimes laugh what should I +then do? You will bring her often to our little +apartment, not?" she went on, turning appealingly to Von +Gerhard. + +"As often as Mrs. Orme will allow me," he answered. + +"Ach, yes. So lonely I shall be. You do not know +what she has been to me, this Dawn. She is brave for +two. Always laughing she is, and merry, nicht wahr? +Meine kleine Soldatin, I call her. + +"Soldatin, eh?" mused Von Gerhard. "Our little +soldier. She is well named. And her battles she fights +alone. But quite alone." His eyes, as they looked down +on me from his great height had that in them which sent +the blood rushing and tingling to my finger-tips. I +brought my hand to my head in stiff military salute. + +"Inspection satisfactory, sir?" + +He laughed a rueful little laugh. "Eminently. Aber +ganz befriedigend." + +He was very tall, and straight and good to look at as +he stood there in the hall with the light from the +newel-post illuminating his features and emphasizing his +blondness. Frau Nirlanger's face wore a drawn little +look of pain as she gazed at him, and from him to the +figure of her husband who had just emerged from the +dining room, and was making unsteady progress toward us. +Herr Nirlanger's face was flushed and his damp, dark hair +was awry so that one lock straggled limply down over his +forehead. As he approached he surveyed us with a surly +frown that changed slowly into a leering grin. He +lurched over and placed a hand familiarly on my shoulder. + +"We mus' part," he announced, dramatically. "O, weh! +The bes' of frien's m'z part. Well, g'by, li'l +interfering Teufel. F'give you, though, b'cause you're +such a pretty li'l Teufel." He raised one hand as though +to pat my check and because of the horror which I saw on +the face of the woman beside me I tried to smile, and did +not shrink from him. But with a quick movement Von +Gerhard clutched the swaying figure and turned it so that +it faced the stairs. + +"Come Nirlanger! Time for hard-working men like you +and me to be in bed. Mrs. Orme must not nod over her +desk to-morrow, either. So good-night. Schlafen Sie +wohl." + +Konrad Nirlanger turned a scowling face over his +shoulder. Then he forgot what he was scowling for, and +smiled a leering smile. + +"Pretty good frien's, you an' the li'l Teufel, yes? +Guess we'll have to watch you, huh, Anna? We'll watch +'em, won't we?" + +He began to climb the stairs laboriously, with Frau +Nirlanger's light figure flitting just ahead of him. At +the bend in the stairway she turned and looked down on us +a moment, her eyes very bright and big. She pressed her +fingers to her lips and wafted a little kiss toward us +with a gesture indescribably graceful and pathetic. +She viewed her husband's laborious progress, not +daring to offer help. Then the turn in the stair hid her +from sight. + +In the dim quiet of the little hallway Von Gerhard +held out his hands--those deft, manual hands--those +steady, sure, surgeonly hands--hands to cling to, to +steady oneself by, and because I needed them most just +then, and because I longed with my whole soul to place +both my weary hands in those strong capable ones and to +bring those dear, cool, sane fingers up to my burning +cheeks, I put one foot on the first stair and held out +two chilly fingertips. "Good-night, Herr Doktor," I +said, "and thank you, not only for myself, but for her. +I have felt what she feels to-night. It is not a +pleasant thing to be ashamed of one's husband." + +Von Gerhard's two hands closed over that one of mine. +"Dawn, you will let me help you to find comfortable +quarters? You cannot tramp about from place to place all +the week. Let us get a list of addresses, and then, with +the machine, we can drive from one to the other in an +hour. It will at least save you time and strength." + +"Go boarding-house hunting in a stunning green +automobile!" I exclaimed. From my vantage point on the +steps I could look down on him, and there came over me a +great longing to run my fingers gently through that +crisp blond hair, and to +bring his head down close against my breast for one +exquisite moment. So--"Landladies and oitermobiles!" I +laughed. "Never! Don't you know that if they got one +glimpse, through the front parlor windows, of me stepping +grand-like out of your, green motor car, they would +promptly over-charge me for any room in the house? I +shall go room-hunting in my oldest hat, with one finger +sticking out of my glove." + +Von Gerhard shrugged despairing shoulders. + +"Na, of what use is it to plead with you. Sometimes +I wonder if, after all, you are not merely amusing +yourself. Getting copy, perhaps, for the book, or a new +experience to add to your already varied store." + +Abruptly I turned to hide my pain, and began to +ascend the stairs. With a bound Von Gerhard was beside +me, his face drawn and contrite. + +"Forgive me, Dawn! I know that you are wisest. It +is only that I become a little mad, I think, when I see +you battling alone like this, among strangers, and know +that I have not the right to help you. I knew not what +I was saying. Come, raise your eyes and smile, like the +little Soldatin that you are. So. Now I am forgiven, +yes?" + +I smiled cheerily enough into his blue eyes. "Quite +forgiven. And now you must run along. This is +scandalously late. The aborigines will be along saying +`Morgen!' instead of `Nabben'!' if we stay here much +longer. Good-night." + +"You will give me your new address as soon as you +have found a satisfactory home?" + +"Never fear! I probably shall be pestering you with +telephone calls, urging you to have pity upon me in my +loneliness. Now goodnight again. I'm as full of +farewells as a Bernhardt." And to end it I ran up the +stairs. At the bend, just where Frau Nirlanger had +turned, I too stopped and looked over my shoulder. Von +Gerhard was standing as I had left him, looking up at me. +And like Frau Nirlanger, I wafted a little kiss in his +direction, before I allowed the bend in the stairs to cut +off my view. But Von Gerhard did not signify by look or +word that he had seen it, as he stood looking up at me, +one strong white hand resting on the broad baluster. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +JUNE MOONLIGHT, AND A NEW BOARDINGHOUSE + +There was a week in which to scurry about for a new home. +The days scampered by, tripping over one another in their +haste. My sleeping hours were haunted by nightmares of +landladies and impossible boarding-house bedrooms. +Columns of "To Let, Furnished or Unfurnished" ads filed, +advanced, and retreated before my dizzy eyes. My time +after office hours was spent in climbing dim stairways, +interviewing unenthusiastic females in kimonos, and +peering into ugly bedrooms papered with sprawly and +impossible patterns and filled with the odors of +dead-and-gone dinners. I found one room less impossible +than the rest, only to be told that the preference was to +be given to a man who had "looked" the day before. + +"I d'ruther take gents only," explained the ample +person who carried the keys to the mansion. "Gents goes +early in the morning and comes in late at night, and +that's all you ever see of 'em, half the time. I've +tried ladies, an' they get me wild, always yellin' for +hot water to wash their hair, or pastin' handkerchiefs +up on the mirr'r or wantin' to butt into the kitchen to +press this or that. I'll let you know if the gent don't +take it, but I got an idea he will." + +He did. At any rate, no voice summoned me to that +haven for gents only. There were other landladies-- +landladies fat and German; landladies lean and Irish; +landladies loquacious (regardless of nationality); +landladies reserved; landladies husbandless, wedded, +widowed, divorced, and willing; landladies slatternly; +landladies prim; and all hinting of past estates wherein +there had been much grandeur. + +At last, when despair gripped me, and I had horrid +visions of my trunk, hat-box and typewriter reposing on +the sidewalk while I, homeless, sat perched in the midst +of them, I chanced upon a room which commanded a glorious +view of the lake. True, it was too expensive for my slim +purse; true, the owner of it was sour of feature; true, +the room itself was cavernous and unfriendly and +cold-looking, but the view of the great, blue lake +triumphed over all these, although a cautious inner voice +warned me that that lake view would cover a multitude of +sins. I remembered, later, how she of the sour visage +had dilated upon the subject of the sunrise over the water. +I told her at the time that while I was passionately fond +of sunrises myself, still I should like them just as well +did they not occur so early in the morning. Whereupon +she of the vinegar countenance had sniffed. I loathe +landladies who sniff. + +My trunk and trusty typewriter were sent on to my new +home at noon, unchaperoned, for I had no time to spare at +that hour of the day. Later I followed them, laden with +umbrella, boxes, brown-paper parcels, and other +unfashionable moving-day paraphernalia. I bumped and +banged my way up the two flights of stairs that led to my +lake view and my bed, and my heart went down as my feet +went up. By the time the cavernous bedroom was gained +I felt decidedly quivery-mouthed, so that I dumped my +belongings on the floor in a heap and went to the window +to gaze on the lake until my spirits should rise. But it +was a gray day, and the lake looked large, and wet and +unsociable. You couldn't get chummy with it. I turned +to my great barn of a room. You couldn't get chummy with +that, either. I began to unpack, with furious energy. +In vain I turned every gas jet blazing high. They only +cast dim shadows in the murky vastness of that awful +chamber. A whole Fourth of July fireworks display, Roman +candles, sky-rockets, pin-wheels, set pieces and all, +could not have made that room take on a festive air. + +As I unpacked I thought of my cosy room at Knapfs', +and as I thought I took my head out of my trunk and sank +down on the floor with a satin blouse in one hand, and a +walking boot in the other, and wanted to bellow with +loneliness. There came to me dear visions of the +friendly old yellow brocade chair, and the lamplight, and +the fireplace, and Frau Nirlanger, and the Pfannkuchen. +I thought of the aborigines. In my homesick mind their +bumpy faces became things of transcendent beauty. I +could have put my head on their combined shoulders and +wept down their blue satin neckties. In my memory of +Frau Knapf it seemed to me that I could discern a dim, +misty halo hovering above her tightly wadded hair. My +soul went out to her as I recalled the shining +cheek-bones, and the apron, and the chickens stewed in +butter. I would have given a year out of my life to have +heard that good-natured, "Nabben'." One aborigine had +been wont to emphasize his after-dinner arguments with a +toothpick brandished fiercely between thumb and finger. +The brandisher had always annoyed me. Now I thought of +him with tenderness in my heart and reproached myself for +my fastidiousness. I should have wept if I had not had +a walking boot in one hand, and a satin blouse in the +other. A walking boot is but a cold comfort. And my +thriftiness denied my tears the soiling of the blouse. +So I sat up on my knees and finished the unpacking. + +Just before dinner time I donned a becoming gown to +chirk up my courage, groped my way down the long, dim +stairs, and telephoned to Von Gerhard. It seemed to me +that just to hear his voice would instill in me new +courage and hope. I gave the number, and waited. + +"Dr. von Gerhard?" repeated a woman's voice at the +other end of the wire. "He is very busy. Will you leave +your name?" + +"No," I snapped. "I'll hold the wire. Tell him that +Mrs. Orme is waiting to speak to him." + +"I'll see." The voice was grudging. + +Another wait; then--"Dawn!" came his voice in glad +surprise. + +"Hello!" I cried, hysterically. "Hello! Oh, talk! +Say something nice, for pity's sake! I'm sorry that I've +taken you away from whatever you were doing, but I +couldn't help it. Just talk please! I'm dying of +loneliness." + +"Child, are you ill?" Von Gerhard's voice was so +satisfyingly solicitous. "Is anything wrong? Your voice +is trembling. I can hear it quite plainly. What has +happened? Has Norah written--" + +"Norah? No. There was nothing in her letter to +upset me. It is only the strangeness of this place. I +shall be all right in a day or so." + +"The new home--it is satisfactory? You have found +what you wanted? Your room is comfortable?" + +"It's--it's a large room," I faltered. "And there's +a--a large view of the lake, too." + +There was a smothered sound at the other end of the +wire. Then--"I want you to meet me down-town at seven +o'clock. We will have dinner together," Von Gerhard +said, "I cannot have you moping up there all alone all +evening." + +"I can't come." + +"Why? " + +"Because I want to so very much. And anyway, I'm +much more cheerful now. I am going in to dinner. And +after dinner I shall get acquainted with my room. +There are six corners and all the space under the bed +that I haven't explored yet." + +"Dawn!" + +"Yes?" + +"If you were free to-night, would you marry me? If +you knew that the next month would find you mistress of +yourself would you--" + +"Ernst!" + +"Yes?" + +"If the gates of Heaven were opened wide to you, and +they had `Welcome!' done in diamonds over the door, and +all the loveliest angel ladies grouped about the doorway +to receive you, and just beyond you could see awaiting +you all that was beautiful, and most exquisite, and most +desirable, would you enter?" + +And then I hung up the receiver and went in to +dinner. I went in to dinner, but not to dine. Oh, +shades of those who have suffered in boarding-houses-- +that dining room! It must have been patterned after the +dining room at Dotheboys' hall. It was bare, and +cheerless, and fearfully undressed looking. The diners +were seated at two long, unsociable, boarding-housey +tables that ran the length of the room, and all the women +folks came down to dine with white wool shawls wrapped +snugly about their susceptible black silk shoulders. The +general effect was that of an Old People's Home. I found +seat after seat at table was filled, and myself the +youngest thing present. I felt so criminally young that +I wondered they did not strap me in a high chair and ram +bread and milk down my throat. Now and then the door +would open to admit another snuffly, ancient, and +be-shawled member of the company. I learned that Mrs. +Schwartz, on my right, did not care mooch for shteak for +breakfast, aber a leedle l'mb ch'p she likes. Also that +the elderly party on my left and the elderly party on my +right resented being separated by my person. +Conversation between E. P. on right, and E. P. on left +scintillated across my soup, thus: + +"How you feel this evening Mis' Maurer, h'm?" + +"Don't ask me." + +"No wonder you got rheumatism. My room was like a +ice-house all day. Yours too?" + +"I don't complain any more. Much good it does. +Barley soup again? In my own home I never ate it, and +here I pay my good money and get four time a week barley +soup. Are those fresh cucumbers? M-m-m-m. They +haven't stood long enough. Look at Mis' Miller. She +feels good this evening. She should feel good. +Twenty-five cents she won at bridge. I never seen how +that woman is got luck." + +I choked, gasped, and fled. + +Back in my own mausoleum once more I put things in +order, dragged my typewriter stand into the least murky +corner under the bravest gas jet and rescued my tottering +reason by turning out a long letter to Norah. That +finished, my spirits rose. I dived into the bottom of my +trunk for the loose sheets of the book-in-the-making, +glanced over the last three or four, discovered that they +did not sound so maudlin as I had feared, and straightway +forgot my gloomy surroundings in the fascination of +weaving the tale. + +In the midst of my fine frenzy there came a knock at +the door. In the hall stood the anemic little serving +maid who had attended me at dinner. She was almost +eclipsed by a huge green pasteboard box. + +"You're Mis' Orme, ain't you? This here's for you." + +The little white-cheeked maid hovered at the +threshold while I lifted the box cover and revealed the +perfection of the American beauty buds that lay there, +all dewy and fragrant. The eyes of the little maid +were wide with wonder as she gazed, and because I had +known flower-hunger I separated two stately blossoms +from the glowing cluster and held them out to her. + +"For me!" she gasped, and brought her lips down to +them, gently. Then--"There's a high green jar downstairs +you can have to stick your flowers in. You ain't got +nothin' big enough in here, except your water pitcher. +An' putting these grand flowers in a water pitcher--why, +it'd be like wearing a silk dress over a flannel +petticoat, wouldn't it?" + +When the anemic little boarding-house slavey with the +beauty-loving soul had fetched the green jar, I placed +the shining stems in it with gentle fingers. At the +bottom of the box I found a card that read: "For it is +impossible to live in a room with red roses and still be +traurig" + +How well he knew! And how truly impossible to be sad +when red roses are glowing for one, and filling the air +with their fragrance! + +The interruption was fatal to book-writing. My +thoughts were a chaos of red roses, and anemic little +maids with glowing eyes, and thoughtful young doctors +with a marvelous understanding of feminine moods. So I +turned out all the lights, undressed by moonlight, and, +throwing a kimono about me, carried my jar of roses to +the window and sat down beside them so that their +exquisite scent caressed me. + +The moonlight had put a spell of white magic upon the +lake. It was a light-flooded world that lay below my +window. Summer, finger on lip, had stolen in upon the +heels of spring. Dim, shadowy figures dotted the benches +of the park across the way. Just beyond lay the silver +lake, a dazzling bar of moonlight on its breast. Motors +rushed along the roadway with a roar and a whir and were +gone, leaving a trail of laughter behind them. From the +open window of the room below came the slip-slap of cards +on the polished table surface, and the low buzz of +occasional conversation as the players held postmortems. +Under the street light the popcorn vender's cart made a +blot on the mystic beauty of the scene below. But the +perfume of my red roses came to me, and their velvet +caressed my check, and beyond the noise and lights of the +street lay that glorious lake with the bar of moonlight +on its soft breast. I gazed and forgave the sour-faced +landlady her dining room; forgave the elderly parties +their shawls and barley soup; forgot for a moment +my weary thoughts of Peter Orme; forgot everything except +that it was June, and moonlight and good to be alive. + +All the changes and events of that strange, eventful +year came crowding to my mind as I crouched there at the +window. Four new friends, tried and true! I conned +them over joyously in my heart. What a strange contrast +they made! Blackie, of the elastic morals, and the still +more elastic heart; Frau Nirlanger, of the smiling lips +and the lilting voice and the tragic eyes--she who had +stooped from a great height to pluck the flower of love +blooming below, only to find a worthless weed sullying +her hand; Alma Pflugel, with the unquenchable light of +gratefulness in her honest face; Von Gerhard, ready to +act as buffer between myself and the world, tender as a +woman, gravely thoughtful, with the light of devotion +glowing in his steady eyes. + +"Here's richness," said I, like the fat boy in +Pickwick Papers. And I thanked God for the new energy +which had sent me to this lovely city by the lake. I +thanked Him that I had not been content to remain a +burden to Max and Norah, growing sour and crabbed with +the years. Those years of work and buffeting had made of +me a broader, finer, truer type of womanhood--had caused +me to forget my own little tragedy in contemplating the +great human comedy. And so I made a little prayer there +in the moon-flooded room. + +"O dear Lord," I prayed, and I did not mean that it +should sound irreverent. "O dear Lord, don't bother +about my ambitions! Just let me remain strong and well +enough to do the work that is my portion from day to day. +Keep me faithful to my standards of right and wrong. Let +this new and wonderful love which has come into my life +be a staff of strength and comfort instead of a burden of +weariness. Let me not grow careless and slangy as the +years go by. Let me keep my hair and complexion and +teeth, and deliver me from wearing soiled blouses and +doing my hair in a knob. Amen." + +I felt quite cheerful after that--so cheerful that +the strange bumps in the new bed did not bother me as +unfamiliar beds usually did. The roses I put to sleep in +their jar of green, keeping one to hold against my cheek +as I slipped into dreamland. I thought drowsily, just +before sleep claimed me: + +"To-morrow, after office hours, I'll tuck up my +skirt, and wrap my head in a towel and have a +housecleaning bee. I'll move the bed where the +wash-stand is now, and I'll make the chiffonnier swap +places with the couch. One feels on friendlier +terms with furniture that one has shoved about a little. +How brilliant the moonlight is! The room is flooded with +it. Those roses--sweet!--sweet!--" + +When I awoke it was morning. During the days that +followed I looked back gratefully upon that night, with +its moonlight, and its roses, and its great peace. + + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +THE SHADOW OF TERROR + +Two days before the date set for Von Gerhard's departure +the book was finished, typed, re-read, packed, and sent +away. Half an hour after it was gone all its most +glaring faults seemed to marshall themselves before my +mind's eye. Whole paragraphs, that had read quite +reasonably before, now loomed ludicrous in perspective. +I longed to snatch it back; to tidy it here, to take it +in there, to smooth certain rough places neglected in my +haste. For almost a year I had lived with this thing, so +close that its faults and its virtues had become +indistinguishable to me. Day and night, for many months, +it had been in my mind. Of late some instinct had +prompted me to finish it. I had worked at it far into +the night, until I marveled that the ancient occupants of +the surrounding rooms did not enter a combined protest +against the clack-clacking of my typewriter keys. And +now that it was gone I wondered, dully, if I could feel +Von Gerhard's departure more keenly. + +No one knew of the existence of the book except +Norah, Von Gerhard, Blackie and me. Blackie had a way of +inquiring after its progress in hushed tones of mock awe. +Also he delighted in getting down on hands and knees and +guiding a yard-stick carefully about my desk with a view +to having a fence built around it, bearing an inscription +which would inform admiring tourists that here was the +desk at which the brilliant author had been wont to sit +when grinding out heart-throb stories for the humble +Post. He took an impish delight in my struggles with +my hero and heroine, and his inquiries after the health +of both were of such a nature as to make any earnest +writer person rise in wrath and slay him. I had seen +little of Blackie of late. My spare hours had been +devoted to the work in hand. On the day after the book +was sent away I was conscious of a little shock as I +strolled into Blackie's sanctum and took my accustomed +seat beside his big desk. There was an oddly pinched +look about Blackie's nostrils and lips, I thought. And +the deep-set black eyes appeared deeper and blacker than +ever in his thin little face. + +A week of unseasonable weather had come upon the +city. June was going out in a wave of torrid heat such +as August might have boasted. The day had seemed endless and +intolerably close. I was feeling very limp and languid. +Perhaps, thought I, it was the heat which had wilted +Blackie's debonair spirits. + +"It has been a long time since we've had a talk-talk, +Blackie. I've missed you. Also you look just a wee bit +green around the edges. I'm thinking a vacation wouldn't +hurt you." + +Blackie's lean brown forefinger caressed the bowl of +his favorite pipe. His eyes, that had been gazing out +across the roofs beyond his window, came back to me, and +there was in them a curious and quizzical expression as +of one who is inwardly amused. + +"I've been thinkin' about a vacation. None of your +measly little two weeks' affairs, with one week on +salary, and th' other without. I ain't goin' t' take my +vacation for a while--not till fall, p'raps, or maybe +winter. But w'en I do take it, sa-a-ay, girl, it's goin' +t' be a real one." + +"But why wait so long?" I asked. "You need it now. +Who ever heard of putting off a vacation until winter!" + +"Well, I dunno," mused Blackie. "I just made my +arrangements for that time, and I hate t' muss 'em up. +You'll say, w'en the time comes, that my plans are +reasonable." + +There was a sharp ring from the telephone at +Blackie's elbow. He answered it, then thrust the +receiver into my hand. "For you," he said. + +It was Von Gerhard's voice that came to me. "I have +something to tell you," he said. "Something most +important. If I call for you at six we can drive out to +the bay for supper, yes? I must talk to you." + +"You have saved my life," I called back. "It has been +a beast of a day. You may talk as much and as +importantly as you like, so long as I am kept cool." + +"That was Von Gerhard," said I to Blackie, and tried +not to look uncomfortable. + +"Mm," grunted Blackie, pulling at his pipe. +"Thoughtful, ain't he?" + +I turned at the door. "He-- he's going away day +after to-morrow, Blackie," I explained, although no +explanation had been asked for, "to Vienna. He expects +to stay a year--or two--or three--" + +Blackie looked up quickly. "Goin' away, is he? +Well, maybe it's best, all around, girl. I see his +name's been mentioned in all the medical papers, and the +big magazines, and all that, lately. Gettin' t' be a big +bug, Von Gerhard is. Sorry he's goin', though. I was +plannin' t' consult him just before I go on my--vacation. +But some other guy'll do. He don't approve of me, Von +Gerhard don't." + +For some reason which I could never explain I went +back into the room and held out both my hands to Blackie. +His nervous brown fingers closed over them. "That +doesn't make one bit of difference to us, does it, +Blackie?" I said, gravely. "We're--we're not caring so +long as we approve of one another, are we?" + +"Not a bit, girl," smiled Blackie, "not a bit." + +When the green car stopped before the Old Folks' Home +I was in seraphic mood. I had bathed, donned clean linen +and a Dutch-necked gown. The result was most +soul-satisfying. My spirits rose unaccountably. Even +the sight of Von Gerhard, looking troubled and distrait, +did not quiet them. We darted away, out along the lake +front, past the toll gate, to the bay road stretching its +flawless length along the water's side. It was alive +with swift-moving motor cars swarming like +twentieth-century pilgrims toward the mecca of cool +breezes and comfort. There were proud limousines; +comfortable family cars; trim little roadsters; noisy +runabouts. Not a hoof-beat was to be heard. It was as +though the horseless age had indeed descended upon the +world. There was only a hum, a rush, a roar, as car +after car swept on. + +Summer homes nestled among the trees near the lake. +Through the branches one caught occasional gleams of +silvery water. The rush of cool air fanned my hot +forehead, tousled my hair, slid down between my collar +and the back of my neck, and I was grandly content. + +"Even though you are going to sail away, and even +though you have the grumps, and refuse to talk, and scowl +like a jabberwock, this is an extremely nice world. You +can't spoil it." + +"Behute!" Von Gerhard's tone was solemn. + +"Would you be faintly interested in knowing that the +book is finished?" + +"So? That is well. You were wearing yourself thin +over it. It was then quickly perfected." + +"Perfected!" I groaned. "I turn cold when I think of +it. The last chapters got away from me completely. They +lacked the punch." + +Von Gerhard considered that a moment, as I wickedly +had intended that he should. Then--"The punch? What is +that then--the punch?" + +Obligingly I elucidated. "A book may be written in +flawless style, with a plot, and a climax, and a lot of +little side surprises. But if it lacks that peculiar and +convincing quality poetically known as the punch, it might +as well never have been written. It can never be a +six-best-seller, neither will it live as a classic. You +will never see it advertised on the book review page of +the Saturday papers, nor will the man across the aisle in +the street car be so absorbed in its contents that he will +be taken past his corner." + +Von Gerhard looked troubled. "But the literary +value? Does that not enter--" + +"I don't aim to contribute to the literary uplift," +I assured him. "All my life I have cherished two +ambitions. One of them is to write a successful book, +and the other to learn to whistle through my teeth--this +way, you know, as the gallery gods do it. I am almost +despairing of the whistle, but I still have hopes of the +book." + +Whereupon Von Gerhard, after a moment's stiff +surprise, gave vent to one of his heartwarming roars. + +"Thanks," said I. "Now tell me the important news." + +His face grew serious in an instant. "Not yet, Dawn. +Later. Let us hear more about the book. Not so +flippant, however, small one. The time is past when you +can deceive me with your nonsense." + +"Surely you would not have me take myself seriously! +That's another debt I owe my Irish forefathers. They +could laugh--bless 'em!--in the very teeth of a potato +crop failure. And let me tell you, that takes some sense +of humor. The book is my potato crop. If it fails it +will mean that I must keep on drudging, with a knot or +two taken in my belt. But I'll squeeze a smile out of +the corner of my mouth, somehow. And if it succeeds! +Oh, Ernst, if it succeeds!" + +"Then, Kindchen?" + +"Then it means that I may have a little thin layer of +jam on my bread and butter. It won't mean money--at +least, I don't think it will. A first book never does. +But it will mean a future. It will mean that I will have +something solid to stand on. It will be a real +beginning--a breathing spell--time in which to accomplish +something really worth while--independence--freedom from +this tread-mill--" + +"Stop!" cried Von Gerhard, sharply. Then, as I +stared in surprise--"I do ask your pardon. I was again +rude, nicht wahr? But in me there is a queer vein of +German superstition that disapproves of air castles. +Sich einbilden, we call it." + +The lights of the bay pavilion twinkled just ahead. +The green car poked its nose up the path between rows of +empty machines. At last it drew up, panting, before a +vacant space between an imposing, scarlet touring car and +a smart, cream-colored runabout. We left it there and +walked up the light-flooded path. + +Inside the great, barn-like structure that did duty +as pavilion glasses clinked, chairs scraped on the wooden +floor; a burst of music followed a sharp fusillade of +applause. Through the open doorway could be seen a +company of Tyrolese singers in picturesque costumes of +scarlet and green and black. The scene was very noisy, +and very bright, and very German. + +"Not in there, eh?" said Von Gerhard, as though +divining my wish. "It is too brightly lighted, and too +noisy. We will find a table out here under the trees, +where the music is softened by the distance, and our eyes +are not offended by the ugliness of the singers. But +inexcusably ugly they are, these Tyrolese women." + +We found a table within the glow of the pavilion's +lights, but still so near the lake that we could hear the +water lapping the shore. A cadaverous, sandy-haired +waiter brought things to eat, and we made brave efforts +to appear hungry and hearty, but my high spirits were +ebbing fast, and Von Gerhard was frankly distraught. +One of the women singers appeared suddenly in the doorway +of the pavilion, then stole down the steps, and disappeared +in the shadow of the trees beyond our table. The voices of +the singers ceased abruptly. There was a moment's hushed +silence. Then, from the shadow of the trees came a woman's +voice, clear, strong, flexible, flooding the night with the +bird-like trill of the mountain yodel. The sound rose +and fell, and swelled and soared. A silence. Then, in +a great burst of melody the chorus of voices within the +pavilion answered the call. Again a silence. Again the +wonder of the woman's voice flooded the stillness, ending +in a note higher, clearer, sweeter than any that had gone +before. Then the little Tyrolese, her moment of glory +ended, sped into the light of the noisy pavilion again. + +When I turned to Von Gerhard my eyes were wet. "I +shall have that to remember, when you are gone." + +Von Gerhard beckoned the hovering waiter. "Take +these things away. And you need not return." He placed +something in the man's palm--something that caused a +sudden whisking away of empty dishes, and many obsequious +bows. + +Von Gerhard's face was turned away from me, toward +the beauty of the lake and sky. Now, as the last flirt +of the waiter's apron vanished around the corner he +turned his head slowly, and I saw that in his eyes which +made me catch my breath with apprehension. + +"What is it?" I cried. "Norah? Max? The children?" + +He shook his head. "They are well, so far, as I +know. I--perhaps first I should tell you--although this +is not the thing which I have to say to you--" + +"Yes?" I urged him on, impatiently. I had never seen +him like this. + +"I do not sail this week. I shall not be with Gluck +in Vienna this year. I shall stay here." + +"Here! Why? Surely--" + +"Because I shall be needed here, Dawn. Because I +cannot leave you now. You will need--some one--a +friend--" + +I stared at him with eyes that were wide with terror, +waiting for I knew not what. + +"Need--some one--for--what? I stammered. "Why should +you--" + +In the kindly shadow of the trees Von Gerhard's hands +took my icy ones, and held them in a close clasp of +encouragement. + +"Norah is coming to be with you--" + +"Norah! Why? Tell me at once! At once!" + +"Because Peter Orme has been sent home--cured," said +he. + +The lights of the pavilion fell away, and advanced, +and swung about in a great sickening circle. I shut my +eyes. The lights still swung before my eyes. Von +Gerhard leaned toward me with a word of alarm. I clung +to his hands with all my strength. + +"No!" I said, and the savage voice was not my own. +"No! No! No! It isn't true! It isn't--Oh, it's some +joke, isn't it? Tell me, it's--it's something funny, +isn't it? And after a bit we'll laugh--we'll laugh--of +course--see! I am smiling already--" + +"Dawn--dear one--it is true. God knows I wish that +I could be happy to know it. The hospital authorities +pronounce him cured. He has been quite sane for weeks." + +"You knew it--how long?" + +"You know that Max has attended to all communications +from the doctors there. A few weeks ago they wrote that +Orme had shown evidences of recovery. He spoke of you, +of the people he had known in New York, of his work on the +paper, all quite rationally and calmly. But they must +first be sure. Max went to New York a week ago. Peter +was gone. The hospital authorities were frightened and +apologetic. Peter had walked away quite coolly one day. +He had gone into the city, borrowed money of some old +newspaper cronies, and vanished. He may be there still. +He may be--" + +"Here! Ernst! Take me home! O God; I can't do it! +I can't! I ought to be happy, but I'm not. I ought to +be thankful, but I'm not, I'm not! The horror of having +him there was great enough, but it was nothing compared +to the horror of having him here. I used to dream that +he was well again, and that he was searching for me, and +the dreadful realness of it used to waken me, and I would +find myself shivering with terror. Once I dreamed that +I looked up from my desk to find him standing in the +doorway, smiling that mirthless smile of his, and I heard +him say, in his mocking way: `Hello, Dawn my love; +looking wonderfully well. Grass widowhood agrees with +you, eh?'" + +"Dawn, you must not laugh like that. Come, we will +go. You are shivering! Don't, dear, don't. See, you +have Norah, and Max,and me to help you. We will put him +on his feet. Physically he is not what he should be. I can +do much for him." + +"You!" I cried, and the humor of it was too exquisite +for laughter. + +"For that I gave up Vienna," said Von Gerhard, +simply. "You, too, must do your share." + +"My share! I have done my share. He was in the +gutter, and he was dragging me with him. When his +insanity came upon him I thanked God for it, and +struggled up again. Even Norah never knew what that +struggle was. Whatever I am, I am in spite of him. I +tell you I could hug my widow's weeds. Ten years ago he +showed me how horrible and unclean a thing can be made of +this beautiful life. I was a despairing, cowering girl +of twenty then--I am a woman now, happy in her work, her +friends; growing broader and saner in thought, quicker to +appreciate the finer things in life. And now--what?" + +They were dashing off a rollicking folk-song indoors. +When it was finished there came a burst of laughter and +the sharp spat of applauding hands, and shouts of +approbation. The sounds seemed seared upon my brain. I +rose and ran down the path toward the waiting machine. +There in the darkness I buried my shamed face in my hands +and prayed for the tears that would not come. + +It seemed hours before I heard Von Gerhard's firm, +quick tread upon the gravel path. He moved about the +machine, adjusting this and that, then took his place at +the wheel without a word. We glided out upon the smooth +white road. All the loveliness of the night seemed to +have vanished. Only the ugly, distorted shadows +remained. The terror of uncertainty gripped me. I could +not endure the sight of Von Gerhard's stern, set face. +I grasped his arm suddenly so that the machine veered and +darted across the road. With a mighty wrench Von Gerhard +righted it. He stopped the machine at the road-side. + +"Careful, Kindchen," he said, gravely. + +"Ernst," I said, and my breath came quickly, +chokingly, as though I had been running fast, "Ernst, I +can't do it. I'm not big enough. I can't. I hate him, +I tell you, I hate him! My life is my own. I've made it +what it is, in the face of a hundred temptations; in +spite of a hundred pitfalls. I can't lay it down again +for Peter Orme to trample. Ernst, if you love me, take +me away now. To Vienna--anywhere--only don't ask me to +take up my life with him again. I can't--I can't--" + +"Love you?" repeated Ernst, slowly, "yes. Too well--" + +"Too well--" + +"Yes, too well for that, Gott sei dank, small one. +Too well for that." + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +PETER ORME + +A man's figure rose from the shadows of the porch and +came forward to meet us as we swung up to the curbing. +I stifled a scream in my throat. As I shrank back into +the seat I heard the quick intake of Von Gerhard's breath +as he leaned forward to peer into the darkness. A sick +dread came upon me. + +"Sa-a-ay, girl," drawled the man's voice, with a +familiar little cackling laugh in it, "sa-a-ay, girl, the +policeman on th' beat's got me spotted for a suspicious +character. I been hoofin' it up an' down this block like +a distracted mamma waitin' for her daughter t' come home +from a boat ride." + +"Blackie! It's only you!" + +"Thanks, flatterer," simpered Blackie, coming to the +edge of the walk as I stepped from the automobile. "Was +you expectin' the landlady?" + +"I don't know just whom I expected. I--I'm nervous, +I think, and you startled me. Dr.Von Gerhard was taken +back for a moment, weren't you, Doctor?" + +Von Gerhard laughed ruefully. "Frankly, yes. It is +not early. And visitors at this hour--" + +"What in the world is it, Blackie?" I put in. "Don't +tell me that Norberg has been seized with one of his +fiendish inspirations at this time of night." + +Blackie struck a match and held it for an instant so +that the flare of it illuminated his face as he lighted +his cigarette. There was no laughter in the deep-set +black eyes. + +"What is it Blackie?" I asked again. The horror of +what Von Gerhard had told me made the prospect of any +lesser trial a welcome relief. + +"I got t' talk to you for a minute. P'raps Von +Gerhard 'd better hear it, too. I telephoned you an hour +ago. Tried to get you out to the bay. Waited here ever +since. Got a parlor, or somethin', where a guy can +talk?" + +I led the way indoors. The first floor seemed +deserted. The bare, unfriendly boarding-house parlor was +unoccupied, and one dim gas jet did duty as illumination. + +"Bring in the set pieces," muttered Blackie, as he +turned two more gas jets flaring high. "This parlor just +yells for a funeral." + +Von Gerhard was frowning. "Mrs. Orme is not well," +he began. "She has had a shock--some startling news +concerning--" + +"Her husband?" inquired Blackie, coolly. I started +up with a cry. "How could you know?" + +A look of relief came into Blackie's face. "That +helps a little. Now listen, kid. An' w'en I get +through, remember I'm there with the little helpin' mitt. +Have a cigarette, Doc?" + +"No," said Von Gerhard, shortly. + +Blackie's strange black eyes were fastened on my +face, and I saw an expression of pity in their depths as +he began to talk. + +"I was up at the Press Club to-night. Dropped in for +a minute or two, like I always do on the rounds. The +place sounded kind of still when I come up the steps, and +I wondered where all the boys was. Looked into the +billiard room--nothin' doin'. Poked my head in at the +writin' room--same. Ambled into the readin' room--empty. +Well, I steered for the dining room, an' there was the +bunch. An' just as I come in they give a roar, and I +started to investigate. Up against the fireplace, with +one hand in his pocket, and the other hanging careless +like on the mantel, stood a man--stranger t' me. He was +talkin' kind of low, and quick, bitin' off his words like a +Englishman. An' the boys, they was starin' with their +eyes, an' their mouths, and forgettin' t' smoke, an' lettin' +their pipes an' cigars go dead in their hands, while he +talked. Talk! Sa-a-ay, girl, that guy, he could talk the +leads right out of a ruled, locked form. I didn't catch his +name. Tall, thin, unearthly lookin' chap, with the whitest +teeth you ever saw, an' eyes--well, his eyes was somethin' +like a lighted pipe with a little fine ash over the red, +just waitin' for a sudden pull t' make it glow." + +"Peter!" I moaned, and buried my face in my hands. +Von Gerhard put a quick hand on my arm. But I shook it +off. "I'm not going to faint," I said, through set +teeth. "I'm not going to do anything silly. I want to +think. I want to . . . Go on, Blackie." + +"Just a minute," interrupted Von Gerhard. "Does he +know where Mrs. Orme is living?" + +"I'm coming t' that," returned Blackie, tranquilly. +"Though for Dawn's sake I'll say right here he don't +know. I told him later, that she was takin' a vacation +up at her folks' in Michigan." + +"Thank God!" I breathed. + +"Wore a New York Press Club button, this guy did. I +asked one of the boys standin' on the outer edge of the +circle what the fellow's name was, but he only says: +`Shut up Black! An' listen. He's seen every darn thing +in the world.' Well, I listened. He wasn't braggin'. +He wasn't talkin' big. He was just talkin'. Seems like +he'd been war correspondent in the Boer war, and the +Spanish-American, an' Gawd knows where. He spoke low, +not usin' any big words, either, an' I thought his eyes +looked somethin' like those of the Black Cat up on the +mantel just over his head--you know what I +mean, when the electric lights is turned on +in-inside{sic} the ugly thing. Well, every time he +showed signs of stoppin', one of the boys would up with +a question, and start him goin' again. He knew +everybody, an' everything, an' everywhere. All of a +sudden one of the boys points to the Roosevelt signature +on the wall--the one he scrawled up there along with all +the other celebrities first time he was entertained by +the Press Club boys. Well this guy, he looked at the +name for a minute. `Roosevelt?' he says, slow. `Oh, yes. +Seems t' me I've heard of him.' Well, at that the boys +yelled. Thought it was a good joke, seein' that Ted had +been smeared all over the first page of everything for +years. But kid, I seen th' look in that man's eyes when +he said it, and he wasn't jokin', girl. An' it came t' me, +all of a sudden, that all the things he'd been talkin' +about had happened almost ten years back. After he'd +made that break about Roosevelt he kind of shut up, and +strolled over to the piano and began t' play. You know +that bum old piano, with half a dozen dead keys, and no +tune? + +I looked up for a moment. "He could make you think +that it was a concert grand, couldn't he? He hasn't +forgotten even that?" + +"Forgotten? Girl, I don't know what his +accomplishments was when you knew him, but if he was any +more fascinatin' than he is now, then I'm glad I didn't +know him. He could charm the pay envelope away from a +reporter that was Saturday broke. Somethin' seemed t' +urge me t' go up t' him an' say: `Have a game of +billiards?' + +"`Don't care if I do,' says he, and swung his long +legs off the piano stool and we made for the billiard +room, with the whole gang after us. Sa-a-ay, girl, I'm +a modest violet, I am, but I don't mind mentionin' that +the general opinion up at the club is that I'm a little +wizard with the cue. Well, w'en he got through with me +I looked like little sister when big brother is tryin' t' +teach her how to hold the cue in her fingers. He just +sent them balls wherever he thought they'd look pretty. +I bet if he'd held up his thumb and finger an' said, +`jump through this!' them balls would of jumped." + +Von Gerhard took a couple of quick steps in Blackie's +direction. His eyes were blue steel. + +"Is this then necessary?" he asked. "All this leads +to what? Has not Mrs. Orme suffered enough, that she +should undergo this idle chatter? It is sufficient that +she knows this--this man is here. It is a time for +action, not for words." + +"Action's comin' later, Doc," drawled Blackie, +looking impish. "Monologuin' ain't my specialty. I +gener'ly let the other gink talk. You never can learn +nothin' by talkin'. But I got somethin' t' say t' Dawn +here. Now, in case you're bored the least bit, w'y don't +hesitate one minnit t'--" + +"Na, you are quite right, and I was hasty," said Von +Gerhard, and his eyes, with the kindly gleam in them, +smiled down upon the little man. "It is only that both +you and I are over-anxious to be of assistance to this +unhappy lady. Well, we shall see. You talked with this +man at the Press Club?" + +"He talked. I listened." + +"That would be Peter's way," I said, bitterly. How +he used to love to hold forth, and how I grew to long +for blessed silence--for fewer words, and +more of that reserve which means strength!" + +"All this time," continued Blackie, "I didn't know +his name. When we'd finished our game of billiards he +hung up his cue, and then he turned around like +lightning, and faced the boys that were standing around +with their hands in their pockets. He had a odd little +smile on his face--a smile with no fun it, if you know +what I mean. Guess you do, maybe, if you've seen it. + +"`Boys,' says he, smilin' that twisted kind of smile, +`boys, I'm lookin' for a job. I'm not much of a talker, +an' I'm only a amateur at music, and my game of billiards +is ragged. But there's one thing I can do, fellows, from +abc up to xyz, and that's write. I can write, boys, in +a way to make your pet little political scribe sound like +a high school paper. I don't promise to stick. As soon +as I get on my feet again I'm going back to New York. +But not just yet. Meanwhile, I'm going to the highest +bidder.' + +"Well, you know since Merkle left us we haven't had +a day when we wasn't scooped on some political guff. `I +guess we can use you--some place,' I says, tryin' not t' +look too anxious. If your ideas on salary can take a +slump be tween New York and Milwaukee. Our salaries +around here is more what is elegantly known as a stipend. +What's your name, Bo?' + +"`Name?' says he, smiling again, `Maybe it'll be +familiar t' you. That is, it will if my wife is usin' +it. Orme's my name--Peter Orme. Know a lady of that +name? Good.' + +"I hadn't said I did, but those eyes of his had seen +the look on my face. + +"`Friends in New York told me she was here,' he says. +`Where is she now? Got her address?' he says. + +"`She expectin' you?' I asked. + +"`N-not exactly,' he says, with that crooked grin. + +"`Thought not,' I answered, before I knew what I was +sayin'. `She's up north with her folks on a vacation.' + +"`The devil she is!' he says. `Well, in that case +can you let me have ten until Monday?'" + +Blackie came over to me as I sat cowering in my +chair. He patted my shoulder with one lean brown hand. +"Now kid, you dig, see? Beat it. Go home for a week. +I'll fix it up with Norberg. No tellin' what a guy like +that's goin' t' do. Send your brother-in-law down +here if you want to make it a family affair, and between +us, we'll see this thing through." + +I looked up at Von Gerhard. He was nodding approval. +It all seemed so easy, so temptingly easy. To run away! +Not to face him until I was safe in the shelter of +Norah's arms! I stood up, resolve lending me new +strength and courage. + +"I am going. I know it isn't brave, but I can't be +brave any longer. I'm too tired--too old--" + +I grasped the hand of each of those men who had stood +by me so staunchly in the year that was past. The words +of thanks that I had on my lips ended in dry, helpless +sobs. And because Blackie and Von Gerhard looked so +pathetically concerned and so unhappy in my unhappiness +my sobs changed to hysterical laughter, in which the two +men joined, after one moment's bewildered staring. + +So it was that we did not hear the front door slam, +or the sound of footsteps in the hall. Our overstrained +nerves found relief in laughter, so that Peter Orme, a +lean, ominous figure in the doorway looked in upon a +merry scene. + +I was the first to see him. And at the sight of the +emaciated figure, with its hollow cheeks and its sunken +eyes all terror and hatred left me, and I felt only a +great pity for this wreck of manhood. Slowly I went up +to him there in the doorway. + +"Well, Peter?" I said. + +"Well, Dawn old girl," said he "you're looking +wonderfully fit. Grass widowhood seems to agree with +you, eh?" + +And I knew then that my dread dream had come true. + +Peter advanced into the room with his old easy grace +of manner. His eyes glowed as he looked at Blackie. +Then he laughed, showing his even, white teeth. "Why, +you little liar!" he said, in his crisp, clear English. +"I've a notion to thwack you. What d' you mean by +telling me my wife's gone? You're not sweet on her +yourself, eh?" + +Von Gerhard stifled an exclamation, and Orme turned +quickly in his direction. "Who are you?" he asked. +"Still another admirer? Jolly time you were having when +I interrupted." He stared at Von Gerhard deliberately +and coolly. A little frown of dislike came into his +face. "You're a doctor, aren't you? I knew it. I can +tell by the hands, and the eyes, and the skin, and the +smell. Lived with 'em for ten years, damn them! Dawn, +tell these fellows they're excused, will you? And by the +way, you don't seem very happy to see me?" + +I went up to him then, and laid my hand on his arm. +"Peter, you don't understand. These two gentlemen have +been all that is kind to me. I am happy to know that you +are well again. Surely you do not expect me to be joyful +at seeing you. All that pretense was left out of our +lives long before your--illness. It hasn't been all +roses for me since then, Peter. I've worked until I +wanted to die with weariness. You know what this +newspaper game is for a woman. It doesn't grow easier as +she grows older and tireder." + +"Oh, cut out the melodrama, Dawn," sneered Peter. +"Have either of you fellows the makin's about you? +Thanks. I'm famished for a smoke." + +The worrying words of ten years ago rose +automatically to my lips. "Aren't you smoking too much, +Peter?" The tone was that of a harassed wife. + +Peter stared. Then he laughed his short, mirthless +little laugh. "By Jove! Dawn, I believe you're as much +my wife now as you were ten years ago. I always said, +you know, that you would have become a first-class nagger +if you hadn't had such a keen sense of humor. That saved +you." He turned his mocking eyes to Von Gerhard. +"Doesn't it beat the devil, how these good women stick to +a man, once they're married! There's a certain dog-like +devotion about it that's touching." + +There was a dreadful little silence. For the first +time in my knowledge of him I saw a hot, painful red +dyeing Blackie's sallow face. His eyes had a menace in +their depths. Then, very quietly, Von Gerhard stepped +forward and stopped directly before me. + +"Dawn," he said, very softly and gently, "I retract +my statement of an hour ago. If you will give me another +chance to do as you asked me, I shall thank God for it +all my life. There is no degradation in that. To live +with this man--that is degradation. And I say you shall +not suffer it." + +I looked up into his face, and it had never seemed so +dear to me. "The time for that is past," I said, my tone +as calm and even as his own. "A man like you cannot +burden himself with a derelict like me--mast gone, sails +gone, water-logged, drifting. Five years from now you'll +thank me for what I am saying now. My place is with this +other wreck--tossed about by wind and weather until we +both go down together." There came a sharp, insistent +ring at the door-bell. No answering sound came from the +regions above stairs. The ringing sounded again, louder +than before. + +"I'll be the Buttons," said Blackie, and disappeared +into the hallway. + +"Oh, yes, I've heard about you," came to our ears a +moment later, in a high, clear voice--a dear, beloved +voice that sent me flying to the door in an agony of +hope. + +"Norah!" I cried, "Norah! Norah! Norah!" And as +her blessed arms closed about me the tears that had been +denied me before came in a torrent of joy. + +"There, there!" murmured she, patting my shoulder +with those comforting mother-pats. "What's all this +about? And why didn't somebody meet me? I telegraphed. +You didn't get it? Well, I forgive you. Howdy-do, +Peter? I suppose you are Peter. I hope you haven't been +acting devilish again. That seems to be your specialty. +Now don't smile that Mephistophelian smile at me. It +doesn't frighten me. Von Gerhard, take him down to his +hotel. I'm dying for my kimono and bed. And this child +is trembling like a race-horse. Now run along, all of +you. Things that look greenery-yallery at night always +turn pink in the morning. Great Heavens! There's somebody +calling down from the second-floor landing. It sounds +like a landlady. Run, Dawn, and tell her your perfectly +respectable sister has come. Peter! Von Gerhard! +Mr. Blackie! Shoo!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +A TURN OF THE WHEEL + + +"You who were ever alert to befriend a man +You who were ever the first to defend a man, +You who had always the money to lend a man +Down on his luck and hard up for a V, +Sure you'll be playing a harp in beatitude +(And a quare sight you will be in that attitude) +Some day, where gratitude seems but a platitude, +You'll find your latitude." + +From my desk I could see Peter standing in the doorway of +the news editor's room. I shut my eyes for a moment. +Then I opened them again, quickly. No, it was not a +dream. He was there, a slender, graceful, hateful +figure, with the inevitable cigarette in his unsteady +fingers--the expensive-looking, gold-tipped cigarette of +the old days. Peter was Peter. Ten years had made +little difference. There were queer little hollow places +in his cheeks, and under the jaw-bone, and at the base of +the head, and a flabby, parchment-like appearance about +the skin. That was all that made him different from the +Peter of the old days. + +The thing had adjusted itself, as Norah had said it +would. The situation that had filled me with loathing +and terror the night of Peter's return had been +transformed into quite a matter-of-fact and commonplace +affair under Norah's deft management. And now I was back +in harness again, and Peter was turning out brilliant +political stuff at spasmodic intervals. He was not +capable of any sustained effort. He never would be +again; that was plain. He was growing restless and +dissatisfied. He spoke of New York as though it were +Valhalla. He said that he hadn't seen a pretty girl +since he left Forty-second street. He laughed at +Milwaukee's quaint German atmosphere. He sneered at our +journalistic methods, and called the newspapers "country +sheets," and was forever talking of the World, and the +Herald, and the Sun, until the men at the Press Club +fought shy of him. Norah had found quiet and comfortable +quarters for Peter in a boarding-house near the lake, and +just a square or two distant from my own boarding-house. +He hated it cordially, as only the luxury-loving can hate +a boarding-house, and threatened to leave daily. + +"Let's go back to the big town, Dawn, old girl," he +would say. "We're buried alive in this overgrown Dutch +village. I came here in the first place on your account. +Now it's up to you to get me out of it. Think of what New +York means! Think of what I've been! And I can write as +well as ever." + +But I always shook my head. "We would not last a +month in New York, Peter. New York has hurried on and +left us behind. We're just two pieces of discard. We'll +have to be content where we are." + +"Content! In this silly hole! You must be mad!" +Then, with one of his unaccountable changes of tone and +topic, "Dawn, let me have some money. I'm strapped. If +I had the time I'd get out some magazine stuff. Anything +to get a little extra coin. Tell me, how does that +little sport you call Blackie happen to have so much +ready cash? I've never yet struck him for a loan that he +hasn't obliged me. I think he's sweet on you, perhaps, +and thinks he's doing you a sort of second-hand favor." + +At times such as these all the old spirit that I had +thought dead within me would rise up in revolt against +this creature who was taking, from me my pride, my sense +of honor, my friends. I never saw Von Gerhard now. +Peter had refused outright to go to him for treatment, +saying that he wasn't going to be poisoned by any cursed +doctor, particularly not by one who had wanted to run away +with his wife before his very eyes. + +Sometimes I wondered how long this could go on. I +thought of the old days with the Nirlangers; of Alma +Pflugel's rose-encircled cottage; of Bennie; of the +Knapfs; of the good-natured, uncouth aborigines, and +their many kindnesses. I saw these dear people rarely +now. Frau Nirlanger's resignation to her unhappiness +only made me rebel more keenly against my own. + +If only Peter could become well and strong again, I +told myself, bitterly. If it were not for those blue +shadows under his eyes, and the shrunken muscles, and the +withered skin, I could leave him to live his life as he +saw fit. But he was as dependent as a child, and as +capricious. What was the end to be? I asked myself. +Where was it all leading me? + +And then, in a fearful and wonderful manner, my +question was answered. + +There came to my desk one day an envelope bearing the +letter-head of the publishing house to which I had sent +my story. I balanced it for a moment in my fingers, +woman-fashion, wondering, hoping, surmising. + +"Of course they can't want it," I told myself, in +preparation for any disappointment that was in store for +me. "They're sending it back. This is the letter that +will tell me so." + +And then I opened it. The words jumped out at me +from the typewritten page. I crushed the paper in my +hands, and rushed into Blackie's little office as I had +been used to doing in the old days. He was at his desk, +pipe in mouth. I shook his shoulder and flourished the +letter wildly, and did a crazy little dance about his +chair. + +"They want it! They like it! Not only that, they +want another, as soon as I can get it out. Think of it!" + +Blackie removed his pipe from between his teeth and +wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "I'm +thinkin'," he said. "Anything t' oblige you. When +you're through shovin' that paper into my face would you +mind explainin' who wants what?" + +"Oh, you're so stupid! So slow! Can't you see that +I've written a real live book, and had it accepted, and +that I am going to write another if I have to run away +from a whole regiment of husbands to do it properly? +Blackie, can't you see what it means! Oh, Blackie, I +know I'm maudlin in my joy, but forgive me. It's been so +long since I've had the taste of it." + +"Well, take a good chew while you got th'chance an' +don't count too high on this first book +business. I knew a guy who wrote a book once, an' he +planned to take a trip to Europe on it, and build a house +when he got home, and maybe a yacht or so, if he wasn't +too rushed. Sa-a-ay, girl, w'en he got through gettin' +those royalties for that book they'd dwindled down to +fresh wall paper for the dinin'-room, and a new gas stove +for his wife, an' not enough left over to take a trolley +trip to Oshkosh on. Don't count too high." + +"I'm not counting at all, Blackie, and you can't +discourage me." + +"Don't want to. But I'd hate to see you come down +with a thud." Suddenly he sat up and a grin overspread +his thin face. "Tell you what we'll do, girlie. We'll +celebrate. Maybe it'll be the last time. Let's pretend +this is six months ago, and everything's serene. You get +your bonnet. I'll get the machine. It's too hot to +work, anyway. We'll take a spin out to somewhere that's +cool, and we'll order cold things to eat, and cold things +to drink, and you can talk about yourself till you're +tired. You'll have to take it out on somebody, an' it +might as well be me." + +Five minutes later, with my hat in my hand, I turned +to find Peter at my elbow. + +"Want to talk to you," he said, frowning. + +"Sorry, Peter, but I can't stop. Won't it do later?" + +"No. Got an assignment? I'll go with you." + +"N-not exactly, Peter. The truth is, Blackie has +taken pity on me and has promised to take me out for a +spin, just to cool off. It has been so insufferably +hot." + +Peter turned away. "Count me in on that," he said, +over his shoulder. + +"But I can't, Peter," I cried. "It isn't my party. +And anyway--" + +Peter turned around, and there was an ugly glow in +his eyes and an ugly look on his face, and a little red +ridge that I had not noticed before seemed to burn itself +across his forehead. "And anyway, you don't want me, eh? +Well, I'm going. I'm not going to have my wife chasing +all over the country with strange men. Remember, you're +not the giddy grass widdy you used to be. You can take +me, or stay at home, understand?" + +His voice was high-pitched and quavering. Something +in his manner struck a vague terror to my heart. "Why, +Peter, if you care that much I shall be glad to have you +go. So will Blackie, I am sure. Come, we'll go down +now. He'll be waiting for us." + +Blackie's keen, clever mind grasped the situation as +soon as he saw us together. His dark face was illumined +by one of his rare smiles. "Coming with us, Orme? Do +you good. Pile into the tonneau, you two, and hang on to +your hair. I'm going to smash the law." + +Peter sauntered up to the steering-wheel. "Let me +drive," he said. "I'm not bad at it." + +"Nix with the artless amateur," returned Blackie. +"This ain't no demonstration car. I drive my own little +wagon when I go riding, and I intend to until I take my +last ride, feet first." + +Peter muttered something surly and climbed into the +front seat next to Blackie, leaving me to occupy the +tonneau in solitary state. + +Peter began to ask questions--dozens of them, which +Blackie answered, patiently and fully. I could not hear +all that they said, but I saw that Peter was urging +Blackie to greater speed, and that Blackie was explaining +that he must first leave the crowded streets behind. +Suddenly Peter made a gesture in the direction of the +wheel, and said something in a high, sharp voice. +Blackie's answer was quick and decidedly in the negative. +The next instant Peter Orme rose in his place and leaning +forward and upward, grasped the wheel that was +in Blackie's hands. The car swerved sickeningly. I +noticed, dully, that Blackie did not go white as +novelists say men do in moments of horror. A dull red +flush crept to the very base of his neck. With a twist +of his frail body he tried to throw off Peter's hands. +I remember leaning over the back of the seat and trying +to pull Peter back as I realized that it was a madman +with whom we were dealing. Nothing seemed real. It was +ridiculously like the things one sees in the moving +picture theaters. I felt no fear. + +"Sit down, Orme!" Blackie yelled. "You'll ditch us! +Dawn! God!--" + +We shot down a little hill. Two wheels were lifted +from the ground. The machine was poised in the air for +a second before it crashed into the ditch and turned over +completely, throwing me clear, but burying Blackie and +Peter under its weight of steel and wood and whirring +wheels. + +I remember rising from the ground, and sinking back +again and rising once more to run forward to where the +car lay in the ditch, and tugging at that great frame of +steel with crazy, futile fingers. Then I ran screaming +down the road toward a man who was tranquilly working in +a field nearby. + + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +BLACKIE'S VACATION COMES + +The shabby blue office coat hangs on the hook in the +little sporting room where Blackie placed it. No one +dreams of moving it. There it dangles, out at elbows, +disreputable, its pockets burned from many a hot pipe +thrust carelessly into them, its cuffs frayed, its lapels +bearing the marks of cigarette, paste-pot and pen. + +It is that faded old garment, more than anything +else, which makes us fail to realize that its owner will +never again slip into its comfortable folds. We cannot +believe that a lifeless rag like that can triumph over +the man of flesh and blood and nerves and sympathies. +With what contempt do we look upon those garments during +our lifetime! And how they live on, defying time, long, +long after we have been gathered to our last rest. + +In some miraculous manner Blackie had lived on for +two days after that ghastly ride. Peter had been killed +instantly, the doctors said. They gave no hope for +Blackie. My escape with but a few ridiculous bruises +and scratches was due, they said, to the fact that I had +sat in the tonneau. I heard them all, in a stupor of +horror and grief, and wondered what +plan Fate had in store for me, that I alone should have +been spared. Norah and Max came, and took things in +charge, and I saw Von Gerhard, but all three appeared dim +and shadowy, like figures in a mist. When I closed my +eyes I could see Peter's tense figure bending over +Blackie at the wheel, and heard his labored breathing as +he struggled in his mad fury, and felt again the helpless +horror that had come to me as we swerved off the road and +into the ditch below, with Blackie, rigid and desperate, +still clinging to the wheel. I lived it all over and +over in my mind. In the midst of the blackness I heard +a sentence that cleared the fog from my mind, and caused +me to raise myself from my pillows. + +Some one--Norah, I think--had said that Blackie was +conscious, and that he was asking for some of the men at +the office, and for me. For me! I rose and dressed, in +spite of Norah's protests. I was quite well, I told +them. I must see him. I shook them off with trembling +fingers and when they saw that I was quite determined +they gave in, and Von Gerhard telephoned to the hospital +to learn the hour at which I might meet +the others who were to see Blackie for a brief moment. + +I met them in the stiff little waiting room of he +hospital--Norberg, Deming, Schmidt, Holt--men who had +known him from the time when they had yelled, "Heh, boy!" +at him when they wanted their pencils sharpened. +Awkwardly we followed the fleet-footed nurse who glided +ahead of us down the wide hospital corridors, past +doorways through which we caught glimpses of white beds +that were no whiter than the faces that lay on the +pillows. We came at last into a very still and bright +little room where Blackie lay. + +Had years passed over his head since I saw him last? +The face that tried to smile at us from the pillow was +strangely wizened and old. It was as though a withering +blight had touched it. Only the eyes were the same. +They glowed in the sunken face, beneath the shock of +black hair, with a startling luster and brilliancy. + +I do not know what pain he suffered. I do not know +what magic medicine gave him the strength to smile at us, +dying as he was even then. + +"Well, what do you know about little Paul Dombey?" he +piped in a high, thin voice. The shock of relief was too +much. We giggled hysterically, then stopped short and +looked at each other, like scared and naughty children. + +"Sa-a-ay, boys and girls, cut out the heavy thinking +parts. Don't make me do all the social stunts. What's +the news? What kind of a rotten cotton sportin' sheet is +that dub Callahan gettin' out? Who won to-day--Cubs or +Pirates? Norberg, you goat, who pinned that purple tie +on you?" + +He was so like the Blackie we had always known that +we were at our ease immediately. The sun shone in at the +window, and some one laughed a little laugh somewhere +down the corridor, and Deming, who is Irish, plunged into +a droll description of a brand-new office boy who had +arrived that day. + +"S'elp me, Black, the kid wears spectacles and a +Norfolk suit, and low-cut shoes with bows on 'em. On the +square he does. Looks like one of those Boston infants +you see in the comic papers. I don't believe he's real. +We're saving him until you get back, if the kids in the +alley don't chew him up before that time." + +An almost imperceptible shade passed over Blackie's +face. He closed his eyes for a moment. Without their +light his countenance was ashen, and awful. + +A nurse in stripes and cap appeared in the doorway. +She looked keenly at the little figure in the bed. Then +she turned to us. + +"You must go now," she said. "You were just to see +him for a minute or two, you know." + +Blackie summoned the wan ghost of a smile to his +lips. "Guess you guys ain't got th' stimulatin' effect +that a bunch of live wires ought to have. Say, Norberg, +tell that fathead, Callahan, if he don't keep the third +drawer t' the right in my desk locked, th' office kids'll +swipe all the roller rink passes surest thing you know." + +"I'll--tell him, Black," stammered Norberg, and +turned away. + +They said good-by, awkwardly enough. Not one of them +that did not owe him an unpayable debt of gratitude. Not +one that had not the memory of some secret kindness +stored away in his heart. It was Blackie who had +furnished the money that had sent Deming's sick wife +west. It had been Blackie who had rescued Schmidt time +and again when drink got a strangle-hold. Blackie had +always said: "Fire Schmidt! Not much! Why, Schmidt +writes better stuff drunk than all the rest of the +bunch sober." And Schmidt would be granted another +reprieve by the Powers that Were. + +Suddenly Blackie beckoned the nurse in the doorway. +She came swiftly and bent over him. + +"Gimme two minutes more, that's a good nursie. +There's something I want to say t' this dame. It's de +rigger t' hand out last messages, ain't it?" + +The nurse looked at me, doubtfully. "But you're not +to excite yourself." + +"Sa-a-ay, girl, this ain't goin' t' be no scene from +East Lynne. Be a good kid. The rest of the bunch can +go." + +And so, when the others had gone, I found myself +seated at the side of his bed, trying to smile down at +him. I knew that there must be nothing to excite him. +But the words on my lips would come. + +"Blackie," I said, and I struggled to keep my voice +calm and emotionless, "Blackie, forgive me. It is all my +fault--my wretched fault." + +"Now, cut that," interrupted Blackie. "I thought +that was your game. That's why I said I wanted t' talk +t' you. Now, listen. Remember my tellin' you, a few +weeks ago, 'bout that vacation I was plannin'? This is +it, only it's come sooner than I expected, that's all. +I seen two three doctor guys about it. Your friend Von +Gerhard was one of 'em. They didn't tell me t' take no +ocean trip this time. Between 'em, they decided my +vacation would come along about November, maybe. Well, +I beat 'em to it, that's all. Sa-a-ay, girl, I ain't +kickin'. You can't live on your nerves and expect t' +keep goin'. Sooner or later you'll be suein' those same +nerves for non-support. But, kid, ain't it a shame that +I got to go out in a auto smashup, in these days when +even a airship exit don't make a splash on the front +page!" + +The nervous brown hand was moving restlessly over the +covers. Finally it met my hand, and held it in a tense +little grip. + +"We've been good pals, you and me, ain't we, kid?" + +"Yes, Blackie." + +"Ain't regretted it none?" + +"Regretted it! I am a finer, truer, better woman for +having known you, Blackie." + +He gave a little contented sigh at that, and his eyes +closed. When he opened them the old, whimsical smile +wrinkled his face. + +"This is where I get off at. It ain't been no long +trip, but sa-a-ay, girl, I've enjoyed every mile of the +road. All kinds of scenery--all kinds of +lan'scape--plain--fancy--uphill--downhill--" + +I leaned forward, fearfully. + +"Not--yet," whispered Blackie. Say Dawn--in the +story books--they--always--are strong on the--good-by +kiss, what?" + +And as the nurse appeared in the doorway again, +disapproval on her face, I stooped and gently pressed my +lips to the pain-lined cheek. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +HAPPINESS + +We laid Peter to rest in that noisy, careless, busy city +that he had loved so well, and I think his cynical lips +would have curled in a bitterly amused smile, and his +somber eyes would have flamed into sudden wrath if he +could have seen how utterly and completely New York had +forgotten Peter Orme. He had been buried alive ten years +before--and Newspaper Row has no faith in resurrections. +Peter Orme was not even a memory. Ten years is an age in +a city where epochs are counted by hours. + +Now, after two weeks of Norah's loving care, I was +back in the pretty little city by the lake. I had come +to say farewell to all those who had filled my life so +completely in that year. My days of newspaper work were +over. The autumn and winter would be spent at Norah's, +occupied with hours of delightful, congenial work, for +the second book was to be written in the quiet peace of +my own little Michigan town. Von Gerhard was to take his +deferred trip to Vienna in the spring, and I knew that I +was to go with him. The thought filled my heart with a +great flood of happiness. + +Together Von Gerhard and I had visited Alma Pflugel's +cottage, and the garden was blooming in all its wonder of +color and scent as we opened the little gate and walked +up the worn path. We found them in the cool shade of the +arbor, the two women sewing, Bennie playing with the last +wonderful toy that Blackie had given him. They made a +serene and beautiful picture there against the green +canopy of the leaves. We spoke of Frau Nirlanger, and of +Blackie, and of the strange snarl of events which had at +last been unwound to knit a close friendship between us. +And when I had kissed them and walked for the last time +in many months up the flower-bordered path, the scarlet +and pink, and green and gold of that wonderful garden +swam in a mist before my eyes. + +Frau Nirlanger was next. When we spoke of Vienna she +caught her breath sharply. + +"Vienna!" she repeated, and the longing in her voice +was an actual pain. "Vienna! Gott! Shall I ever see +it again? Vienna! My boy is there. Perhaps--" + +"Perhaps," I said, gently. "Stranger things +have happened. Perhaps if I could see them, and talk to +them--if I could tell them--they might be made to +understand. I haven't been a newspaper reporter all +these years without acquiring a golden gift of +persuasiveness. Perhaps--who knows?--we may meet again +in Vienna. Stranger things have happened." + +Frau Nirlanger shook her head with a little hopeless +sigh. "You do not know Vienna; you do not know the iron +strength of caste, and custom and stiff-necked pride. I +am dead in Vienna. And the dead should rest in peace." + +It was late in the afternoon when Von Gerhard and I +turned the corner which led to the building that held the +Post. I had saved that for the last. + +"I hope that heaven is not a place of golden streets, +and twanging harps and angel choruses," I said, softly. +"Little, nervous, slangy, restless Blackie, how bored and +ill at ease he would be in such a heaven! How lonely, +without his old black pipe, and his checked waistcoats, +and his diamonds, and his sporting extra. Oh, I hope +they have all those comforting, everyday things up there, +for Blackie's sake." + +"How you grew to understand him in that short year," +mused Von Gerhard. "I sometimes used to resent the bond +between you and this little Blackie whose name was always +on your tongue." + +"Ah, that was because you did not comprehend. It is +given to very few women to know the beauty of a man's +real friendship. That was the bond between Blackie and +me. To me he was a comrade, and to him I was a +good-fellow girl--one to whom he could talk without +excusing his pipe or cigarette. Love and love-making +were things to bring a kindly, amused chuckle from +Blackie." + +Von Gerhard was silent. Something in his silence +held a vague irritation for me. I extracted a penny from +my purse, and placed it in his hand. + +"I was thinking," he said, "that none are so blind as +those who will not see." + +"I don't understand," I said, puzzled. + +"That is well," answered Von Gerhard, as we entered +the building. "That is as it should be." And he would +say nothing more. + +The last edition of the paper had been run off for +the day. I had purposely waited until the footfalls of +the last departing reporter should have ceased to echo +down the long corridor. The city room was deserted +except for one figure bent over a pile of papers and +proofs. Norberg, the city editor, was the last to leave, +as always. His desk light glowed in the darkness of the +big room, and his typewriter alone awoke the echoes. + +As I stood in the doorway he peered up from beneath +his green eye-shade, and waved a cloud of smoke away with +the palm of his hand. + +"That you, Mrs. Orme?" he called out. "Lord, we've +missed you! That new woman can't write an obituary, and +her teary tales sound like they were carved with a cold +chisel. When are you coming back?" + +"I'm not coming back," I replied. "I've come to say +good-by to you and--Blackie." + +Norberg looked up quickly. "You feel that way, too? +Funny. So do the rest of us. Sometimes I think we are +all half sure that it is only another of his impish +tricks, and that some morning he will pop open the door +of the city room here and call out, `Hello, slaves! Been +keepin' m' memory green?'" + +I held out my hand to him, gratefully. He took it in +his great palm, and a smile dimpled his plump cheeks. +"Going to blossom into a regular little writer, h'm? +Well, they say it's a paying game when you get the hang +of it. And I guess you've got it. But if ever you feel +that you want a real thrill--a touch of the old +satisfying newspaper feeling--a sniff of wet ink--the +music of some editorial cussing--why come up here and I'll +give you the hottest assignment on my list, if I have to +take it away from Deming's very notebook." + +When I had thanked him I crossed the hall and tried +the door of the sporting editor's room. Von Gerhard was +waiting for me far down at the other end of the corridor. +The door opened and I softly entered and shut it again. +The little room was dim, but in the half-light I could +see that Callahan had changed something--had shoved a +desk nearer the window, or swung the typewriter over to +the other side. I resented it. I glanced up at the +corner where the shabby old office coat had been wont to +hang. There it dangled, untouched, just as he had left +it. Callahan had not dared to change that. I tip-toed +over to the corner and touched it gently with my fingers. +A light pall of dust had settled over the worn little +garment, but I knew each worn place, each ink-spot, each +scorch or burn from pipe or cigarette. I passed my hands +over it reverently and gently, and then, in the dimness +of that quiet little room I laid my cheek against the +rough cloth, so that the scent of the old black pipe came +back to me once more, and a new spot appeared on the coat +sleeve--a damp, salt spot. Blackie would have hated my +doing that. But he was not there to +see, and one spot more or less did not matter; it was +such a grimy, disreputable old coat. + +"Dawn!" called Von Gerhard softly, outside the door. +"Dawn! Coming, Kindchen?" + +I gave the little coat a parting pat. "Goodby," I +whispered, under my breath, and turned toward the door. + +"Coming!" I called, aloud. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Dawn O'Hara, The Girl Who Laughed + |