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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22804-8.txt b/22804-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf7e08c --- /dev/null +++ b/22804-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8157 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Apron-Strings, by Eleanor Gates + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Apron-Strings + + +Author: Eleanor Gates + + + +Release Date: September 29, 2007 [eBook #22804] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK APRON-STRINGS*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +APRON-STRINGS + +by + +ELEANOR GATES + +Author of +The Poor Little Rich Girl, Etc. + + _A story for all mothers who have daughters + and for all daughters who have mothers_ + + + + + + + +New York +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers + +Copyright, 1917, by +Sully and Kleinteich +All rights reserved + +First edition, October, 1917 +Second edition, October, 1917 + + + + +DEAR ANN WILDE,-- + +It seems to me that there are, broadly speaking, three kinds of +mothers. First, there is the kind that does not plan for, or want, a +child, but, having borne one, invariably takes the high air of +martyrdom, feeling that she has rendered the supreme service, and that, +henceforth, nothing is too good for her. Second, there is the mother +who loves her own children devotedly, and has as many as her health and +the family purse will permit, but who is fairly indifferent to other +women's children. Last of all, there is the mother who loves anybody's +children--everybody's children. Where the first kind of mother finds +"young ones" a bother, and the second revels in a contrast of her +darlings with her neighbors' little people (to the disparagement of the +latter), the third never fails to see a baby if there is a baby around, +never fails to be touched by little woes or joys; belongs, perhaps, to +a child-study club, or helps to support a kindergarten, or gives as +freely as possible to some orphanage. And often such a woman, finding +herself childless, and stirred to her action by a voice that is +Nature's, ordering her to fulfill her woman's destiny, makes choice +from among those countless little ones who are unclaimed; and if she +happens not to be married, nevertheless, like a mateless bird, she sets +lovingly about the building of a home nest. + +This last kind is the best of all mothers. Not only is the fruit of +her body precious to her, but all child-life is precious. She is the +super-mother: She is the woman with the universal mother-heart. + +You, the "Auntie-Mother" to two lucky little girls, are of this type +which I so honor. And that is why I dedicate to you this story--with +great affection, and with profound respect. + +Your friend, + ELEANOR GATES. + +New York, 1917. + + + + +APRON-STRINGS + + +CHAPTER I + +"I tell you, there's something funny about it, Steve,--having the wedding +out on that scrap of lawn." It was the florist who was speaking. He was +a little man, with a brown beard that lent him a professional air. He +gave a jerk of the head toward the high bay-window of the Rectory +drawing-room, set down his basket of smilax on the well-cared-for +Brussels that, after a disappearing fashion, carpeted the drawing-room +floor, and proceeded to select and cut off the end of a cigar. + +"Something wrong," assented Steve. He found and filled a pipe. + +The other now dropped his voice to a whisper. "'Mrs. Milo,' I says to +the old lady, 'give me the Church to decorate and I'll make it look like +something.' 'My good man,' she come back,--you know the way she +talks--'the wedding will be in the Close.'" + +"A stylish name for not much of anything," observed Steve. "The Close! +Why not call it a yard and be done with it?" + +"English," explained the florist. "--Well, I pointed out that _this_ +room would be a good place for the ceremony. I could hang the +wedding-bell right in the bay-window. But at that, _click_ come the old +lady's teeth together. 'The wedding will be in the Close,' she says +again, and so I shut my mouth." + +"Temper." + +"Exactly. And why? What's the matter with the Church? and what's the +matter with this room?--that they have to go outdoors to marry up the +poor youngsters. What's worse, that Close hasn't got the best +reputation. For there stands that orphan basket, in plain sight----" + +"It's _no_ place for a wedding!" + +"Of course not!--a yard where of a night poor things come sneaking in----" + +A door at the far end of the long room had opened softly. Now a voice, +gentle, well-modulated, and sorrowfully reproving, halted the protesting +of the florist, and paralyzed his upraised finger. "That will do," said +the voice. + +What had frozen the gesture of his employer only accelerated the +movements of Steve. Recollecting that he was in his shirt-sleeves, he +snatched the pipe from his mouth, seized upon the smilax basket, and +sidled swiftly through the door leading to the Close. + +"Goo--good-morning, Mrs. Milo," stammered the florist, putting his cigar +behind his back with one large motion that included a bow. +"Good-afternoon. I've just brought the festoons for the wedding-bower." +Once more he jerked his head in the direction of the bay-window, and +edged his way toward it a step or two, his fluttering eyelids belieing +the smile that divided his beard. + +Mrs. Milo, her background the heavy oak door that led to the library, +made a charming figure as she looked down the room at him. She was a +slender, active woman, who carried her seventy years with grace. Her +hair was a silvery white, and so abundant that it often gave rise to +justified doubt; now it was dressed with elaborate care. Her eyes were a +bright--almost a metallic--blue. Despite her age, her face was silkily +smooth, and as fair as a girl's, having none of those sallow spots which +so frequently mar the complexions of the old. Her cheeks showed a faint +color. Her nose was perhaps too thin, but it was straight and finely +cut. Her mouth was small, pretty, and curved by an almost constant +smile. Her hands were slender, soft, and young. They were not given to +quick movements. Now they hung touching the blue-gray of her +morning-dress, which, with ruffles of lace at collar and wrists, had the +fresh smartness of a uniform. + +"You are smoking?" she inquired. That habitual smile was on her lips, +but her eyes were cold. + +"Just--just a dry smoke,"--with a note of injured innocence. + +"Your cigar is in your mouth," she persisted, "and yet you're not +smoking." + +At that, the florist took a forward step. "And my teeth are in my +mouth," he answered boldly, "but I'm not eating." + +Another woman might have shrunk from the impudence of his retort, or +replied angrily. Mrs. Milo only advanced, with slow elegance, prepared +again to put him on the defensive. "Why do I find you in this room?" she +demanded. + +"I'm just passing through--to the lawn." + +"Do not pass through again." + +"Well, I'd like to know about that," returned the florist, +argumentatively. "When I mentioned passing through the Church, why, the +Rector, he says to me----" + +Mrs. Milo lifted a white hand to check him. "Never mind what Mr. Farvel +said," she admonished sharply; then, with quick gentleness, "You know +that he has lived here only little more than a year." + +"Oh, I know." + +"And I have lived here fifteen years." + +"True," assented the florist. "But I was talking with Miss Susan about +passing through the Church, and Miss Susan----" + +The blue eyes flashed. And once more Mrs. Milo advanced. "Never mind +what my daughter told you," she commanded, but without raising her voice. +"I am compelled to make this Rectory my home because Miss Milo does the +secretarial work of the parish. And what kind of a home should I have if +I allowed the place to be in continual disorder?" + +There was a pause, the two facing each other. Then the look of the +florist fell. "I'll go in by way of the Church, madam," he announced. +And turned away with a stiff bow. + +"One moment." The order was curt; but as he brought up, and turned about +once more, Mrs. Milo spoke almost confidentially. "As you very well +know," she reminded, her face slightly averted, "there is a third +entrance to the Close." + +The florist saw his opportunity. "Oh, yes," he declared; "--the little +white door where the ladies come of a night to leave their orphans." + +That brought Mrs. Milo about. And the color deepened in her cheeks. It +was the red, not only of anger, but of modesty. "The women who desert +their infants in that basket," she replied (again that sorrowful +intonation), "are not ladies." + +The florist was highly pleased with results. "That may be so," he went +on, with renewed boldness; "but for my ladders, and my plants, the little +white door is too small, and so----" He stopped short. His jaw dropped. +His eyes widened, and fixed themselves in undisguised admiration upon a +young woman who had entered the room behind Mrs. Milo--a lankish, but +graceful young woman, radiant in a gown of shimmering satin, her fair +hair haloed by carefully carried lengths of misty tulle. "And so," +resumed the florist, absent-mindedly, "and so--and so----" + +Mrs. Milo moved across the carpet to a sofa, adjusted a velvet cushion, +and seated herself. "Go and do your work," she said sharply. "It must +be finished this afternoon. And remember: I don't want to see you in +this room again." + +"Very well, madam." With a smile and a bow, neither of which was +intended for Mrs. Milo, the florist recovered his self-possession, threw +wide his hands in a gesture that was an eloquent tribute to the shining +apparition at the farther end of the room, and backed out. + +"Ha-a-a!" sighed Mrs. Milo--with gratification in her triumph over the +decorator, and with a sense of comfort in that cushioned corner of her +favorite sofa. She settled her slender shoulders against the velvet. + +Now the satin gown crossed the carpet, and its wearer let fall the +veiling which she had upborne on her outstretched arms. "Mrs. Milo," she +began. + +"Oh!" Mrs. Milo straightened, but without turning, and the fear that the +other had heard her curt dismissal of the florist showed in the quick +shifting of her look. When she spoke again, her voice was all +gentleness. "Yes, my dear new daughter?" she inquired. + +Hattie Balcome cocked her head to one side, extended a satin-clad foot, +threw out her hands with fingers extended, and struck a grotesque pose. +"Turn--and behold!" she bade sepulchrally. + +Mrs. Milo turned. "A-a-a-ah!" Then having given the wedding-gown a +brief scrutiny, "Er--yes--hm! It's quite pretty." + +"Quite pretty!" repeated Hattie. She revolved once, slowly. "What's the +matter with it?" + +"We-e-e-ell," began Mrs. Milo, appraising the gown at more length; "isn't +it rather simple, my dear,--for a girl whose father is as wealthy as +yours? Somehow I expected at least a little real lace." + +Hattie laughed. "What on earth could I do with real lace in the +mountains of Peru?" + +"Peru!" Instantly Mrs. Milo's face grew long. "Then--then my son has +finally decided to accept the position in Peru." Now she took her +underlip in her teeth; and her lashes fluttered as if to keep back tears. + +"But you won't miss him terribly, will you? As it is you don't have +him--you don't see such a lot of him." + +"Of course, as you say, I don't have him--except for a couple of weeks in +the summer, when Sue has her vacation, and we all go to the Catskills. +Then at Christmastime he comes here for a week. Sue has never asked +permission to have Wallace live at the Rectory----" + +"Except of Mr. Farvel." + +"Mr. Farvel didn't have to be asked. He and Wallace are old friends. +They met years ago--once when Wallace went to Canada with a boy chum. +And Canada's the farthest he's ever been, so----" + +"It was I who decided on Peru," said the girl, almost defiantly. "The +very day he proposed to me he told me about the big silver mine down +there that wants a young engineer. And I said Yes on one condition: that +Wallace would take me as far away from home as possible." + +The elder woman rose, finger on lip. "Sh!" she cautioned, glancing +toward the door left open by the florist. "Oh, we don't want any gossip, +Hattie!" + +Hattie lifted her eyebrows. "We don't want it," she agreed, "but we +shall get it. They'll all be asking one another, 'Why not the Church? or +the drawing-room? Why the yard?'" She nodded portentously. + +Mrs. Milo came nearer. "They'll never suspect," she promised. "Outdoor +weddings are very fashionable." + +"Maybe. But what I can't understand is this: Dad's heart is set on this +marriage. He wants to get me out of the way." Then as Mrs. Milo's +expression changed from a gratified beam to a stare of horror, "Oh, don't +be shocked; he has his good reasons. But as I'm going, why can't he make +a few concessions, instead of trying to spoil the wedding?" + +"Spoil, dear?" chided the elder woman. "The wedding will be beautiful in +the Close." + +Hattie's brown eyes swam with sudden tears. "Perhaps," she answered. +"But just for this one time, why can't my father and mother----" + +"Please, Hattie!" pleaded Mrs. Milo. "We must be discreet!" Then to +change the subject, "My dear, let me see the back." + +Once more Hattie revolved accommodatingly. Close to the door leading to +the lawn was a door which led, by a short passage, to the little, old +Gothic church which, long planted on its generous allowance of grounds, +had defied--along with an Orphanage that was all but a part of the +Church, so near did the two buildings stand--the encroachment of new, +tall, office structures. As Hattie turned about, she kept her watch on +the door leading to the Church. + +"It's really very sweet," condescended Mrs. Milo. "But--you mustn't let +Wallace get a glimpse of this dress before tomorrow." She shook a +playful finger. "That would be bad luck. Now,--what does Susan think of +it?" She seated herself to receive the verdict. + +Hattie wagged her head in mock despair. "Oh," she complained, "how I've +tried to find out!" + +All Mrs. Milo's playfulness went. She stood up, her manner suddenly +anxious. "Isn't she upstairs?" she asked. + +One solemn finger was pointed ceilingward. "I have even paged the attic!" + +Mrs. Milo hastened across the room. "Why, she must be upstairs," she +cried. "I sent her up not an hour ago." + +"Well, the villain has just naturally come down." + +"Susan! Susan!"--Mrs. Milo was calling into the hall leading to the +upper floors of the Rectory. "Look in the vestibule, Hattie." + +"Perhaps she has escaped to the Orphanage." Hattie gave a teasing laugh +over her shoulder as she moved to obey. + +Mrs. Milo had abandoned the hall door by now, and was fluttering toward +the library. "Orphanage?" she repeated. "Oh, not without consulting me. +And besides there's so much to be done in this house before +tomorrow.--Susan! Susan!" She went out, calling more impatiently. + +As Hattie disappeared into the vestibule, that door from the passage, +upon which she had kept a watch, was opened, slowly and cautiously, and +the tousled head of a boy was thrust in. Seeing that the drawing-room +was vacant, the boy now threw the door wide, disclosing nine other small +heads, but nine more carefully combed. The ten were packed in the narrow +passage, and did not move forward with the opening of the door. Their +freshly washed faces were eager; but they contented themselves with +rising on tiptoe to peer into the room. About them, worn over black +cassocks, hung their spotless cottas. Choir boys they were, but on every +small countenance was written the indefinable mark of the orphan-reared. + +Now he of the tousled hair stole forward across the sill. And boldly +signaled the others. "St!--Aw, come on!" he cried. "What're you 'fraid +of! Didn't the new minister tell us to wait in here?" + +The choir obeyed him, but without argument. As each cotta-clad figure +advanced, eyes were directed toward doors, and hands mutely signed what +tongues feared to utter. One boy came to the sofa and gingerly smoothed +a velvet pillow; whispering and pointing, the others scattered--to look +up at a painting of a bishop of the Anglican Church, which hung above the +mantel, to open the Bible on the small mahogany table that held the +center of the room, to touch the grand piano with moist and marking +finger-tips, and to gaze with awe upon two huge and branching +candlesticks that flanked a marble clock above the hearth. + +Now a husky whisper broke the unwonted silence of the choir; and an +excited, finger directed all eyes to the painting of the Bishop: "Oh, +fellers! Fellers!" He rallied his companions with his other arm. +"Look-ee! Look-ee! That's Momsey's father!" + +"Momsey's father!" It was the tousled chorister, and he plowed his way +forward through the gathering choir before the hearth. "What're you +talkin' about? Momsey's father wasn't a minister." + +But the other was not to be gainsaid. "Yes, he was," he persisted; "and +it's him." + +"Aw, that's a Bishop,--or somethin'. There's Momsey's father." Beside +the library door stood a small writing-desk. Atop it, in a wooden frame, +was a photograph. This was now caught up, and went from hand to hand +among the crowding boys. "That's him, and he's been dead twenty years." + +"Let me see!" A shining tow-head wriggled up from under the arms of +taller boys, and a freckled hand captured the picture. "Why, he looks +like Momsey!" + +The tousled songster seized the photograph in righteous anger. "Sure!" +he cried, waving it in the face of the tow-headed boy; "you don't think +she takes after her mother, do y'?" + +A chorus of protests, all aimed at the tow-head, which was turned +defensively from side to side. + +"Y' know what _I_ think?" demanded the tousled one. He motioned the +others to gather round. "I don't believe the old lady is Momsey's mother +at a-a-all!" + +"Oo-oo-oo!" The choir gasped and stared. + +"No, I don't," persisted the boy. "I believe that years, and years, and +years ago, some nice, poor lady come cree-ee-eepin' through the little +white door, and left Momsey--in the basket!" + +Nine small countenances beamed with delight. "You're right!" the choir +clamored. "You're right! You're dead right!" White sleeves were waved +joyously aloft. + +Now the heavy door to the library began to swing against the backs of two +or three. The choir did not wait to see who was entering. Smiles +vanished. Eyes grew frightened. Like one, the boys wheeled and fled. +The door into the passage stood wide. They crowded through it, and +halted only when the last cotta was across the sill. Then, like a flock +of scared quail, they faced about, panting, and ready for further flight. + +One look, and ten musical throats emitted as many unmusical shouts of +laughter. While the tousle-headed boy, swinging the photograph which he +had failed to restore to its place, again set foot upon the Brussels of +the drawing-room. "Oh! Oh!" he laughed. "Oh, golly, Dora, you scared +me!" + +With all the dignity of her sixteen years, and with all the authority of +one who has graduated from the ranks of an Orphanage to the higher, if +rarer, air of a Rector's residence, Dora surveyed with shocked +countenance the saucy visages of the ten. On occasions she could assume +a manner most impressive--a manner borrowed in part from a butler who had +been installed, at one time, by a wealthy and high-living incumbent of +St. Giles, and in part from ministers who had reigned there by turns and +whose delivery and outward manifestations of inward sanctity she had +carefully studied during the period of her own labor in the house. Now +with finger-tips together, and with the spirit of those half-dozen +ecclesiastics sounding in her nasal sing-song, she voiced her stern +reproof: + +"My dear brothers!" + +"Aw," scoffed a boy, "we ain't neither your brothers." + +"I am speaking in the broad sense," explained Dora, with the loftiness of +one who addresses a throng from a pulpit. Then shaking a finger, "'The +wicked flee when no man pursueth'--Proverbs, twenty-eighth chapter, and +first verse." + +"We're not wicked," denied the boy. "Mr. Farvel told us to come." + +"We're goin' to rehearse for the weddin'," chimed in the tow-headed one. + +Dora let her look travel from face to face, the while she shook her head +solemnly. "But," she reminded, "if Mrs. Milo finds you here, only a +miracle can save you!" + +"Aw, I'm not afraid of her,"--the uncombed chorister advanced bravely. +"She's only a boarder. And after this, I'm goin' to mind just Mr. +Farvel." + +Something like horrified pity lengthened the pale face of Dora. "Little +boys," she advised, "in these brief years since I left the Orphanage, +I've seen ministers come and ministers go. But Mrs. Milo"--she turned +away--"like the poor----" Her ministerial gesture was eloquent of +hopelessness. + +The boys in the passage stared at one another apprehensively. But their +leader was flushed with excitement and wrath. "Dora," he cried, hurrying +over to check her going, "do you know what I wish would happen?" + +She turned accusingly. "Oh, Bobbie! What a sinful thought!" + +"But I wasn't wishin' _that_!" + +"Drive it out of your heart!" she counseled, with all the passion of an +evangelist. "Drive it out of your heart! Remember: she can't live +forever. She ain't immortal. But let her stay her appointed +time,"--this last with the bowed head proper to the sentiment, so that +two short, tight braids stood ceilingward. + +The stifled exclamations of the waiting ten brought her head up once +more. From the vestibule, resplendent in shining satin and billows of +tulle, had appeared a vision. The choir gazed on it in open-mouthed +wonder. "Oh, look! The bride! Mm! Ain't it beautiful!" + +Hattie was equal to the occasion. Dropping all the tulle into place, she +walked from bay-window to table and back again, displaying her finery. +"Isn't it pretty?" she agreed. "See the veil. And look!" + +Head on one side, the ever-philosophical Dora watched her. And Hattie, +halting, turned once around for the benefit of all observers, but with an +inviting smile toward the girl, as to a sister-spirit who would be +certain to appreciate. + +Dora lifted gingham-clad shoulders in a weary shrug. "'Can a maid forget +her ornaments?'" she quoted; "'or a bride her attire?'" + +"Well, I like that!" cried Hattie. + +Quickly Dora extended a hand with a gesture unmistakably cleric. +"Jeremiah," she explained; "--second chapter, and thirty-second verse." + +But Hattie was not deceived. She rustled forward. "Yes!" she retorted. +"And Hattie Balcome, first chapter, and first verse, reads: 'Can a maid +forget her _manners_?'" + +Dora was suddenly all meekness. "If she forgets her duties," she +answered, "she shall flee from Mrs. Milo--and the wrath to come!" +Whereupon, with a bounce and a giggle, neither of which was in keeping +with her spoken fears, she went out, banging the library door. + +Hattie turned, and here was the choir at her back, engrossed in the +beauties of her apparel. She gave the little group a friendly nod and a +smile. "So you are the boys," she commented. + +Bobbie was quick to explain. "We're some of the boys," he said. +"There's about fifty more of us, and pretty near fifty girls, too, over +in the Orphanage." + +"But--aren't you all rather big to be left in a basket?" + +"Oh, not all of us are left in the basket." Bobbie shook his rumpled mop +with great finality. + +"No." It was a smaller boy. "Just the fellers that never had any +mothers or fathers." + +"Like me," piped a chorister from the rear. + +"And me," put in the tow-headed boy. + +Hattie looked them over carefully. "Which," she inquired, "is the one +that is borrowed from his aunt?" + +The group stirred. A murmur went from boy to boy. "Mm! Yes! That one! +Oh, him!" + +"That's Ikey Einstein," explained Bobbie. "And he's in the Church right +now. You see, he's borrowed on account of his won-der-ful voice. Momsey +says Ikey's got a song-bird in his throat." + +Once more the group stirred, murmuring its assent. It was the testimony +of a choir to its finest songster--a testimony strong with pride. + +At that same moment, sounding from beyond the heavy door that gave to the +Church, came a long-drawn howl of mingled rage and woe. "Wa-ah!"--it was +the voice of a boy; "oh, wa-a-a-ah!" + +Bobbie lifted a finger to point. "That," said he proudly, "is Ikey now." +He motioned the choir into the bay-window, and Hattie followed. + +The wails increased in volume. The door at the end of the passage swung +open; and into sight, amid loud boo-hoos, pressed a squirming trio. +There were two torn and dirty boys, their faces streaked with tears, +their hands vainly trying to grapple. And between the two, holding to +each by a handful of cassock, and by turns scolding and beseeching the +quarreling pair, came Sue Milo. + +Strangers saw Sue Milo as an attractive, middle-aged woman, tall, and +full-figured, whose face was expressive and inclined toward a high color, +whose shining brown hair was well grayed at the temples, and whose eyes, +blue-gray, and dark-lashed, were wide and kindly. + +Strangers marked her for a capable, dependable woman, too; and found +suited to her the adjective "motherly." This for the same reason which +moved new acquaintances instinctively to address her as "Mrs." For Sue +Milo, at forty-five, bore none of the marks of the so-called typical +spinster. + +But a curious change of attitude toward her was the experience of that +man or woman who came to know her even casually. Though at a first +meeting she seemed to be all of her age, with better acquaintance she +appeared to grow rapidly younger. So that it was not strange to hear her +referred to as "the Milo girl," and not infrequently she was included at +gatherings of people who were still in their twenties. In just what her +youthfulness lay it was hard to define. At times an expression of the +eye, a trick of straight-looking, or perhaps the lifting and turning of +the chin, or a quick bringing together of the hands,--all these were +girlish. There was that about her which made her seem as simple and +unaffected as a child. + +Yet capable and dependable she was--as any crisis at Rectory or Orphanage +had proven repeatedly. And when quick decisions were demanded, all +turned as if with one accord to Sue. And she was as quick to execute. +Or if that was beyond her power, she roused others to action. It was a +rector of St. Giles who once applied to her a description that was +singularly fitting: "She is," he said, "like a ship under full sail." + +Just now she was a ship in a storm. + +"Aw, you did said it!" cried the wailing Ikey, pointing at his adversary +a forefinger wrapped in a handkerchief. "You did! You did! I heard you +said it!" + +"I never! I never!" denied his opponent. "It ain't so! Boo-hoo!" + +Sue gave them an impartial shake. "That will do!" she declared, trying +hard to speak with force, while her eyes twinkled. "--Ikey, do you hear +me?--Put down that fist, Clarence!--Now, be still and listen to me!" +With another shake, she quieted them; whereupon, holding each at arm's +length, she surveyed them by turns. "Oh, my soul, such little heathen!" +she pronounced. "Now what do you think I am? A fight umpire? Do you +want to damage each other for life?" + +Clarence was all sniffles, and rubbed at the injured arm. But Ikey had +no mind to be blamed undeservedly. He squared about upon Sue with +flashing eye. "But, Momsey, he _did_ said it!" he repeated. + +Sue tightened her grip on his cassock. "And, oh, my soul, such grammar!" +she mourned. "'He did said it!' You mean, He do said--he do say--he +done--oh, now you've got _me_ twisted!" + +"Just de same, he called it to me," asserted Ikey. + +"I never, I tell you! I never!" + +"Ah! Ah!" Once more Sue struggled to hold them apart. "And what, Mr. +Ikey, did he call you?" + +"He calls me," cried the insulted Ikey, "--he calls me a pie-faces!--Ach!" + +"And what did you call him?" + +"I didn't call him not'ing!" answered Ikey, beginning to wail again at +the very thought of his failure to do himself justice; "not--von--t'ing!" + +"But"--with a wisdom born of long choir experience--"you must have said +something." + +"All I says," chanted Ikey, "--all I says is, 'You can't sing. What you +do is----'" And lowering and raising his head, he emitted a long, +lifelike bray. + +"Yah!" burst forth the enraged Clarence, struggling to clutch his hated +fellow. + +"Wa-a-a-ah!" wept Ikey, who had struck out and hurt his already injured +digit. "You donkey!--donkey!" + +Breathing hard, Sue managed to keep them apart; to bring them back to +their proper distance. "Look at them!" she said with fine sarcasm. "Oh, +look at Ikey Einstein!--Where's your handkerchief?" + +Weeping, he indicated it by a duck of the chin. + +At such a point of general melting, it was safe to release combatants. +Sue freed the two, and took from Ikey's pocket a square of cotton once +white, but now characteristically gray, and strangely heavy. "Here, put +up that poor face," she comforted. But at this unpropitious moment, the +handkerchief, clear of the pocket, sagged with its holdings and deposited +upon the carpet several yellowish, black-spotted cubes. "Dice!" +exclaimed Sue, horrified. "Dice!--Ikey Einstein, what do you call +yourself!" + +Pride stopped Ikey's tears. He thrust out his underlip and waved a hand +at the scattered cubes. "Momsey," he answered stoutly, "don't you know? +Why, ever since day before yesterdays, I am a t'ree-card-monte man!" + +"You're a three-card-what?" + +Unable longer to restrain their mirth, that portion of the choir that was +in the bay-window now whooped with delight. And Sue, turning, beheld ten +figures writhing with joy. + +"So!" she began severely. The ten sobered, and their cottas billowed in +a backward step. "So here you are!--where you have no business to be!" + +Bobbie, the spokesman, ventured to the rescue of his mates. "But, +Momsey----" + +"Now! No excuses! You all know that you do not come into this +drawing-room, to track up the carpet--look at your feet! And to pull +things about, like a lot of red Indians! And finger-print the mahogany! +And, oh, how disappointed I am in you! To disobey!" + +"But the minister----" piped up the tow-headed boy. + +"That's right!" she retorted sarcastically. "Blame it on Mr. Farvel! As +if you don't know the regulations!" + +"But this is Mr. Farvel's house," urged Bobbie. + +"A-a-ah!--Now that makes it worse! Now I know you've deliberately +ignored my mother's wishes! And if she finds you out, and, oh, I hope +she does, don't you come to me to save you from punishment? Depend upon +it, I shan't lift my little finger to help you! No! Not if it's bread +and water for a week! Not if you----" + +A door slammed. From the library came the sound of quick steps. Then a +voice was upraised: "Susan! Susan!" + +The red paled in Sue's cheeks. "Oh!" She threw out both arms as if to +sweep the entire choir to her. "Oh, my darlings!" she whispered +hoarsely. "Oh! Oh, mother mustn't see you! Go! Hurry!" As they +crowded to her, she thrust them backward, through the door to the +passage. "Oh, quick! Bobbie! My dears!" + +Eight were crammed into the shelter of the passage. Four pressed against +their fellows but could not get across the sill in time. These Sue swept +into a crouching line at her back--as the library door opened, and Mrs. +Milo came panting into the room. + +As mother and daughter faced each other, Hattie, seated quietly in the +bay-window, smiled at the two--so amazingly unlike. It was as if an +aristocratic, velvet-footed feline were bristling before a great, +good-tempered St. Bernard. In a curious way, too, and in a startling +degree, each woman subtracted sharply from the other. In the presence of +Sue, Mrs. Milo's petiteness became weakness, her dainty trimness +accentuated her helplessness, her delicate coloring looked ill-health; +while Sue, by contrast, seemed over-high as to color, almost boisterous +of voice, and careless in dress. + +Mrs. Milo's look was all reproval. "Susan Milo," she began, "where have +you been?" + +Sue was standing very still--in order not to uncover a vestige of boy. +She smiled, half wistfully, half mischievously. "Just--er--in the +Church, mother." She had her own way of saying "mother." On her lips it +was no mere title, lightly used. Her very prolonging of the "r" gave the +word all the tender meanings--undivided love, and loyalty, protection, +yet dependence. She spoke it like a caress. + +Mrs. Milo recognized in her daughter's tone an apology for something. +Quick suspicion took the place of reproval. "And what were you doing in +the Church?"--with a rising inflection. + +"Well, I--I was sort of--poking around." + +"St!"--an exclamation of impatience. Then, "Churches are not made to +poke in." + +Now there came to Sue that look that suggested a little girl, and a +naughty little girl at that. She turned on her mother a beguiling smile. +"I--I was--er--poking in the vestry," she explained. + +Mrs. Milo observed that the bay-window held a young person in white +satin, who was sitting very still, and was all attention. She managed a +faint returning smile, therefore, and assumed a playful tone. "The +vestry is not a part of your duties as secretary," she reminded. "And +there's so much to do, my daughter,--the decorations, the caterer, +the----" + +"I know, mother. I shan't neglect a thing." Sue swayed a little, to the +clutch of a small hand dragging at her skirt. + +"And as I've said before, I prefer that you'd take all of Mr. Farvel's +dictation in the library; I don't want you hanging about in the vestry +unless I'm with you.--Will you please pay attention to what I'm +saying?"--this with much patience. + +Over one arm, folded, Sue carried a garment of ministerial black. This +she now unfolded and spread, the better to hide the boy crouching closest +at her back. "Oh, yes, mother dear," she admitted reassuringly. "Yes." + +"And what is that you have?" The tone might have been used to a child. + +Hurriedly Sue doubled the black lengths. "It's--it's just a vestment," +she explained, embarrassed. + +"Please." Mrs. Milo held out a white hand. + +To go forward and lay the vestment in that hand meant to disclose the +presence of the hiding quartette. With quick forethought, Sue leaned far +forward in what might be mistaken for a bow, tipped her head gaily to one +side, and stretched an arm to proffer the offending garment. "Here, +motherkins! It's in need of mending." + +Mrs. Milo tossed the vestment to the piano. "What has your work--your +accounts and statements and stenography--what have they to do with the +Rector's mending?" she demanded. + +"Well, mother, I used to mend for the last minister." + +"Oh, my daughter!" mourned Mrs. Milo. + +"Ye-e-e-s, mother?"--fearful that the boys were at last discovered. + +"Do you mean to say that you see no difference in mending for a single +man? a young man? an utter stranger?" + +Sue heaved a sigh of relief. "Mother darling," she protested fondly; +"hardly a stranger." + +"We'll not discuss it," said her mother gently; then taking a more +judicial attitude, "Now, I'll speak to those boys." + +Long experience had shown Sue Milo that there were times when it was best +to put off the evil moment, since at any juncture something quite +unforeseen--such as an unexpected arrival--might solve her difficulty. +This was such an occasion. So with over-elaborate care, she proceeded to +outline the forthcoming program of the morning. "You see, mother, we're +to rehearse--choir and all. They'll march from the library, right across +here----" She indicated the route of procession. + +But long experience had taught Mrs. Milo that procrastination often +robbed her of her best opportunities. She pointed a slender finger to +the carpet in front of her. "The boys," she said more firmly. + +One by one, Sue brought them forward--Bobbie in the lead, then the +tow-headed boy; this to conceal the unfortunate state of Ikey and the +war-like Clarence. "Here they are, mother!" she announced gaily. "Here +are our fine little men!" + +Neither cheerful air nor kindly adjective served to pacify Mrs. Milo's +anger at sight of the four intruders. Her nostrils swelled. "What are +you doing here?" she questioned, with a mildness contradicted by her +look; "--against my strict orders." + +Bobbie, the ever-ready, strove to answer, swallowed, paled, choked, and +turned appealingly to Sue; while the remaining three, with upraised eyes, +beseeched her like dumb things. + +"Absolutely necessary, mother," declared Sue. She gave each boy a +reassuring pat. "As I was saying, they march from the library, preceding +the bride----" + +But Mrs. Milo was not listening. There was that still white figure in +the bay-window, observing the scene intently. She bestowed a pleasant +nod upon the quartette. "You may go now, boys," she said cooingly; "I'll +speak to you later." + +Bobbie found his voice. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you!"--and took one long +step churchward. The tow-headed boy moved with him. + +This left unshielded the erstwhile contesting twain. Mrs. Milo's look +seemed to fall upon them like a blow. "Oh! Oh!" she cried in horror, +pointing. + +As one, Ikey and Clarence began rubbing tell-tale streaks from their +countenances with their rumpled cottas, and pressing down their +upstanding hair. + +"No! No-o-o!" cried Mrs. Milo. "That photograph! What are you doing +with it?" + +In sudden panic, Bobbie shifted the photograph from hand to hand; tried +to force it into the hands of the tow-headed boy, then bent to consign it +to the carpet. + +Sue was beforehand. She caught the picture away from the small trembling +hand, and smiled upon her mother. "Oh--I--I was just going to look at +it," she explained. "Thank you, Bobbie.--Isn't it good of father! So +natural, and--and----" + +Mrs. Milo was not deceived. "Give it to me," she said coldly. And as +Sue obeyed, "Now, go, boys. Dora, poor child, works so hard to keep this +drawing-room looking well. We can't have you disarrange it. Come! Be +prompt!" + +Sue urged the four passageward. "They were just going, mother.--Don't +touch the woodwork; use the door knob." + +And now, when it seemed that even Ikey and Clarence might escape +undetected, Mrs. Milo gave another cry. "Oh, what's the matter with +those two?" she demanded. + +There was no long term of orphanage life to quiet the young savage in +Ikey. And with his much-prized voice, he was even accustomed to being +listened to on more than musical occasions. Now he bolted forward, +disregarding Sue's hand, which caught at him as he passed. "Missis," +began the borrowed soloist, meeting Mrs. Milo's horrified gaze with +undaunted eye, "Clarence, he is jealousy dat I sing so fine." + +To argue with Sue, or to subdue her, that was one thing; to come to cases +with Ikey was quite another. He had an unpleasant habit of threatening +to betake himself out and away to his aunt, or to go on strike at such +dramatic times as morning service. Therefore, it seemed safer now to +ignore the question of torn and muddied cottas, and seize upon some other +pretext for censure. "What kind of language is that?" questioned Mrs. +Milo, gently chiding. "'He is jealousy'!" + +"Yes, quaint, isn't it, mother?" broke in Sue. "Really quaint." And to +Ikey, "Not jealousy--jealous." + +Ikey bobbed. Before him, like a swathed candle, he upheld his sore +finger. + +"Please, Susan!" begged Mrs. Milo, with a look which made her daughter +fall back apologetically. And to Ikey, "How did you come by that wound?" + +The truth would not do. And the truth was even now on the very tip of +Ikey's heedless tongue. Sue gave him a little sidewise push. "Mother +dear," she explained, "it was accidental." + +Aghast at the very boldness of the statement, Ikey came about upon the +defender. "Ac-ci-den-tal!" he cried; "dat he smashes me in de hand? Oh, +Momsey!" + +"Sh! Sh!" implored Sue. + +But the worst had happened. Now, voice or no voice, aunt or no aunt, +Ikey must be disciplined. Mrs. Milo caught him by a white sleeve. "Ikey +Einstein!" she breathed, appalled. + +"Yes, Missis?" + +"Please don't 'Missis' me! What did you call my daughter?" + +"I--I mean Miss Milo." + +"What did you call my daughter?" + +"Mother," pleaded Sue, "it slipped out." + +"Do not interrupt me." + +"No, mother." + +"Answer me, Ikey." + +"I says to her, Momsey." + +Mrs. Milo glared at the boy, her breast heaving. There was more in her +hostile attitude toward him than the fact that he bore signs of a fracas, +or that he had dared in her hearing to let slip the "Momsey" he so loved +to use. To her, pious as she was (but pious through habit rather than +through any deep conviction), the mere sight of the child was enough to +rouse her anger. She resented his ever having been taken into the choir +of St. Giles, no matter how good his voice might be. She even resented +his having a voice. He was "that little Jew" always, and a living symbol +"in our Christian church" of a "race that had slain the Lord." And it +was all this which added to his sin in daring to look upon her daughter +with an affection that was filial. + +"Ikey Einstein,"--she emphasized the name--"haven't you been told never +to address Miss Susan as 'Momsey'?" + +"He forgot," urged Sue. "But he won't ever----" + +"You're interrupting again----" + +"Excuse me." + +"How do you expect these boys to be obedient when you don't set them a +good example?" Her sorrowful smile was purely muscular in its origin. + +"I am to blame, mother----" + +Mrs. Milo returned to the errant soloist. "And you were willfully +disobeying, you wicked little boy!" + +A queer look came into Ikey's eyes. His angular face seemed to draw up. +His ears moved under their eaves of curling hair. "Ye-e-es, Missis," he +drawled calmly. + +Mrs. Milo was a judge of moods. She knew she had gone far enough. She +assumed a tone of deepest regret. "Ungrateful children!" she said, +distributing her censure. "Think of the little orphans who don't get the +care you get! Think----" And arraigning the sagging Clarence, "Don't +lean against Miss Milo." + +Ikey grinned. Experience had taught him that when Mrs. Milo permitted +herself to halt a scolding, she would not resume it. Furthermore, a +loud, burring bell was ringing from somewhere beyond the Church, and that +summons meant the choirmaster, a personage who was really formidable. +Before Sue, he raised that candle-like finger. + +"Practice," announced Mrs. Milo, pointing to the passage. + +Three boys drew churchward on sluggish feet. But Sue held Ikey back. +"His finger hurts," she comforted. "Come! We'll get some liniment." + +"Susan!"--gently reproving again. "There's liniment in the Dispensary." + +Up, as before a teacher, came Ikey's well hand. "Please, Missis, de +Orphan medicine, she is not a speck of good." + +Sue added her plea. "No, mother, she is not a speck." + +Mrs. Milo shook her head sadly. "You're not going to help these children +by coddling them," she reminded. And to Ikey, "Let Nature repair the +bruise." She waved all four to go. + +"Out of here, you little rascals!" Sue covered her chagrin by a laugh. +"Oh, you go that way,"--this to Ikey, who was treading too close upon the +heels of the still mourning Clarence. She guided the wounded chorister +toward the Close. + +Ikey took his banishment with a sulky look at Mrs. Milo. "Nature," she +had recommended to him. He did not know any such person, and resented +being turned over to a stranger. + +Mrs. Milo saw the look. "Wait!" And as he halted, "Is that your +handkerchief, Sue?" + +"Why--why--er--I think so." + +"Kindly take it." + +Gently as this was said, it was for Ikey the last straw. As Sue unwound +the square of linen, he emitted a heart-rending "Ow!" and fell to weeping +stormily. "Oh, boo-hoo! Oh! Oh! Oh, dis is wat I gets for singin' in +a Christian choir!" With which stinging rebuke, he fled the drawing-room. + +"Now, Susan." Mrs. Milo folded her hands and regarded her daughter +sorrowfully. + +"Yes, mother?" + +"Haven't I asked you not to allow those boys to call you Momsey?" + +"Yes, mother, but----" + +The white-clad figure in the bay-window stirred, rose, and came forward, +and Hattie ranged herself at Sue's side, the whole movement plainly one +of defense. + +Her bridal raiment afforded Sue an excuse for changing the subject. "Oh, +mother, look! How lovely!" + +"Don't evade my question," chided the elder woman. + +Sue reached for her mother's hand. "Ah, poor little hungry hearts," she +pleaded. "Those boys just long to call somebody mother." + +Mrs. Milo drew her hand free. "Then let them call me mother," she +returned. + +"Hup!" laughed Hattie, hastily averting her face. + +Sue turned to her, mild wonder in her eyes. "Oh, mother's the best +mother in the world," she declared; "--and the sweetest.--And you love +the boys, don't you, dear?" + +Mrs. Milo was watching Hattie's lowered head through narrowed eyes. "I +love them--naturally," she answered, with a note of injury. + +"Of course, you do! You're a true mother. And a true mother loves +anybody's baby. But--the trouble is"--this with a tender +smile--"you--you don't always show them the love in your heart." + +"Well," retorted her mother, "I shan't let them make you +ridiculous.--Momsey!" + +From the Church came the sound of boyish laughter, mingled with snatches +of a hymn. The hymn was Ikey's favorite, and above all the other voices +sounded his-- + + "_O Mutter Dear, Jaru-u-u-usalem----_" + + +Sue turned her head to listen. "They know they've got a right to at +least one parent," she said, almost as if to herself. "Preferably a +mother." + +"But you're an unmarried woman!" + +"Still what difference does that make in----" + +"Please don't argue." + +"No, mother,"--dutifully. + +"To refer to yourself in such a way is most indelicate. Especially +before Hattie." + +There was no dissembling in the look Hattie Balcome gave the older woman. +The young eyes were full of comprehension, and mockery; they said as +plainly as words, "Here is one who knows you for what you are--in spite +of your dainty manners, your gentle voice, your sweet words." Nor could +the girl keep out of her tone something of the dislike and distrust she +felt. "Well, Mrs. Milo!" she exclaimed. "I think it's a terrible pity +that Sue's not a mother." + +"Oh, indeed!"--with quick anger, scarcely restrained. "Well, the subject +is not appropriate to unmarried persons, especially young girls. Let us +drop it." + +"Mother!"--And having diverted Mrs. Milo's resentful stare to herself, +Sue now deliberately swung the possibility of censure her way in order to +protect Hattie. "Mother, shouldn't a woman who hasn't children fill her +arms with the children who haven't mothers? Why shouldn't I mother our +orphan boys and girls?" + +"I repeat: The subject is closed. And when the wedding is over, I don't +want the boys in here again." + +Sue blinked guiltily. "But--er--hasn't Mr. Farvel told you?" + +"Told me what?" + +"Of--of his plan." + +"Plan?" + +"Oh, it's a splendid idea!" + +"Really,"--with fine sarcasm. + +"Every day, five orphans in to dinner." + +Mrs. Milo was aghast. "Dinner? _Here_?" + +"As Ikey says, 'Ve vill eat mit a napkins.'" + +Mrs. Milo could not find words for the counter-arguing of such a +monstrous plan. "But,--but, Sue," she stammered; "they--they're +_natural_!" + +A hearty laugh. "Natural, dear mother? I hope they are." + +"You--know--what--I--mean." + +"Well, I can't tell them from other children with the naked eye. And +they're just as dear and sweet, and just as human--if not a little more +so." + +"You have your duty to the Rectory." + +"But what's this Rectory here for? And the Church, too, for that matter?" + +"For worship." + +"And how better can we worship than----" + +Seeing that she was losing out in the argument, Mrs. Milo now resorted to +personalities. "Darling," she said gently, "do you know that you're +contradicting your mother?" + +"I'm sorry." + +"The children are given food, clothes, and religious instruction." + +"But not love!--Oh, mother, I must say it! We herd them out there in +that great building, just because their fathers and mothers didn't take +out a license to be parents!" + +Shocked, Mrs. Milo stepped back. "My daughter!" + +"Can we punish those poor little souls for that? And, oh, how they'd +relish a taste of home life!" + +Her position decidedly weakened--and that before watchful Hattie--Mrs. +Milo adopted new tactics. "Of course, I have nothing to say," she began. +"I am only here because you hold this secretaryship. You don't have to +make me feel that I'm an intruder, Sue. I feel that sharply enough." +There was a trace of tears in her voice. "But even as an intruder, I +have a certain responsibility toward the Rectory--all the greater, +perhaps, because I'm a guest. Many a day I tire myself out attending to +duties that are not mine. And I do----" She interrupted herself to +point carpet-ward. "Please pick up that needle. Dora must have +overlooked it this morning. What is a needle doing in here? Thank you." +Then as she spied that mocking look in Hattie's eyes once more, "Well, +I'm not going to see the place pulled to pieces!" + +There was scorn written even in Hattie's profile. Sue came quickly to +her mother's defense. "I get mother's viewpoint absolutely," she +declared stoutly. "We've lived here a long time. Naturally, you +see----" Then, with a shake of the head, "But this is Mr. Farvel's home." + +Mrs. Milo laughed--a low, musical, well-bred laugh. "His home?" she +repeated, raising delicate brows. + +"And he can do as he chooses. If we oppose----" + +"I shall oppose." It was said cheerfully. "So let him dismiss you. +I've never touched your father's life insurance, and I can get along +nicely on his pension. And you're a first-class secretary--rector after +rector has said that. So you can easily find another position." + +"You find another job, Sue," interposed Hattie, "and my mother will +invite your mother to Buffalo to live. I'll bequeath my room." She +laughed. + +Mrs. Milo ignored her. "But while I am forced to live here, I shall +protect the Rectory. Furthermore, I shall tell Mr. Farvel so." She +turned toward the library. + +"Oh, mother, no!" Sue followed, and caught at her mother's arm. "Not +today! There's a dear, sweet mother!" + +"Sue!" cried Hattie. Her look questioned the other anxiously. + +But Mrs. Milo felt no concern for the minister. She freed herself from +Sue's hold. "You seem very much worried about him," she returned +jealously, staring at Sue. + +"You think he's unhappy?" persisted Hattie. + +"There!" exclaimed Sue. "You see, mother? Hattie's worried, too. It's +natural, isn't it, Hattie?" + +"Well, it's all nonsense," pronounced Mrs. Milo. "He isn't unhappy. +Wallace has known him longer than we have, and he says Mr. Farvel has +always been like that." + +Sue patted her mother's cheek playfully. "Then let's not make him any +sadder," she said. "Everything must be 'Bless you, my children' around +this place today. We don't want any 'Earth to earth, ashes to ashes.'" +She gave her parent a hearty kiss. + +Mrs. Milo was at once mollified. "I hope," she went on gently, "that Mr. +Farvel didn't have to know why Hattie is being married here instead of in +Buffalo." + +Sue made a comical face. "I explained," she began roguishly, "that the +Rectory is--er--neutral territory." + +"Neutral," repeated Hattie, with a hint of bitterness. + +Once more a jealous light had crept into Mrs. Milo's blue eyes. "Why +should you give Mr. Farvel the confidences of the family?" she demanded. + +"I had to." Sue threw up helpless hands. "Mr. Balcome refused to walk +down the aisle with Mrs. Balcome after the ceremony. That meant no +Church. Then he refused to have her stand beside him in here. But he +can't refuse to gather on the lawn!" + +"Sue," said Hattie, "you have a trusting nature." + +"But what's he afraid of?" Sue asked. "She wouldn't bite him." + +"_Who wouldn't bite who?_" + +The three turned toward the vestibule door. A large person was +entering--a lady, in an elaborate street gown of a somewhat striking +plum-color, crowned by an ample hat with spreading, fern-like plumes. +About her throat was a veritable cascade of white crêpe collar; and +against the crêpe, carried high, and appearing not unlike a decoration, +was a tiny buff-and-black dog. + +"Ah, my dear!" cried Mrs. Milo, warmly. + +Sue chuckled. "I was just remarking, Mrs. Balcome," she replied, "that +you wouldn't bite Hattie's father." + +Mrs. Balcome, her face dyeing with the effort, set down the tiny dog upon +the cherished Brussels. "Don't be so sure!" she cautioned. She had a +deep voice that rumbled. + +Hattie pointed a finger at Sue. "Ah-h-a-a-a!" she triumphed. + +"Ah-h-a-a-a-a!" mocked her mother. Then coming closer, and looking the +wedding-dress over critically, "Rehearsing, eh, in your wedding-dress! +What would Buffalo think if it saw you!" With which rebuff, she sank, +blowing, upon the couch, and drew Mrs. Milo down beside her. + +"Oh, why didn't you have your parents toss up?" asked Sue. + +"Pitchforks?" inquired Hattie. + +"No! To see which one would be unavoidably called out of town." + +"Oh, I've tried compromise," said the girl, wearily. + +"Well, ABC mediation never was much of a success up around Buffalo," went +on Sue, her eyes twinkling with fun. "Ho-hum! The Secretary of +State"--she indicated herself--"will see what she can do." And strolling +to the sofa, "Mrs. Balcome, hadn't we better talk this rehearsal over +with the head of the house?" + +Mrs. Balcome swept round. "Talk?" she cried. "Talk? Why, I never speak +to him." + +Sue gasped. "Wha-a-at?" + +"Never," confirmed Hattie. "And he never talks to her--except through +me." + +Sue was incredulous. "You mean----" And pantomimed, pointing from an +imaginary speaker to Hattie; from Hattie to a second speaker; then back. + +"Exactly." + +Sue pretended to be overwhelmed. She sank to a chair. "Oh, that sounds +wonderful!" she cried. "I want to try it!" + +"That new job you're looking for," suggested Hattie. "You know I resign +tomorrow." + +Sue rose and struck an absurd attitude. "Behold Susan Milo, the Human +Telephone!" she announced. And to Hattie's mother, "Where is Mr. +Balcome?" + +By now, Mrs. Balcome had entirely recovered her breath. "Where he is," +she answered calmly, "or what he does, is of no importance to me." She +picked at the crêpe cascade. + +Sue exchanged a look with her mother. "Well--er--he'll be here?" she +ventured. + +Mrs. Balcome lifted her ample shoulders. "I don't know, and I don't +care." She fell to caressing the dog. + +Sue nodded understandingly to Hattie. "The Secretary of State," she +declared, "is going to have her hands full." Whereupon the two sat down +at either side of the center table, leaned their arms upon it, and gave +themselves up to paroxysms of silent laughter. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Not far away, in an upper room, two men were facing each other across a +table--the wide, heavy work-table of the Rectory "study." The "study" +was a south room, and into it the May sun poured like a warm stream, to +fade further the green of the "cartridge" paper on the walls and the +figures of the "art-square" that covered the floor, and to bring out +with cruel distinctness the quantities of dust that Dora was allowed to +disturb not more frequently than once a week. For the "study" was a +place sacred to the privacy of each succeeding clergyman. And here, +face to face, Alan Farvel and the bridegroom-to-be were ending a long, +grave conversation--a prenuptial conversation invited by the younger +man. + +Wallace Milo was twenty-eight, and over-tall, so that he carried +himself with an almost apologetic drooping stoop, as if he were +conscious of his length and sought to make it less noticeable. It was +an added misfortune in his eyes that he was spare. In sharp contrast +to his sister, he was pale--a paleness accentuated by his dark hair, +which was thick, and slightly curly, and piled itself up in an +unconquerable pompadour that added to his height. Those who saw Mrs. +Milo and Sue together invariably remarked, "Isn't the devotion of +mother and daughter perfectly beautiful!" Just as surely did these +same people observe, when they saw brother and sister side by side, +"There are two children who look as if they aren't even related." + +Alan Farvel, though only a dozen years the senior of Wallace, had the +look and the bearing of a man much older than forty. His face was deep +lined, and his hair was well grayed. But his eyes were young; blue and +smiling, they transformed his whole face. It was as if his face had +registered the responsibilities and worries that his eyes had never +recognized. + +He was speaking. "I know exactly how you feel, Wallace. I think every +decent chap feels like that the day before he marries. He wants to +look back on every year, and search out every mean thought, and every +unworthy action--if there is one. But"--he reached to take the other's +hand--"you needn't be blaming yourself, old man. Ha-ha-a-a! Don't I +know you! Why, bless the ridiculous boy, you couldn't do a downright +bad thing if you wanted to! You're the very soul of honor." + +Wallace got to his feet--started, rather, as if there was something +which Farvel's words had all but driven him to say, but which he was +striving to keep back. Resolutely he looked out of the window, swaying +a little, with one hand holding to the edge of the table so tightly +that his finger-ends were bloodless. + +"The very soul of honor," repeated Farvel, watching the half-averted +face. + +Wallace sank down. "Oh, Alan," he began huskily, "I'll treat her +right--tenderly and--and honorably. I love her--I can't tell you how I +love her." + +Farvel did not speak for a moment. Then, "Everybody loves her," he +said, huskily too. + +"Oh, not the right way--not her parents, I mean. They haven't ever +considered her--you know that. She hasn't had a home--or happiness." +He touched his eyes with the back of a hand. + +"Make her happy." Farvel's voice was deep with feeling. "She's had +all the things money can buy. Now--give her what is priceless." + +"I will! I will!" + +"Faithfulness, and unselfish love, and tenderness when she's ill, +and--best of all, Wallace,--peace. Don't ever let the first +quarrel----" + +"Quarrel!" + +"I fancy most men don't anticipate unpleasantness when they marry. But +this or that turns up and marriage takes forbearance." He rose. "Now, +I've been talking to you as if you were some man I know only +casually--instead of the old fellow who's so near and dear to me. I +know your good heart, your clean soul----" + +Wallace again stood. "Oh, don't think I'm an angel," he plead. +"I--I----" Once more that grip on the table. He shut his jaws tight. +He trembled. + +"Now, this will do," said Farvel, gently. "Come! We'll go down and +see how preparations are going forward. A little work won't be a bad +thing for you today." He gave the younger man a playful pull around +the end of the table. "You know, I find that all bridegrooms get into +a very exaggerated state of self-examination and self-blame just before +they marry. You're running true to form." He took Wallace's arm +affectionately. + +As they entered the drawing-room, Mrs. Milo uprose from the sofa, hands +thrown wide in a quick warning. "Oh, don't bring him in!" she cried, +looking for all the world like an excited figurine. + +"It's bad luck!" chimed in Mrs. Balcome, realizing the state of affairs +without turning. + +The younger women at the table had also risen, and now Hattie came +forward to meet the men, smiling at Farvel, and picking out the +flounces of her gown to invite his approval. + +"Oh, you shouldn't see it till tomorrow," complained Mrs. Milo, +appealing to her son. + +Farvel laughed. "How could it bring anyone bad luck?" he demanded; +"--to see such a picture." He halted, one arm about Wallace's shoulder. + +"Do you like it?" cried Hattie. "Do you really? Oh, I'm glad!" + +Sue, puzzled, was watching Farvel, who seemed so unwontedly +good-spirited, even gay. "Why, Mr. Farvel," she interposed; +"I--I--never thought you noticed clothes--not--not anybody's clothes." +She looked down at her own dress a little ruefully. It was of serge, +dark, neat, but well worn. + +"Well, I don't as a rule," he laughed. "But this creation wouldn't +escape even a blind man." Hands in pockets, and head to one side, he +admired the slowly circling satin-and-tulle. + +Before Sue, on the table, was a morning newspaper; behind her, on the +piano, the vestment which Mrs. Milo had thrown down. Quickly covering +the garment with the paper, Sue caught up both and made toward the hall +door. + +"Susan dear!" Her mother smiled across Mrs. Balcome's trembling +plumes. "Where are you going?" + +"Er--some--some extra chairs," ventured Sue. "I thought--one or +two----" + +Mrs. Milo crossed the room leisurely. The trio absorbed in the +wedding-gown were laughing and chatting together. Mrs. Balcome had +rushed heavily to the bay-window in the wake of the poodle, who, from +the window-seat, was barking, black nose against the glass, at some +venturesome sparrows. Quietly Mrs. Milo took paper and vestment from +Sue and tucked them under an arm. "We have plenty of chairs," she said +sweetly. + +"Yes," assented Sue, obediently; "yes, I--I suppose we have." Her eyes +fell before her mother's look. Again it was as if a small child had +been surprised in naughtiness. + +Now from the Church sounded the voices of the choir. The burring bell +had summoned to more, and still more, practice of tomorrow's music, and +a score of boys, their song coming loud and clear from the near +distance, were rendering the Wedding March from "Lohengrin." + +A curious, and instant, change came over Farvel. His laughter stopped; +he retreated, and fumbled with one hand at his hair. "Oh, +that--that----" he murmured under his breath. + +"Alan!" Wallace went to him. + +"It's nothing," protested Farvel. "Nothing." + +Sue made as if to open the library door. It was plain that, ill or +troubled, Farvel was eager to get away. + +"Wait," said her mother. + +Wallace turned the clergyman toward the door leading to the Church. +"Come, old man," he urged. "Let's go right in. That's best." + +Farvel permitted himself to be half-led. But he paused part way to +look back at the quartette of ladies standing, silent and watchful, at +the center of the room. "It's all right," he assured them, smiling +wanly at Hattie. He tried to speak casually. "Let me know when you're +ready to rehearse." Wallace had reached out to draw Farvel through the +door. It closed behind them. + +Sue made as if to follow the two men. But once more her mother +interposed. "Susan!" And then in explanation, "I wouldn't--they'll +want to be alone." + +Now, as if silenced by an order, the choir stopped in the middle of a +bar. + +"Well!" exclaimed Mrs. Balcome. "Positively tragic!" She gathered up +the dog and sank upon the sofa. + +"Of course, you saw what did it," observed Mrs. Milo. + +"What?" asked Hattie, almost challengingly. + +"The wedding-march." And when that had sunk in, "Wallace knew. Didn't +you hear what he said? He wanted Mr. Farvel to--to conquer +the--the--whatever it was he felt. I'll wager" (Mrs. Milo permitted +herself to "wager" under the stress of excitement, never to "bet") +"that he's broken his engagement, or something of that sort." + +Hattie stared resentfully. + +"Engagement?" repeated Sue. + +Mrs. Milo's blue eyes sparkled with triumph. "Well, it wouldn't +surprise me," she declared. + +Sue's color deepened. "Why, of course, he isn't," she answered +defensively. "He'd say so--he wouldn't keep a matter like that secret. +It isn't like him--a whole year." + +Her mother smiled at her fondly. "There's nothing to get excited +about, my daughter." + +"But, mother, it's absurd." + +Mrs. Milo strolled to a chair and seated herself with elaborate care. +"Well, anyway," she argued, "he carries a girl's picture in his pocket." + +In the pause that followed, a telephone began to ring persistently from +the direction of the library. But Sue seemed not to hear it. "A +picture," she said slowly. And as her mother assented, smiling, +"And--and what did he say when he showed it to you?" + +Mrs. Milo started. "Well,--er--the fact is," she admitted, "he didn't +exactly show it to me." + +"Oh." It was scarcely more than a breath. + +Mrs. Milo tossed her head. "No," she added tartly, a trifle ruffled by +what the low-spoken exclamation so plainly implied. "If you must know, +it fell out of his bureau drawer." + +Mrs. Balcome threw out a plump arm across the bending back of the sofa +and touched a sleeve of the satin gown covertly. "Hm!" she coughed, +with meaning. + +But Hattie only moved aside irritably. Of a sudden, she was strangely +pale. + +Dora entered. "Miss Susan, a telephone summons," she announced. + +"Yes--yes,"--absent-mindedly. + +When she was gone, Mrs. Milo rose and hastened to Dora, who seemed on +guard as she waited, leaned against the library door. "Who is +telephoning?" she asked. + +Dora's eyes narrowed--to hide their smile. "Oh, Mrs. Milo," she +answered, intoning gravely, "the fourth verse, of the thirteenth +chapter--or is it the ninth?--of Isaiah." With face raised, as if she +were still cudgeling her brain, she crossed toward the vestibule. + +"Isaiah--Isaiah," murmured Mrs. Milo. Then, as Dora seemed about to +escape, "Dora!--I wouldn't speak in parables, my child, when there are +others present." She smiled kindly. + +"It is the soloist telephoning," explained Dora; then, so deliberately +as almost to be impudent, "A _girl_." + +Mrs. Milo showed instant relief. "Oh, the soloist! Such a dear girl. +She sang here a year or so ago. Yes,--Miss Crosby." + +Dora out, Mrs. Balcome turned a look of wisdom upon her hostess. "I +see," she insinuated, "that we're very much interested in the new +minister." + +Like that of a startled deer, up came Mrs. Milo's head. "What do you +mean?" she demanded. + +"If he isn't engaged already, prepare for wedding Number Two." + +"_Wedding?_" + +Mrs. Balcome tipped forward bulkily. "Sue," she nodded. + +Mrs. Milo got to her feet. "Sue! What're you talking about? Why, she +never even speaks of marriage." + +"Well, maybe she--thinks." + +"She doesn't think, either. She has her work, and--and her home." +Mrs. Milo was fairly trembling. + +"How do you know she doesn't think? It's perfectly natural." + +"I know. And please don't bring up the subject in her presence." + +"Why, my dear!" chided Mrs. Balcome, amazed at the passion flaming in +the blue eyes. + +"And don't tease her about Mr. Farvel." That voice so habitually well +modulated became suddenly shrill. + +"Don't you like him?"--soothingly. + +"Not well enough to give my daughter to him." + +"Well," simpered Mrs. Balcome, all elephantine playfulness, "we mustn't +expect perfection in our son-in-laws. Though Wallace is +wonderful--isn't he, Hattie?" + +Hattie's back was turned. "I--I suppose so," she answered, low. + +"You suppose so!" Mrs. Balcome was shocked. "I must say, Hattie, +you're taking this whole thing very calmly--very. And right in front +of the boy's mother!" + +"Sue is perfectly contented,"--it was Mrs. Milo once more--"perfectly +happy. And besides, she's a little older than Mr. Farvel." This with +a note of satisfaction. + +Mrs. Balcome stroked the dog. "What's a year or two," she urged. + +"Not in a man's life. But in a woman's, a year is like five--at Sue's +time of life." + +"Those make the happiest kind of marriages," persisted Mrs. Balcome; +"--the very happiest." + +Again Mrs. Milo's voice rose stridently. "Please drop the subject," +she begged. + +Mrs. Balcome struggled up. "Oh, very well. But you know, my dear, +that a woman finds her real happiness in marriage. Because after all +is said and done, marriage----" + +"Mr. John Balcome," announced Dora, appearing from the vestibule. + +As if knocked breathless by a blow, Mrs. Balcome cut short her +sentence, went rigid, and clutched the loose coat of the poodle so +tightly that four short legs stood out stiff, and two small eyes became +mere slits. + +Mrs. Milo met the emergency. "Oh, yes, Dora," she said sweetly; and +flashed her guest a look of warning. + +"Till rehearsal," went on Dora, in a mournful sing-song, "Mr. Balcome +prefers to remain on the sidewalk." + +Mrs. Milo pretended not to understand. "Oh, we don't mind his cigar," +she protested. "Ask him in." And as the girl trailed out, "I do hope +your husband won't say anything to that child. She takes the +Scriptures so--so literally." + +Hattie crossed to her mother. "Shan't I carry Babette upstairs?" she +asked. + +"No!" Mrs. Balcome jerked rudely away. + +"But she annoys father." + +"Why do you think I brought her?" + +"Oh!--Well, in that case, please don't let me interfere." She went +out, banging a door. + +"Now! Now!" pleaded Mrs. Milo, lifting entreating hands. + +Balcome entered. He was a large man, curiously like his wife in type, +for he had the same florid stoutness, the same rather small and pale +eye. His well-worn sack suit hung on him loosely. He carried a large +soft hat in one hand, and with it he continually flopped nervously at a +knee. As he caught sight of the two women, he twisted his face into a +scowl. + +Mrs. Milo, all smiles, and with outstretched hands, floated toward him +in her most graceful manner. "Ah, Brother Balcome!" she cried warmly. + +Balcome halted, seized her left hand, gave it a single shake, dropped +it, and stalked across the drawing-room head in air. "Don't call me +brother," he said crossly. + +Dora, going libraryward, stopped to view him in mingled reproval and +sorrow. + +"Well, what's the matter with you?" he demanded. "Eh? Eh?" + +She shook her head, put her finger-tips together, and directed her gaze +upon the ceiling. "'For ye have need of patience,'" she quoted. + +"Well, of all the impudent----" began Balcome, giving his knee a loud +"whop" with the hat. + +"Hebrews," interrupted Dora; "--Hebrews, tenth chapter, and +thirty-sixth verse." + +Balcome nodded. "I guess you're right," he confided. "Patience. +That's it." And to Mrs. Milo, "Say, when do we rehearse this +tragedy?"--Whereat Dora cupped one hand over her mouth and fled the +room. + +Mrs. Balcome was stung to action. "Hear that!" she cried, appealing to +Mrs. Milo. "A father, of his daughter's wedding!" + +"Oh, sh!" cautioned Mrs. Milo. + +Balcome glared. "Let me tell you this," he went on, as if to the room +in general, "if Hattie's going to act like her mother, she'd better +stop the whole business today." He sat down. + +"Now, Brother Balcome,"--this pleadingly. + +"Don't call me _brother_!" shouted Mr. Balcome. + +That shout, like a shot, brought Mrs. Balcome down. She plumped upon +the sofa. "Oh, now you see what I have to bear!" she wailed. "Now, +you understand! Oh! Oh!" She buried her face in the coat of the +convenient Babette. + +Mrs. Milo hastened to her, soothing, imploring. And Balcome rose, to +pace the floor, flapping at his knee with each step. + +"Now, you see what _I_ have to bear," he mocked. "My only daughter +marries, and her mother brings that hunk of hydrophobia to rehearsal." + +At this critical juncture, with Mrs. Balcome's weeping gaining +in volume, a gay voice sounded from the +library--"Toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot!" The library door +opened, disclosing Sue. She let the doorway frame her, and waited, +inviting attention. She was no longer in her simple work-dress. Silk +and net and lace--this was her bridesmaid's gown. + +Balcome's face widened in a grin. "By Jove, you look fine!" + +"Thanks to you!" + +"Shush! Shush!" He shook hands. "Not married yet?" + +Mrs. Milo, busily engaged in quieting Mrs. Balcome, lifted her head, +but without turning. + +"_I?_" laughed Sue. + +"Understand there's a good-looking parson here." + +A quick smile--toward the door leading to the Church. Sue fell to +arranging her dress. "Mm, yes," she answered, a little +absent-mindedly; "yes, there is--one here." + +"Oh, marry! Marry! Marry!" scolded Mrs. Milo. "I think people are +marry crazy." + +Balcome laughed. "I believe you!--Sue, why don't you capture that +parson?" + +Mrs. Milo rose, taking a peep at the tiny watch hidden under the frill +at a wrist. "Susan," she said sweetly, "will you see what the florist +is doing?" + +"Oh, he's all right, mother dear. He----" + +"Do you want your mother to do it?" + +"Oh, no, mother. No." All gauze and sheen, like a mammoth butterfly, +Sue hurried across the room. + +"I must save my strength for tomorrow," explained Mrs. Milo, and turned +with that benevolent smile. The next moment she flung up her hands. +"Susan!" + +Sue halted. "Ah-ha-a-a-a!" she cried triumphantly. "I thought it'd +surprise you, mother! Isn't it lovely? Isn't it beautiful? Isn't it +an improvement over that old gray satin of mine?" She came back to +stroll to and fro, parading. "As Ikey says, 'Ain't it peaches?'" + +"Tum-tum-tee-tum," hummed Balcome, in an attempt at the wedding-march. + +"Susan! Stop!" ordered Mrs. Milo. "Where, if you please, have you +come by such a dress?" + +Even Mrs. Balcome was listening, having forgotten her own troubles in +the double interest of the promised quarrel and the attractive costume. + +Sue arraigned Mr. Balcome with a finger. "Well, this nice person told +Hattie to order it for me from her dressmaker." + +"To land that parson," added Balcome, wickedly. + +"He gave me two," went on Sue, turning a chin over one shoulder in a +vain attempt to get a glimpse of her back. "The other one is +wonderful! I'm--I'm keeping the other one." + +"'Keeping the other one'?" repeated her mother. + +Sue tried the other shoulder. "Well, I--I might need it for something +special," she explained. + +"Will you please stop that performance?" demanded her mother. "My +daughter, the dress is ridiculous!" + +Sue stared. "Ridiculous?" + +"Showy--loud." + +"But--but it's my bridesmaid's dress." + +"I tell you, it's unsuited--a woman of forty-five! Please go and +change." + +"Oh, come now," put in Balcome, a little sharply. "You never think of +Sue as being forty-five." Then with a large wave of the hand in Sue's +direction, "What do you want to make her feel older than she is for?" + +"I had _no_ such intention," retorted Mrs. Milo, coldly--and +righteously. "On the contrary, I think Susan is well preserved." + +"Preserved!" gasped Sue, both hands to her head. + +"Preserved grandmother!" scoffed Balcome. "Sue looks like a bride +herself. Sue, when that parson gets his eye on you----" + +Mrs. Milo saw herself outdone. Her safety lay in harassing him. +"Speaking of eyes, Mr. Balcome," she said sweetly, "it strikes me that +yours look as if you'd been up all night." + +Mrs. Balcome rose to the stimulus. "Susan!" she summoned. + +"Yes, dear lady?" + +"You will kindly ask my husband----" + +"Go ahead, Mrs. Balcome," invited Sue, resignedly. And, turning an +imaginary handle, "Ting-a-ling-ling!" + +Mrs. Milo, beaming with satisfaction, made her way daintily to the +passage door. "I think I'll call the choir," she observed, and +disappeared. + +Like a war steed pawing the earth with impatient hoof, Mrs. Balcome +tapped the carpet. Her eye was set, her mouth was pursed. Though her +dress was of some soft material, she seemed fairly to bristle. "How +long has Hattie's father been in town?" she demanded. + +"But you don't care," reminded Sue. + +"How long?" persisted the other. + +With comical gravity, Sue turned upon Balcome. "How long has Hattie's +father been in town?" she echoed. And as he held up all the fingers of +one hand, "Oh, two--or three--or four"--a cautious testing of Mrs. +Balcome's temper. + +That lady's ample bosom rose and fell tempestuously. "And I've had +everything to do!" she complained; "--everything! Why haven't we seen +him before?" + +"Mister Man," questioned Sue, "why haven't we seen you before?" + +Balcome rubbed his hands together, chuckling. "Yes, why? Why?" + +"Business, Mrs. Balcome," parried Sue; "--press of business." + +"Business!" cried the elder woman, scornfully. "Huh!--and where is he +staying?" + +"But you said yourself, 'Where he is, or what he does'----" Then as +Mrs. Balcome rotated to stare at her resentfully, "Where is 'he' +staying, Mr. Balcome?" + +"Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" bellowed Balcome. Leaning, he imparted something +to Sue in a whisper. + +"Where?" persisted his wife. + +"He's at the Astor," declared Sue, and was swept with Balcome into a +gale of mirth. + +"Don't treat this as a joke, my dear Susan," warned Mrs. Balcome. + +"Oh, joke, Sue! Joke!" cried Balcome, flapping at Sue with his hat. +"If there's one thing I like to see in a woman it's a sense of humor." + +"Your husband appreciates your sense of humor," chanted Sue, returning +to her telephoning. + +"If there's one thing I like to see in a man," returned Mrs. Balcome, +"it's a sense of decency." + +"Your wife admires your sense of decency," continued the transmitter. + +"She talks about decency"--Balcome spoke confidentially--"and she +brings a pup to rehearsal." + +"She brings a darling doggie to rehearsal," translated Sue. + +By now, Mrs. Balcome was serenity itself. "A pup at rehearsal," she +observed, "is more acceptable than one man I could name." + +"Aw," began Balcome, reaching, as it were, for a suitable retort. + +Sue put up imploring hands. Hattie had just entered, having changed +from her wedding-dress. "Now, wait! This line is busy," she declared. +And to Hattie, "Oh, my dear, why didn't you arrange for two ceremonies!" + +"Do you mean bigamy?" inquired the girl, dryly, aware of the atmosphere +of trouble. + +"I mean one ceremony for father, and one for mother," answered Sue. + +Both belligerents advanced upon her. "Now, Susan," began Mrs. Balcome. +And "Look-a here!" exclaimed Balcome. + +The sad voice of Dora interrupted. From the vestibule she shook a +mournful head in a warning. "Someone is calling," she whispered. +"It's Miss Crosby." + +Like two combatants who have fought a round, the Balcomes parted, +retiring to opposite corners of the room. Dora, having satisfied +herself that quiet reigned, went out. + +Hattie stifled a yawn. "What is Miss Crosby going to sing, Sue?" she +asked indifferently. + +"'O Perfect Love.'" + +Balcome wheeled with a resounding flop of the hat. "O Perfect What?" +he demanded. + +"Love, Mr. Balcome,--L-O-V-E." + +"Ha-a-a!" cried Balcome. "I haven't heard that word in years!" + +Mrs. Balcome, stung again to action, swept forward to a renewed attack. +"He hasn't heard the word in years!" she scolded. And Balcome, +scolding in concert with her, "I don't think I'd recognize it if I saw +it."--"Through whose fault, I'd like to know?"--her voice topped her +husband's. + +"Please!" A changed Sue was speaking now, not playfully or +facetiously, or even patiently: her face was grave, her eyes were +angry. "Mrs. Balcome, kindly take your place in the Close, to the left +of the big door. Mr. Balcome, you will follow the choir." She waved +them out, and they went, both unaccountably meek. Those who knew Sue +Milo seldom saw this phase of her personality. Sue, the yielding, the +loving, the childlike, could, on occasions, shed all her softer +qualities and become, of a sudden, justly vengeful, full of wrath, and +unbending. Even her mother had, at rare intervals, seen this +phenomenon, and felt respect for it. + +Just now, having opened the passage door for the choir, Mrs. Milo had +scented something wrong, and was cautioning the boys in a whisper. +They came by twos across the room, curving their line a little to pass +near to Sue, and looking toward her with troubled eyes. This indeed +was a different Sue, in that strange dress, standing so tensely, with +averted face. + +When the last white gown was gone, Hattie laid her hand on Sue's arm. +"It's all right," she said gently. "Don't you care." + +Sue did not speak or move. + +"Dear Sue," pleaded the girl. + +Sue turned. In her look was pity for all that Hattie had borne of +bitterness and wrangling. And as a mother gathers a stricken child to +her breast, so she drew the other to her. "Oh, Hattie!" she murmured +huskily. "Go--go far. Put it all behind you forever! From now on, +Hattie, they can't hurt you any more--can't torture you any longer. +From now on, happiness, Hattie, happiness!" She dropped her head to +Hattie's shoulder. + +"There! There!" soothed the younger woman, tenderly. Someone was +entering--a girl with a music-roll under an arm. Nodding to the +newcomer, she covered the situation by ostentatiously tidying Sue's +hair. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"Dear Miss Crosby, I'm so glad to see you again!" + +Mrs. Milo came hurrying across the drawing-room to greet the soloist. + +Miss Crosby shook hands heartily. She was smartly dressed in a +wine-colored velveteen, the over-short skirt of which barely reached to +the tops of her freshly whitened spats. Her wide hat was tipped to a +rakish angle. She was young (twenty-eight or thirty at most, but she +looked less) and distinctly pretty. Her features were regular, her +face oval, if too thin--with the thinness of one who is underfed. And +this appearance of being poorly nourished showed in her skin, which was +pallid, except where she had touched it on cheeks and chin with rouge. +A neck a trifle too long and too lean was accentuated by a wide boyish +collar of some starched material. But her eyes were fine--not large, +but dark and lustrous under their black brows and heavy lashes. Worn +in waves that testified to the use of the curling-iron, her yellow hair +was in striking contrast to them. But this bright tint was plainly the +result of bleaching. And both hair and rouge served to emphasize lines +in her face that had not been made by time--lines of want, and +struggle, and suffering; lines of experience. These showed mostly +about her mouth, a thin mouth made more pronounced by the cautious use +of the lip-stick. + +"My dear," beamed Mrs. Milo, "are you singing away as hard as ever?" + +"Oh, I have a great many weddings," declared the other, with a note +that was somewhat bragging. + +Mrs. Milo looked down at the long, slender, ungloved hand still held in +one of hers. "Ah," she went on, playfully teasing, "but I see you're +not always going to sing at other girls' weddings." + +Miss Crosby pulled her hand free, and thrust it behind her among the +folds of her skirt. "Well,--I--I----" She gave a sudden frightened +look around, as if seeking some way of escape. + +Sue was quick to her rescue. "Don't you want to wait with the choir?" +she asked, waving a hand. "--You, too, Hattie." + +Mrs. Milo seemed not to notice the singer's confusion. And when the +latter disappeared with Hattie, she appealed to Sue, beaming with +excitement. "Did you notice?" she asked. "A solitaire! She's engaged +to be married!" + +"Married!" echoed Sue, and shook her head. + +"Oh, yes. You're thinking of the Balconies. Well, now you see why +I've never felt too badly about your not taking the step." + +"You mean that most marriages----?" + +"It's a lottery--a lottery." Mrs. Milo sighed. + +"But your marriage--yours and father's----" + +"My marriage was a great exception--a very great exception." + +"And there's Hattie and Wallace," went on Sue. "Oh, it would be too +terrible----" + +"There are few men as good as my son," said Mrs. Milo, proudly; "--you +darling boy!" For Wallace had entered the room. + +He came to them quickly. His pale face was unwontedly anxious. + +"Is anything wrong?" questioned Sue. + +"No," he declared. But his whole manner belied his words. "Only--only +there'll be a change tomorrow--an outside minister." + +"_What?_" exclaimed Mrs. Milo. And to Sue, "Didn't I tell you!" + +"But if Mr. Farvel doesn't wish to officiate," she argued. + +Her brother caught at the suggestion. "Exactly," he said. "He doesn't +wish." + +"What's the matter with him?" demanded Mrs. Milo, harshly. + +"He has a reason," explained Wallace, in a tone that was meant to cut +off further inquiry. + +"A reason? Indeed! And what is it? Isn't dear Hattie to be +consulted?" + +Wallace put out his hands imploringly. "Hattie won't care," he argued. +"And, oh, mother, let's not worry her about it!" + +Mrs. Milo smiled wisely. "I've always said," she reminded, turning to +Sue, "that there's something about Mr. Farvel that--well----" She +shrugged. + +Wallace's hands were opening and shutting almost convulsively. +"Mother," he begged, "can I see Sue alone?" + +Mrs. Milo's eyes softened with understanding. "My baby, of course." +She kissed him fondly and hurried out to join Mrs. Balcome. His +request was a familiar one. He called upon his sister not infrequently +for financial help, and to his mother it was a point greatly in his +favor that he shrank from asking for money in the presence of any third +person. + +His mother gone, Wallace turned to Sue. She had the same thought +concerning the nature of what was troubling him; for he looked +harassed--worn and pathetically helpless. He was more stooped than +usual. The sight of him touched Sue's heart. + +"Well, old brother," she said tenderly, putting a hand on his arm. "Is +the bridegroom short of cash? Now that would never do. And you know +I'm always ready----" + +"Not that," he answered; "--not this time. I'm all right. It's--Alan." + +"He's not happy!" + +"No." Wallace glanced away. "But it's--it's an old story." + +"Can I help him?" + +He shook his head. "Nobody can do anything. We'll just change +ministers." + +She struggled against the next question. "It's about a--a girl?" + +As if startled, he stared at her. "What makes you say that?" + +"Well, I--I don't know." She laughed a little, embarrassed. "But most +men at his age----" + +"Well, it is about a girl," he admitted. "She disappeared--oh, nine or +ten years ago." + +"I--see." + +"But don't say anything to Hattie about it. She likes Farvel. +And--and she isn't any too enthusiastic about marrying me." + +A smile came back into Sue's gray eyes. "My dear brother!" she +exclaimed. + +"Oh, I'm not blind." + +Sue addressed the room. "Our young mining-engineer," she observed with +mock gravity, "'he is jealousy'." + +Wallace was trembling. "I love her," he said half-brokenly; "I love +her better than anything else in the world! But--but did you see her +look at him? when she had her wedding-dress on, and he and I came in?" + +"Wallace!"--pity and reproval mingled in Sue's tone. Again she laid a +hand on his sleeve. "Oh, don't let doubt or--or anything enter your +heart now--at this wonderful hour of your life--oh, Wallace, when +you're just beginning all your years with her! Your marriage must be +happy! Marriages can be happy--I know it! They're not all like her +mother's. But don't start wrong! Oh, don't start wrong!" There were +tears in her eyes. + +Farvel came in from the Church. He was himself again, and slammed the +door quite cheerily. + +Wallace turned almost as if to intercept him. "I've fixed everything, +old man," he said quickly. "It's all right." + +"But I can officiate as well as not," urged Farvel, passing the younger +man by and coming to Sue. "I don't want you to think I'm notional." + +"She won't," declared Wallace, before Sue could speak. "I've +explained." + +"Ah." Farvel nodded, satisfied. "You--you know, then. Well, I've +always wanted you to know." + +She tried to smile back at him, to find an answer. + +Her brother was urging Farvel to go. "You'll find someone to marry us, +won't you?" he begged. "Right away, Alan?" + +"Oh, I understand," said Farvel. "I'd be a damper, wouldn't I?" + +"Oh, no! Not that!" + +Farvel laid a hand on Wallace's shoulder. "He feels as bad about it as +I do, dear old fellow!" he said. + +The other moved away a step, and as if to take Farvel with him. "Yes, +Alan. Yes. But don't talk about it today. Not today." + +Farvel crossed to the sofa and sat down. "I know," he admitted. "But +today--this wedding--I don't--I can't seem to get her out of my mind." +Then as if moved by a poignant thought, he bent his head and covered +his face with both hands. + +Sue was beside him at once. And dropped to a knee. "Oh, I wish I +could help you," she said comfortingly. + +Farvel did not look up. He began to speak in a muffled voice. "What +did I do to deserve it?" he asked brokenly. "That's what I ask myself. +What did I do?" + +"Nothing!" she answered. "Nothing! Oh, don't blame yourself." Her +hand went up to touch one of his. + +He uncovered his face and looked at her. He seemed to have aged all at +once. "Oh, forgive me," he pleaded. "I don't want to worry you." + +A gasping cry came from a door across the room. Mrs. Milo had entered, +and was standing staring at the two in amazement and anger. "Susan +Milo!" she cried. + +"Oh!" Without rising, Sue began to pick up bits of smilax dropped from +the florist's basket. "Yes, mother?" she replied inquiringly. + +Mrs. Milo hurried forward. "What _are_ you doing on your knees?" + +"Mother dear," returned Sue, "did you ever see anything like smilax to +get all over the place?" Her voice trembled like the voice of a child +caught in wrongdoing. "One little bit here--one little bit there----" + +"Get up," ordered her mother, curtly. And as Sue rose, "What's the +matter with you, Mr. Farvel? Are you sick?" + +"Mother!"--it was a low appeal. + +Farvel rose, a trifle wearily. "No," he answered, meeting the angry +look of the elder woman calmly. "I am not sick." + +Mrs. Milo turned to vent her wrath upon Sue. "I declare I don't know +what to think of you," she scolded. "Down on the carpet, making an +exhibition of yourself!" + +Sue's look beseeched Farvel. "Don't stay for rehearsal," she said. +"Find another clergyman." + +"That's best," he answered; "yes." + +Mrs. Milo broke in upon them, not able to control herself. "Where's +your dignity?" she demanded of Sue. "Acting like a romantic +schoolgirl--a great, overgrown woman." + +Farvel bowed to Sue with formality, ignoring her mother. "You're very +kind," he said. "I'm grateful." With Wallace following, he went out +by the door leading to the Church. + +Instantly Mrs. Milo grew more calm. She seated herself with something +of a judicial air. "Now, what's this all about?" she asked. "You know +that I don't like a mystery." + +Sue came to stand before her mother. And again her attitude was not +that of one woman talking to another, but that of a child, anxious to +excuse a fault. "Well,--well," she began haltingly, "someone he cared +for--disappeared." + +"Cared for," repeated Mrs. Milo, instant relief showing in her tone. +"Ah, indeed! A girl, I suppose?" + +"Y-y-yes." + +Still more pleased, her mother leaned back, smiling. "And she +disappeared, did she? Well, I don't wonder he's so secret about it. +Ha! ha!"--that well-bred, rippling laugh. + +Sue stared down at her. "You mean----" she asked; "you mean----" + +Mrs. Milo lifted her eyebrows. "My daughter," she answered, "don't you +know that there's only one reason why a girl drops out of sight?" + +In amazement Sue fell back a step. "Mother!" she cried. Then turned +abruptly, and went out into the Close. + +Mrs. Milo stood up, on her face conscious guilt for her suspicion and +her lack of charity. But she was appalled--almost stunned. Never in +all her life before had her daughter left her in such a way. "I +declare!" burst forth the elder woman. "I declare!" Then following +Sue a few steps, and calling after her through the open door, "Well, +what fills that basket out there? And what fills our Orphanage?" And +more weakly, but still in an effort to justify herself, "What--what +other reason can you suggest, I'd like to know! And--and it's just +plain, common sense!" She came back to stand alone, staring before +her. Then she sank to a chair. + +Wallace returned. "Where's Sue, mother?" he asked. + +"What?--Oh, it's you, darling? She--she stepped out." + +"Out?" + +"Into the Close." + +"Oh." He hurried across the room. + +Mrs. Milo fluttered to her feet. "I--I can't have that choir in the +library any longer," she declared decisively. And left the room. + +Sue entered in answer to her brother's call, and came straight to him. +She had forgotten her anger by now; her look was anxious. + +"Sue, let's go ahead with the rehearsal," he begged. + +"Wallace,"--she gripped both of his wrists, as if she were determined +to hold him until she had the answers she sought--"you knew her--that +girl?" + +He averted his eyes. "Why, yes." + +She spoke very low. "Was she--sweet?" + +"Yes; sweet,"--with a note of impatience. + +"Light--or dark?" + +"Rather dark." Again he showed irritation. + +"Was she--was she pretty?" + +"She was beautiful." + +Her hands fell. She turned away. "And she dropped right out of his +life," she said, as if to herself. Then coming about suddenly, "Why, +Wallace? You don't know?" + +"I--do--not--know." He dragged at his hair with a nervous hand. + +She lowered her voice again. "Wallace,--she--she didn't have to go?" + +Her brother made a gesture of angry impatience. "Oh, I'm disappointed +in you!" he cried. "I thought you were different from other women. +But you're just as quick to think wrong!" + +She brought her hands together; and a look, wistful and appealing, gave +to her face that curiously childlike expression. "Well, influence of +the basket," she admitted ruefully, and hung her head. + +He thrust his hands into his pockets sulkily, and turned his back. + +Mrs. Balcome came puffing in. "Say, you know dear Babette is getting +very tired," she announced pettishly. "And I wish----" + +As if in answer to her complaining, there came a burst of song. The +library door swung wide. And forward, with serene and uplifted faces, +came the choir, singing the wedding-march. Each cotta swayed in time. + +Balcome and Hattie followed the procession, the former scolding. +"Well, are we rehearsing at last, or what are we doing?" he demanded as +he passed Sue. + +Mrs. Balcome shook with laughter. "Fancy anybody being such a dolt as +to rehearse without a minister!" she scoffed. + +The choir filed out, and their song came floating back from the Close. +Miss Crosby entered and went to Sue. "Miss Milo, don't I sing before +the ceremony?" she asked. + +Sue roused herself with a shake of the head and a helpless laugh. +"Well, you see how much _I_ know about weddings," she answered. "Now, +I'm going to introduce the bridegroom." Wallace was beside Hattie, +leaning over her with anxious devotion, and whispering. Sue pulled at +his sleeve. "Wallace," she said, "you haven't met Miss Crosby." And +to Miss Crosby as he turned, a little annoyed at being interrupted, +"This is the lucky man." + +Miss Crosby's expression was one of polite interest. Wallace, trying +to smile, bowed. Then their eyes met---- + +"A-a-a-aw!" It was a strange, strangling cry--like the terrified cry of +some dumb thing, suddenly cornered. Miss Crosby's mouth opened wide, +her eyes bulged. Upon her dead white face in startling contrast stood +out the three spots of rouge. + +"Laura!" gasped Wallace. + +For a moment they stood thus, facing each other. Then with a rush the +girl went, her arms thrown out as if to fend off any who might seek to +detain her. She pulled the door to the vestibule against herself as if +she were half-blinded, stumbled around it, slammed it shut behind her, +and was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +With Clare Crosby's sudden departure, the group in the Rectory +drawing-room stood in complete silence for a moment, astonished and +staring. Wallace, with his hands to his face, was like a man +half-stunned. + +Outside in the Close, the choir, having come to a halt, was rendering +the Wedding March with great gusto--proof positive that the +choirmaster, at least, made an audience for the twelve. Above the +chorus of young voices pealed that one most perfect--the bird-sweet +voice of Ikey Einstein, devoid of its accent by some queer miracle of +song. It dipped and soared with the melody, as sure and strong and +true as a bugle. + +"Well!" It was Mrs. Milo who spoke first--Mrs. Milo, who could put so +much meaning into a single word. Now she expressed disapproval and +amazement; more: that one exclamatory syllable, as successfully as if +it had been an extended utterance, not only hinted, but openly avowed +her belief in the moral turpitude of the young woman who had just +reeled so blindly through the door. + +"Wallace!" Sue went to her brother. + +"Now, what's the row!" demanded Balcome, irritably, looking around for +his hat, which Hattie had taken from him in order to make him more +presentable for the rehearsal. + +"I suppose _I've_ done something," ventured Mrs. Balcome, plaintively. + +Mrs. Milo hastened to the door leading to the lawn, spied the +choirmaster, waved a wigwag at him with her handkerchief, and shut the +door. The singing stopped. + +She came fluttering back. Always, when something unforeseen and +unpleasant happened, it was Mrs. Milo's habit to accept the occurrence +as aimed purposely at her and her happiness. So now her attitude was +one of patient forbearance. "I told you, Hattie," she reminded; "--bad +luck if Wallace saw you in your wedding-dress today." + +Wallace had slipped to a seat on the sofa, leaning his head on a hand, +and shaking like a man with a chill. Now, at mention of Hattie's name, +he sprang up, went to her, getting between her and his mother, and +putting an arm about the girl as if to protect her. "It has nothing to +do with Hattie," he declared, his eyes blazing. "Nothing, I tell you! +And you're trying to make trouble!" + +"If you please," interrupted Sue, quietly, "you're speaking to your +mother." + +But Mrs. Milo was amply able to take care of herself--by the usual +method of putting any opponent instantly on the defensive. "So it has +nothing to do with Hattie?" she returned. "Well, perhaps it has +something to do with _you_." + +Wallace's tall figure stiffened, as if from an electric shock. His +lips drew back from his clenched teeth in something that was like a +grin. + +Hattie took a long step, freeing herself from his arm. + +"Or perhaps"--Mrs. Milo's glance had traveled to Sue--"perhaps it has +something to do with Mr. Farvel." + +"I won't discuss Alan behind his back," retorted Wallace, hotly. + +"A-a-a-ah!"--this with a gratified nod. She felt that she had forced +the knowledge she wanted, namely that the going of the soloist had +something to do with the clergyman. "Well,"--smiling--"I think I have +an idea." With a beckon to Mrs. Balcome, she made toward the hall. + +Mrs. Balcome came rolling after, the dog worn high against the crêpe +cascade. "Perhaps it's just as well that Miss Crosby went," she +observed from the door. "Of course, we could screen her with palms. +But I think she'd take away from Hattie tomorrow. She's _much_ too +pretty--much." + +"Puh!" snorted Balcome. He went to slam the door after her. + +Now, Hattie turned upon Wallace with sudden intensity. "What has Miss +Crosby to do with Mr. Farvel?" she demanded. + +"But does it make any difference, Hattie?" put in Sue, quickly; "--as +long as it isn't your Wallace. It doesn't, of course. Mr. Farvel has +his own personal affairs, and they're no business of ours--none +whatever. Are they? No. And Miss Crosby is charming, and pretty, +and--and sweet." Now she in turn faced round upon her brother. +"But--but what _has_ Miss Crosby to do with Mr. Farvel?" + +"Does it make, any difference to you?" countered Hattie. + +"Of course not, Hattie!--Foolish question nine million and +nine!--Wallace, she's--she's not--the girl? You know." + +He reddened angrily. "She is not!" he exploded. But as Sue, showing +plain distrust in his answer, turned toward the passage as if to go in +search of Farvel, he caught at her arm almost fiercely--and fearfully. +"Oh, no! Not yet!" he begged. "Please, Sue!" + +"I believe he ought to know," she declared. + +"Do you want him to give up this Church?" he cried. And as she came +back slowly, "Oh, trust me, Sue! It's something I can't tell you. But +I'm right about it.--Sh!" For Mrs. Milo had re-entered, on her +countenance unmistakable signs of triumphant pleasure. + +"Ah-ha!" exclaimed that lady, as she hurried forward. "I thought there +was something queer about that Crosby girl!" + +"Why, mother dear!" expostulated Sue. "I've heard you say she was such +a lady--so refined----" + +"Please don't contradict me!" + +"I beg your pardon." + +Mrs. Milo glanced from one to another of the little group, saving her +news, preparing for a good effect. "Mrs. Balcome and I have just +solved the Farvel mystery," she announced. "We looked at that +photograph in the bureau again, and--it's Miss Crosby's picture." + +"Haw-haw!" roared Balcome, with a scornful flop of the hat. + +Sue went close to her brother. "Then she is the girl who disappeared," +she said under her breath. + +"Well--yes." + +"And she'll go again! She'll be lost!" She started toward the hall. + +"Susan!" cried her mother, peremptorily. And as Sue halted, "We want +nothing to do with that girl. Come back." + +"What harm could come of my going?" argued Sue. + +"That is not the question." + +"Mother, I don't like to oppose you, but in this case----" + +"I shall not allow it," said her mother, decisively. + +"Then I must go against your wishes." Sue opened the door. + +"I forbid it, I tell you!" That note of shrillness now appeared in +Mrs. Milo's voice. + +"Oh, mother!" Sue came back a little way. "Don't treat me like a +child!" + +Now Mrs. Milo became all gentleness once more. She put a hand on Sue's +arm. "Your mother is the best judge of your actions," she reminded. +"And she wants you to stay." + +Sue backed. "No; I'm sorry," she answered. "In all my life I can't +remember disobeying you once. But today I must." Again she started. + +"My daughter!" Mrs. Milo's voice broke pathetically. "You--you mean +you won't respect my wishes?" + +Checked by that sign of tears so near, again Sue halted, but without +turning. "I want to help her," she urged, a little doggedly. + +"But your mother," went on Mrs. Milo, "--my feelings--my love--are you +going to trample them under foot?" + +"Oh, not that!" + +Mrs. Milo fell to weeping. "Oh, what do you care for my peace of +mind!" she mourned. "For my heartache!" + +It brought Sue to her mother's side. "Why! Why!" She put an arm +about the elder woman tenderly. + +Mrs. Milo dropped to a chair. "This is the child I bore!" she sobbed. +"I've devoted my whole life to her! And now--oh, if your dear father +knew! If he could only see----" Words failed her. She buried her +face in her handkerchief. + +Sue knelt at her side. "Oh, mother! Mother!" she comforted. "Hush, +dear! Hush!" + +"I'm going to be ill," wept Mrs. Milo. "I know I am! My nerves can't +stand it! But it's just as well"--mournfully. "I'm in your way. I +can see that. And it's t-t-t-time that I died!" She shook +convulsively. + +Commands, arguments, appeals, tears--how often Mrs. Milo and her +daughter went through the several steps of just such a scene as this. +Exactly that often, Sue capitulated, as she capitulated now, with eyes +brimming. + +"Ah, don't say that, mother," she pleaded. "You'll break my heart! +You're my whole life--with Wallace away, why I've got nobody else in +the whole world!" And looking up, "Wallace, you go." + +Instantly Mrs. Milo's weeping quieted. + +"Today?" asked her brother, impatiently. + +"Yes, now! Right away!" Sue got to her feet. + +"Oh, Sue, there's no rush!" + +Mrs. Milo, suddenly dry-eyed, came to her son's rescue. "And why +should Wallace go?" she asked. "Mr. Farvel is the one." + +"No! No!" he cried, scowling at her. "I won't have Alan worried." + +"Mm!" commented Mrs. Milo, ruffled at having her good offices so little +appreciated. "You're very considerate." + +"I understand the matter better than anyone else," he explained, trying +to speak more politely. "Alan can't even bear to talk about it. +So--I'll go." + +Sue turned to Balcome. "And you go with him," she suggested. + +"But why?"--again it was a nervous, frightened protest. + +Sue nodded toward Hattie, standing so slim and still beside her father. +"So my little sister will feel all right about it," she explained. +"Because nothing, Wallace, must worry her. It's her happiness we want +to think of, isn't it?--dear Hattie's." + +"Oh, yes! Yes!" + +"The address--I'll write it down." She bent over the desk. + +Wallace went to Hattie. "Good-by," he said, tremulously. "I'll be +right back." He leaned to kiss her, but she turned her face away. His +lips brushed only her cheek. + +Sue thrust the address into his hand. "Here. And, oh, Wallace, be +very kind to her!" + +"Of course. Yes. I'll do what I can." But he seemed scarcely to know +what he was saying. He fingered the card Sue had given him, and +watched Hattie. + +Urging him toward the vestibule, Sue glanced down at her bridesmaid's +dress, then searchingly about the room--for a hat, a wrap. "And bring +them together--won't you?" she went on, taking Balcome's arm. At the +door, she crowded in front of him. + +"Susan," challenged her mother. + +"Yes, mother,"--coming short, with a whimsically comical look that +acknowledged discovery and defeat. + +"They can find their way out. Come back." + +Sue came. "But I could go with them, and not see Miss Crosby." Once +more that note of childlike pleading. "I could just wait near by." + +"Wait here, Susan.--Oh, I realize that you could be there and back +before I'd know it." + +Sue laughed. "Oh, she's a smart little mother!" she said fondly. +"Yes, she is!" + +"She knows your tricks," retorted Mrs. Milo, wisely. "You'd even +trapse out in that get-up.--Please don't fidget while I'm talking." + +Seeing that it was impossible for her to get away, Sue sat down +resignedly. "Well, as Ikey says," she observed, "'sometimes t'ings go +awful fine, und sometimes she don't.'" + +Now, Farvel came breezing in. "I've found a minister, Miss Milo," he +announced. Then realizing that something untoward had happened, +"Why,--where's Wallace?" + +"He has followed Miss Crosby," answered Mrs. Milo, speaking the name +with exaggerated distinctness. + +"Miss Crosby?" Farvel was puzzled. + +"Miss--_Clare_--Crosby." + +He turned to Sue, and she rose and came to him--smiling, and with a +certain confidential air that was calculated either to rescue him from +a catechism or to result in her own banishment from the room. "Do you +know that you haven't dictated this morning's letters?" she asked. And +touching him on the arm, "Shan't we go into the library now?" + +"Susan," purred Mrs. Milo. + +"Yes, mother." But Sue, halting beside Farvel, continued to talk to +him animatedly, in an undertone. + +"Will you kindly see that Dora understands about dinner preparations?" + +"Hattie, do you mind ringing?" + +Mrs. Milo held up a slender hand to check Hattie. "Susan," she went +on, patiently, "do you want your mother to do the trotting after the +servants?" + +"No, mother. But Mr. Farvel's letters----" + +Now that quick, mechanical smile, and Mrs. Milo tipped her head to one +side as she regarded the clergyman in pretty concern. "Mr. Farvel is +in no mood for dictation," she declared gently; "and--I am quite +exhausted, as you know." But as Sue hurried away, not lifting her +eyes, lest she betray how glad she was to be dismissed, her mother +rose--and there was no appearance of the complained-of exhaustion. Her +eyes shone with eagerness. They fastened themselves on Farvel's face. +"That Miss Crosby," she began; "--she came, recognized Wallace, gave a +cry--and ran." + +Farvel listened politely. Mrs. Milo was so prone to be dramatic. +There was scarcely a day that some warning of Wolf! Wolf! did not ring +through the Rectory. "Well, what seemed to be the matter?" he asked. + +"I thought you might know,"--with just a trace of emphasis on the You. + +"I don't," he assured her, quietly. + +"Then why not go yourself--and get the facts?" + +"Wallace didn't ask me." + +There was something in the tone of his reply that brought the blood to +her cheeks. She replied to it by making her own tone a little chiding. +"But as my boy's oldest friend," she reminded. + +Farvel laughed. "Friend?" he repeated. "He's more like a younger +brother to me. But that doesn't warrant my intruding on him, does it?" + +Mrs. Milo lifted her eyebrows. "I hope," she commented, with something +of that same sorrowful intonation which characterized the speech of +Dora, "--I hope there's no reason why you shouldn't meet this Crosby +girl." + +Farvel stared at her. "I?" he demanded, too astonished by her daring +to be angry. "Why--why----" + +At this juncture the library door opened and Dora entered, to set the +room to rights apparently, for she gave a critical look about, arranged +the writing-desk, and put a chair in place. + +"Dora," said Mrs. Milo, "you saw Miss Susan?" + +Dora lifted pale eyes. "Oh, yes," she answered, "but only a fleeting +glimpse." + +"Glimpse?" repeated Mrs. Milo, startled. + +"From the rear portal"--with an indefinite wave of the hand--"she +turned that way." + +"Oh! She went! To that Crosby girl! And I forbade her!--Mr. Farvel, +come!" + +"But I'm not wanted," urged the clergyman. + +"Why do you hold back? Don't I want you?" + +Farvel pondered a moment, his look on Hattie, standing in the +bay-window, now, alert but motionless. "Well, I'll come," he said at +last. + +"Dora!" cried Mrs. Milo, as she fluttered hallward; "my bonnet!" + +Dora had gone by the same door through which she had come. Hattie and +Farvel were alone. She turned and came to stand beside him. "Why do +you suppose----" she commenced; and then, more bluntly, "What was the +matter with Miss Crosby?" + +Farvel studied her face for a moment, his own full of anxious sympathy. +"I can't imagine," he said, finally; "but whatever it is you may be +sure of one thing--Wallace isn't to blame." + +Hattie's look met his. "It's queer, isn't it?" she said; "but +that--well, that doesn't seem to be troubling me at all." Then for no +reason whatever, she put out her hand. He took it, instantly touched. +Her eyes were glistening with tears. She turned and went out into the +Close. + +Farvel stood for a moment gazing after her. Then remembering his +promise to Mrs. Milo, he hastened in the direction of his study. + +As the hall door shut after him, the library door swung wide, and Dora +came bouncing in, waving an arm joyously. "Your path is clear!" she +announced. + +At her back was Sue, looking properly guilty, and scrambling into a +coat that would hide the bridesmaid's dress. "Just what did you tell +mother?" she inquired. + +"I said you went that way,"--with a jerk of the head that set the tight +braids to bobbing. + +"Oh, what did you tell her that for!" mourned Sue. "It's the way I +must go!" + +"It is the truth," said Dora, solemnly, "and, oh, Miss +Susan,"--chanting--"'a lying tongue is but for a moment.'" + +"I know," answered Sue, exasperated; "'a lying tongue is but for a +moment,' and 'deceitful men shall not live out half their days,' but, +Dora, this is a desperate case. So you find my mother and tell her +that--that I'm probably downstairs in the basement,--er--er--well, I +might be setting the mouse-trap." And giving Dora an encouraging push +in the direction of the hall, Sue disappeared on swift foot into the +vestibule. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Miss Mignon St. Clair was affectionately, and familiarly, known as +Tottie. About thirty, and thus well past the first freshness of youth, +she was one of that great host of women who inadvertently and +pathetically increase the look of bodily and nervous wear and tear by +the exaggerated use of cosmetics--under the comforting delusion that +these have just the opposite effect. With her applications of +liquid-white and liquid-red, Tottie invariably achieved the almost +grotesque appearance of having dressed in the dark. + +In taking as it were a final stand against the passing of her girlhood, +Miss St. Clair had gone further than most. First, in very desperation, +she had colored her graying mouse-tinted hair a glowing red; and then, +as a last resort, had heroically, but with mistaken art, bobbed it. + +The effect, if weird, added to the lady's striking appearance. With +glasses, and an unbelted Mother Hubbard gown made out of antiqued gold +cloth, she might have passed for a habitué of the pseudo-artistic +colony that made its headquarters not far away from her domicile. But +such was her liking for jewelry, and plenty of it, and for gowns not +loose but clinging, that, invariably equipped with an abundant supply +of toothsome gum, she looked less the blue-stocking, or the anarchistic +reformer, than what she aimed to resemble--a flaming-tressed actress +(preferably of the vampire type), a shining "star." + +But such are the tricks of Fate, that Tottie, outwardly and in spirit +the true "artiste," was--as a plain matter of fact--a landlady, who +kept "roomers" at so much per week. + +Her rooming-house was one of those four-story-and-basement +brownstone-front affairs with brownstone steps (and a service-entrance +under the steps) that New York put up by the thousands several decades +ago, and considered fashionable. + +The house, therefore, was like every other house on the block. But to +the observant passerby, one thing identified it. The basements of its +neighbors were given over to various activities--commercial and +otherwise. There were basements that were bakeries, or delicatessen +shops, or dusty second-hand-book stores, or flower stalls. And not a +few were used still for their primary purpose--the housing, more or +less comfortably, of humans. The St. Clair house was distinguished by +the fact that its front room on the basement level (the servants' +living-room of better days) was rented for the accommodation of a +"hand" laundry. + +Often Miss St. Clair felt called upon to apologize for that laundry--at +least to explain its presence. "Some of my friends say, 'Oh, my dear, +a _laundry_!' But as I say, 'You can't put high-class people in the +basement; and high-class people is the only people I'll have around. +Furthermore, I can't leave the basement empty. And ain't cleanyness +next to goodness? And what's cleaner'n a laundry? Besides, it's handy +to have one so close.'" + +The interior of the building was typical. Its front-parlor, the only +room not "let," was high-ceilinged and of itself marked the house as +one that had been pretentious in its day. It boasted the usual +bay-window, a marble fireplace and a fine old chandelier with +drop-crystal ornaments--all these eloquent of the splendor that was +past. Double doors led to the back-parlor, which was the dining-room +of earlier times. + +There was the characteristic hall, with stairs leading down under +stairs that led up, these last to rooms shorn of their former glory, +and now graduated in price, and therefore in importance, first, by +virtue of their outlook--their position as to front or rear; and, +second, in reference to their distance above the street. The front +stairs ended in a newel post that supported a bronze figure holding +aloft a light--a figure grotesquely in contrast to the "hall stand," +with its mirror and its hat hooks and its Japanese umbrella receptacle. + +The pride of Miss St. Clair's heart was that "front-parlor." And upon +it she had "slathered" a goodly sum--with a fond generosity that was +wholly mistaken, since her purchases utterly ruined the artistic value +of whatever the room possessed of good. She had papered its walls in +red (one might have said with the idea of matching the background with +her hair); but the paper bore a conventional pattern--in the same +tone--which was so wrought with circles and letter S's that at a quick +glance the wall seemed fairly to be a-crawl. And she had hung the +bay-window with cheap lace curtains, flanked at either side by other +curtains of a heavy material and a flashy pattern. + +The fireplace had suffered no less than the window. On its mantel was +the desecrating plaster statuette of a diving-girl--tinted in various +pastel shades; this between two vases of paper flowers. And above the +fireplace, against the writhing wall paper, hung a chromo entitled "The +Lorelei"--three maidens divested of apparel as completely as was the +diving-girl, but hedged about by a garish gold frame. + +However, it was in the matter of furniture that Miss St. Clair had +sinned the most. This furniture consisted of one of those +perpetrations, one of those crimes against beauty and comfort, that is +known as a "set." It comprised a "settee," a "rocker," an armchair, +and a chair without arms--all overlaid with a bright green, silky +velour that fiercely fought the red wall paper and the landlady's hair. + +At this hour of the morning, the room was empty, save for a bird and a +rag doll in long dresses. A sash of the bay-window was raised, and the +cheap lace curtains were blowing back before a light breeze. Against +the curtains, swinging high out of the way of the breeze, was a gilded +cage of generous size, holding a green-and-yellow canary. + +The other occupant of the room was propped up carefully on the chair +without arms. To its right, hanging from the chair back, was a little +girl's well-worn coat; to its left, suspended from an elastic, was an +equally shabby hat. And the pitiful condition of doll, coat, and hat +was sharply accentuated by the background of the chair's verdant nap. + +The doll's eyes were shoe buttons, of an ox-blood shade. They stared +redly at the chirping canary. + +The stairs creaked, and a woman came bustling down--a youngish woman +with "rural" written in her over-long, over-full skirt, her bewreathed +straw hat, and her three-quarters coat that testified to faithful +service. Her face showed glad excitement. She pulled on cotton gloves +as she came, and glanced upward over a shoulder. + +"Tottie!--Tottie!" + +"Hoo-hoo!" Miss St. Clair was in a jovial mood. + +"Somebody's at the front door." The velour rocker held a half-dozen +freshly wrapped packages, spoil of an earlier shopping expedition. +Mrs. Colter gathered the packages together. + +The bell began to ring more insistently, and with a certain rhythm. +Tottie came down, in a tea-gown that was well past its prime, and that +held the same relation to her abundant jewelry that marble fireplace +and crystal chandelier sustained to her ornate furniture. "Don't go +for just a minute, Mrs. Colter," she suggested, rotating her +chewing-gum, and adjusting a flowered silk shawl. + +There was a boy at the front door, a capped and uniformed urchin with a +special delivery letter. "Miss Clare Crosby live here?" he inquired. +Behind his back, in his other hand, the butt of a cigarette sent up a +fragrant thread of smoke. + +"You bet,"--and Miss St. Clair relieved him of the letter he proffered. +He went down the steps at an alarming gait, and she came slowly into +the parlor, studying the letter, feeling it inquiringly. + +"I'm goin' to finish my tradin'," informed Mrs. Colter. "It'll be six +months likely before I git down to N'York again." + +"You oughta let Clare know when you're comin'," declared Tottie, +holding the letter up to the light. + +"Oh, well, I won't start home till she gits in. You know there's +trains every hour to Poughkeepsie." Having gathered her bundles +together, Mrs. Colter carried them into the back-parlor. + +Left alone, Tottie lost no further time. To pry the letter open and +unfold it was the swift work of a thumb and finger made dexterous by +long use of the cigarette. "'_Great news, my darling!_'" she read. +"'_The firm says----_'" + +But Mrs. Colter was returning. "I'll be back from the store in no +time," she announced as she came; "only want to git a bon-bon spoon and +a pickle fork." Then calling through the double doors, "Come, Barbara!" + +Tottie, having returned the letter to its envelope and resealed it, now +set it against the diving-girl on the mantelpiece. "What you doin'?" +she inquired; "blowin' the kid's board money?" + +"Board money!" cried Mrs. Colter. "Why, Miss Crosby ain't paid me for +two weeks.--Barbara!" + +"Yes," answered a child's voice. + +"Well, she's behind with me a whole month," returned Tottie, "and you +know I let her have a room here just to be accommodatin'. The stage is +my perfession, Mrs. Colter. Oh, yes, I've played with most all of the +big ones. And as I say, I don't have to take roomers. Why, I rented +this house just so's I could entertain my theatrical friends." + +Mrs. Colter took out and put back her hatpins. "It must be grand to be +a' actress!" she observed longingly. + +"Well, it ain't so bad. For one thing, you can pick a name you like. +Now, I think mine is real swell. 'What'll we call y'?' says my first +manager. Y' see, my own name wouldn't do, specially as I'm a +dancer--Hopwell; ain't that fierce? Tottie Hopwell! I never could +live that down. So I says to him, 'Well, call me Mignon--Mignon St. +Clair.'" + +Mrs. Colter gazed at her hostess wide-eyed. "Oh, it's grand!" she +breathed. "--Barbara, _come_!" + +"I'm coming." + +On flagging feet, the child came out. She was small--not over nine at +the most--with thin little legs, and a figure too slender for her +years. Her dress was a gingham, very much faded. One untied lace of +her patched shoes whipped from side to side as she walked. + +But it was not the poorness of her dress that made her a pathetic +picture as she halted, looking at Mrs. Colter. It was her face--a +grave, little face, thin, and lacking childish color. Upon it were a +few stray, pale freckles. + +Yet it was not a plain face, and about it fell her hair, brown and +abundant, in gleaming curls and waves. Her eyes were lovely--large, +and a dark, almost a purplish, blue. They were wise beyond the age of +their owner, and sad. They told of tears shed, of wordless appeal, but +also of patient endurance of little troubles. Her brows had an upward +turn at the center which gave her a quaint, questioning look. Her +mouth was tucked in at either corner, lending a wistful expression that +was habitual. + +"Barbara, come, hurry," urged Mrs. Colter, holding out the child's hat. + +But Barbara hung back. "Where's Aunt Clare?" she asked. + +"I tell you, Aunt Clare ain't home yet." + +Now, Barbara retreated. "Oh, I want to stay here, to see her. Please, +please." + +"Look how you act!" complained Mrs. Colter, helplessly. + +Tottie came to the rescue. "Say, I'll keep a' eye on the kid." + +"Oh, will you?" cried Mrs. Colter, gratefully. + +"Sure. Leave her." + +"That's mighty nice of you.--And you be a good girl, Barbara." + +"I will," promised the child, settling herself upon the settee with a +happy smile. + +A bell rang. "Ah, there she is now!" exclaimed Mrs. Colter, and as +Barbara sprang up, she ran to her and hastily tidied the gingham dress. + +But Tottie was giving a touch to her appearance at the hall mirror. +"Nope," she declared over a shoulder. "She's got a key." + +Though she heard the bell again, and it was now ringing impatiently, +Mrs. Colter was not convinced. She knelt before Barbara, straightening +a washed-out ribbon that stood up limply above the brown curls. "Now, +come! Quiet!" she admonished. + +Out of the pocket of the gingham, Barbara had brought a small and +withered nosegay. There were asters in it, and a torn and woeful +carnation. "See!" she cried. "I'm going to give Aunt Clare all these." + +Tottie was gone to admit the visitor. Mrs. Colter lowered her voice. +"Yes, honey," she agreed. "And you're goin' to tell your Aunt Clare +what a nice place we've got in Poughkeepsie, and how much you like it, +and----" The outer door had opened. She whispered an added suggestion. + +There was a young man at the front door--a man with a quick, nervous +manner. He wore clothes that were unmistakably English, and +_pince-nez_ from which hung a narrow black ribbon. And he carried a +cane. As he took off his derby to greet the landlady with studied +courtesy, his hair showed sparse across the top of his head. His +mustache worn short, was touched with gray. + +"She's out yodelin' somewheres, Mr. Hull," informed Tottie, filling the +doorway inhospitably, but unconsciously. + +Hull's face fell. "Well,--well, do you mind if I wait for her?" he +asked. + +"Oh, come in. Come in." + +He came, with a stride that was plainly acquired in uniform. His cane +hung smartly on his left arm. He carried his head high. + +It was Tottie's conviction that he was the son of a nobleman--perhaps +even of a duke; and that he was undoubtedly an erstwhile officer in the +King's service. She was respectful to Hull, even a little awe-struck +in his presence. He had a way of looking past her when he spoke, of +treating her as he might an orderly who was making a report. With him, +she always adopted a certain throaty manner of speaking,--a deep, honey +huskiness for which a well-known actress, who was a favorite of hers, +was renowned, and which she had carefully practiced. How many times of +a Sunday, cane in hand, had she seen him come down that street to her +steps, wearing a silk hat. Sometimes for his sake alone she wished +that she could dispense with that laundry. + +"Then she didn't get my letter," said Hull. + +"Can't say," answered Tottie, taking her eyes from the mantelpiece. + +Hull spied the envelope. "No; here it is. You see, I didn't think I +could follow it so soon." + +Mrs. Colter had risen, and was struggling with her veil. + +"Mrs. Colter, this is Miss Crosby's fy-an-see," introduced Tottie. +"And, Barbara, this is goin' to be your Uncle Felix." + +Hull sat, and Barbara came to him, putting out a shy hand. "Ah! So +this is the little niece!" he exclaimed. "Well! Well!--When did you +come down, Mrs. Colter?" + +"Left Poughkeepsie at six-thirty this mornin'. And now I must be +runnin' along--to see if I can find that pickle fork." + +Barbara had been studying the newcomer more frankly. Emboldened by his +smile, she brought forward the nosegay. "See what I've got for Aunt +Clare," she whispered. + +Hull patted the crumpled blossoms. "You're a thoughtful little body," +he declared. And as Mrs. Colter started out, "Could I trouble you, I +wonder?" He got up. "I mean to say, will you buy something for the +little niece?" + +"Oh, ain't that nice of him!" cried Mrs. Colter, appealing to Tottie. + +Hull was going into a pocket to cover his confusion at being praised. +"A--a pinafore, for instance," he suggested, "or a--a----" + +"A coat," pronounced Tottie. "Look at that one! It's fierce!" + +With the grave air of a little old lady, Barbara interposed. "I need +shoes worse," she declared. "See." She put out a foot. + +"Yes, shoes," agreed Hull. He pressed a bill into Mrs. Colter's hand. +There were tears in her mild eyes. She did not trust herself to speak, +but nodded, smiling, and hurried away. He sat again, and drew the +child to him. + +Tottie, leaned against the mantelpiece once more, observed the two with +languid, but not unkindly, interest. "I wonder why the kid's father +and mother don't do more for her," she hazarded. + +Hull frowned. "It makes my blood boil when I think how that precious +pair have loaded the child onto Miss Crosby," he answered. + +"Pretty bony," agreed Tottie. + +"And she's so brave about it--so uncomplaining. Why, any other girl +would have put her niece into an orphanage." + +The rooming-house keeper grinned. "Well, she did think of it," she +said slyly. "But they turned her down. Y' see, Barbara--ain't a' +orphan." + +Now Barbara lifted an eager face. "My mother's in Africa, and my +father's in Africa," she boasted. + +"Out o' sight, pettie, out o' mind." + +Hull took one of the child's hands in both of his. "You've got a +mighty fine auntie, little girl," he said with feeling. "Just the best +auntie in the whole world." + +Barbara nodded. "And I love her," she answered, "best of everybody +'cept my mother." + +Tottie threw up both well-powdered arms. "Hear that!" she cried. +"Except her mother! And Clare says the kid ain't seen the mother since +she was weaned!" + +Hull shook his head. "Isn't it strange!" he mused; "--the difference +between members of the same family! There's one sister, neglecting her +own child--and a sweet child. And here's another sister, bearing the +burden." + +But Barbara was quick to the rescue of the absent parent under +criticism. "Aunt Clare says that some day my mother's coming back from +Africa," she protested. "And then I'm going to be with her all the +time--every day." + +"I s'pose the kid'll live with you and Clare when you marry," ventured +Tottie. + +"No. Clare doesn't want me to have the expense. Says it isn't fair. +But--I'll get in touch with that father." + +Again the child interposed, recognizing the note of threatening. +"Maybe my father won't come with my mother," she declared. "Because he +hunts lions." + +Tottie laughed. "Well, he'd better cut out huntin' lions," she +retorted, "and hunt you some duds." Then to Hull, "I wonder what +they're up to, 'way out there. What is it about 'em that's so secret?" + +"That's not my affair," reminded Hull, bluntly. He got up, dropping +the child's hand. + +Feeling herself dismissed, but scarcely knowing at what or whom this +stranger was directing his ill-temper, Barbara retreated, and to the +doll, sitting starkly upon the green chair. "Come on, Lolly-Poppins," +she whispered tenderly, and taking the doll up in her arms, went back +to the corner of the settee to rock and kiss it, to smooth and caress +it with restless little hands. + +Tottie sidled over to Hull, lowering her voice against the child's +overhearing her. "Y' know what _I_ think?" she demanded. + +"What?" + +"I think the pair of 'em is in j-a-l-e,"--she spelled the word behind a +guarding hand. + +Hull ignored the assertion. "Where is Miss Crosby singing today?" he +asked curtly. + +Tottie went back to the hearth. "Search me," she declared. "It looks +like your future bride, Mr. Hull, don't tell nobody nothin'. What's +_your_ news?" + +Barbara had settled down, Lolly-Poppins in the clasp of both arms. She +crooned to the doll, her eyes closed. + +"Oh, I haven't any," answered Hull. Then more cordially, "But I got a +raise today." + +"Grand! The Northrups, ain't it?" + +"Chemists," said Hull, going to look out of the window. + +"Well, money's your friend," declared Tottie, philosophically. "Me for +it!" + +A door-latch clicked. Someone had entered the hall. + +"That's her!" + +"Don't tell her Barbara's here. It'll be a jolly surprise." + +Tottie agreed, and with a quick movement caught the silk shawl from her +own shoulders and covered the child. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Clare ran all the way, with scared eyes, and heaving breast, and a hand +clutching the rim of the tilted hat. And only when she reached the +corner nearest home did she slow a little, to look behind her as if she +feared pursuit. Then finding herself breathless, she stepped aside for +a moment into the entrance of an apartment house, and there, under the +suspicious watch of a negro elevator boy, pretended to hunt for +something in her music-roll. + +As she waited, she remembered that there was some laundry due her in +the basement. That must be collected. She walked on, having taken a +second look around, and darted under the front steps to make her +inquiry. She promised to call for the articles in ten minutes by way +of the back stairs; then slowly ascended the brownstone steps, glancing +up the street as she climbed, but as indifferently as possible. + +Once inside the storm door, she listened. Someone might be +telephoning--they knew her number at the Rectory. Or Tottie might have +a visitor, which would interfere with plans. + +She heard no sound. Letting herself in noiselessly, she tiptoed to the +parlor door and opened it softly. + +"Hello-o-o-o!" It was Hull, laughing at the surprise they had for her. + +"Felix!" She halted, aghast. + +"Well, aren't you glad to see me?" + +"Oh, yes! Yes!"--but her face belied her. She tugged at her hat, +seeking, even in her nervousness, to adjust it becomingly. + +"What're y' pussy-footin' around here for?" questioned Tottie, sharply. + +"I'm not.--Tottie, can I see Mr. Hull alone?" + +"Sure, dearie. As I say, don't never git your ear full of other +folks's troubles--_and_ secrets." She went out, with a backward look +at once crafty and resentful. + +With a quick warning sign to Hull, Clare ran to the door, bent to +listen a moment, holding her breath, then ran to him, leading him +toward the window. "Felix," she began, "go back to Northrups. I'll +'phone you in an hour." + +He had been watching her anxiously. "What is it? Something wrong?" + +"Yes! Yes! My--my brother and sister--in Africa." She got his hat +from where he had laid it on the rocker. + +"In trouble?" he persisted, studying her narrowly. + +"Yes,--in trouble. And I don't want to see any reporters--not one!" + +"That's all right"--he spoke very gently--"I'll see them." + +Her face whitened. "Oh, no! There isn't anything to say. Felix, I'll +just leave here, and they won't be able to find me. And you go +now----" She urged him toward the door. + +He stood his ground. "You're not giving me the straight of this," he +asserted, suddenly severe. + +"I am, I tell you! I am!" Her face drew into lines of suffering. She +entreated him, clasping his arm with her trembling hands. + +He freed himself from her hold. "If I thought you were lying----" +Then, roughly, "I hate a liar!" + +"Oh, but I'm not lying! Honest I'm not! Oh, believe me, and +go!--Felix!" + +He forbore looking at her. "Very well," he said coldly, and started +out. + +She followed him to the door. "And don't come back here, will you? +Promise you won't!" + +"I shan't come back," he promised. + +"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Then in tearful appeal, seeing his +displeasure, "Oh, Felix, I love you!" The poignancy of her cry made +him relent suddenly, and turn. He put an arm about her, and she clung +to him wildly. "Oh, Felix, trust me! Oh, you're all I've got!" + +"But there's something I don't understand about this," he reminded more +kindly. + +"I'll explain later. I will! You'll hear from me soon." + +Again he drew away from her. "Just as you say,"--resentfully. + +The front door shut behind him, Clare called up the stairs. "Tottie! +Tottie!" She listened, a hand pressing her bosom. + +"A-a-a-all right!" + +Clare did not wait. Running back into the front-parlor, she stood on a +chair in the bay-window, and worked at the hook holding the bird-cage. +"Well, precious!" she crooned. "Missy's little friend! Her darling +pet! Her love-bird! How's the sweet baby?" The cage released, she +stepped down and hurried across the room.' + +"Aunt Clare!"--first the clear, glad cry; next, a head all tumbled +curls. + +"Barbara!" Clare came short. Then, as Tottie sauntered in, "Oh, +what's this young one doing here?" + +Barbara had risen, discarding the doll and the shawl, and gone to +Clare. Now, feeling herself rebuffed, she went back to the settee, +watching Clare anxiously. + +"Waitin' for you," answered Tottie, taking up her shawl. + +"Aunt Clare!" pleaded the child, softly. + +"Oh! Oh!" mourned Clare. She set the cage on the table. + +Barbara bethought herself of the gift. Out of the sagging pocket of +the gingham, she produced the tightly-made bouquet. "See!" she cried, +holding out the flowers with a smile. "For you, Aunt Clare!" + +But Clare brushed them aside, and fetched the child's hat. "Where's +that Colter woman?" she demanded angrily. + +Tottie lolled against the mantel, studying Clare and enjoying her gum. +"Huntin' pickle forks," she replied. + +"Aunt Clare!" insisted Barbara, again proffering the drooping nosegay. + +"Here! Put this on!"--it was the coat. Clare took one small arm and +directed it into a sleeve. + +"Do I have to go?" asked Barbara, plaintively. + +"Now don't make a fuss!"--crossly. "Stand still!" Then taking the +bouquet away and letting it drop to the floor, "Here! Here's the other +sleeve." The coat went on. + +"Are you coming with me?" persisted Barbara, brightened by the thought. + +But Clare did not heed. "When'll she be back?" She avoided looking at +Tottie. "--Let me button you, will you?"--this with an impatient tug +at the coat. + +"Can't say," answered Tottie, with exasperating indifference. + +"Tottie, I'm going to move." + +At that, the landlady started, suddenly concerned. "Move?" she echoed +incredulously. + +Clare ran to a sewing-machine that stood against the wall behind the +settee. "Today," she added; "--now." + +"Where you goin'?" + +"To--to Jersey." + +Barbara, coated and hatted, and with Lolly-Poppins firmly clasped in +her arms, followed the younger woman. "Aunt Clare----" + +"Jersey!" scoffed Tottie. "You sure don't mean Jersey _City_." + +Clare covered her confusion by hunting among the unfinished work on the +machine. "Yes,--Jersey City," she challenged. + +Tottie's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Must be pretty bad," she +observed. "Pretty bad." + +Barbara, planted squarely in Clare's path, again importuned. "Am I +going too, Aunt Clare?" + +"No! Sit down! And keep _quiet_!" + +The child obeyed. There was comfort in Lolly-Poppins. She lifted the +doll to her breast, mothering it. + +"What's happened, pettie?" inquired Tottie. + +"Nothing--nothing." Clare folded a garment. + +"Nothin'--but you're movin' to Jersey City.--Ha!" + +"Well, most of my singing is across the River now, so it's more +convenient." + +"Mm!"--it implied satisfaction. Then carelessly, "Say, here's a letter +for you." And as Clare took it, tearing it open, "Glad nothin' 's gone +wrong.--Is that good news?" + +Clare thrust the letter into her dress. "Oh, just another singing +engagement," she answered. And went back to the heap of muslin on the +sewing-machine. + +Tottie's face reddened beyond the circumference of her rouge spots. +She took a long step in Clare's direction, and laid a hand on her arm. +"Now, look here!" she said threateningly. "You're lyin' about this +move!" + +"I'm not! I'm not!" + +"Somebody's been knockin' me." + +"No. Nonsense!" Clare tried to free her arm. + +But Tottie only held her the tighter. "Then why are you goin'?" + +"I've told you.--Please, Tottie!" Again she strove to loosen the +other's grip, seeing which Barbara, fearing for her Aunt Clare, cast +aside her doll and ran to stand beside the younger woman, trembling a +little, and ready to burst into tears. + +"Aw, you can't fool me!" declared Tottie. + +"I don't want to!" + +Tottie thrust her face close to Clare's. "You've got your marchin' +orders!" + +"What do you--you mean?" The other choked; her look wavered. + +"You're on the run." + +"I am not! No!" + +Tottie's voice lowered, losing its harshness, and took on a wheedling +tone. "But you never have to run," she informed slyly, "if you've got +the goods on somebody." She winked. + +"I--I haven't." + +"Stick--and fight--and _cash in_." + +"Tottie!" Clare stared, appalled. + +"O-o-o-oh!"--sneeringly. "Pullin' the goody-goody stuff, eh?" + +"Let me go! Let me go!" + +"Auntie Clare!" With the cry of fear, Barbara came between them, +catching at the elder woman's arm. + +Tottie loosed her hold and went back to the mantel to lean and look. +Clare drew out a drawer of the small center-table, searched it, and +laid a hand-mirror beside the cage. + +"What'll be your new address?" + +"I'll send it to you." + +The landlady began to whine. "Ain't that just my rotten luck! Another +room empty!--you know you oughta give me a week's notice." + +"Oh, I'll pay you for it," answered Clare, bitterly. + +"Well, I don't want to gouge you, dearie. And I don't know what I'll +do when you're gone. I've just learned to love you.--And with summer +comin' on, goodness knows how I'm goin' to rent that back-parlor. It's +hard to run a respectable house and keep it full. Now as I say, if I +was careless, I----" + +But what Miss St. Clair might have been moved to do under such +conditions was not forthcoming, for now steps were heard, climbing to +the front door. Next, a man's voice spoke. Then the bell rang. + +"Wait! Wait!" As she warned Tottie, Clare crossed to the bay-window +at a run. + +"Maybe here's a new roomer," suggested the hopeful landlady. + +But Clare had pressed aside the heavy curtain framing the window until +she could command the stoop. Two men were waiting there. "Oh!" she +breathed, almost reeling back upon Tottie. "Oh, don't let 'em in! +Don't! I can't see anybody! Say I'm gone! Oh, please, Tottie! I'm +gone for good." She was beside Barbara again, and was almost lifting +the child from the floor by an arm. Then she reached for the bird-cage. + +"Friends of yours?" questioned Tottie. She also peeked out. + +"No! No!"--and to Barbara, "Come! Don't you speak! Don't open your +mouth! Not a word!" Taking the child with her, she fled into her own +room, closing the door. + +The bell rang again, but Tottie took her time. Going to the fireplace, +she turned "The Lorelei" to the wall; then slipping the shawl from her +shoulders, she draped it carelessly over the plaster statuette of the +diving-girl. After which she stepped back, appraised the effect, and +went to open the front door to a large, ill-tempered man in a loose +sack suit, and a young man, tall and white to ghastliness, whose +nostrils quivered and whose mouth was scarcely more than a blue line. + +"Good-morning," began Balcome, entering without being asked. + +"Won't you step in?" begged Tottie, pointedly. + +The door to the back-parlor had opened to a crack. And a face +distorted with fear looked through the narrow opening. Clare heard the +invitation, and the entering men. She shut the door softly. + +Tottie followed her visitors. This was a transformed Tottie--all airs +and graces, with just the touch of the dramatic that might be expected +from a great "star." Indeed, she paused a moment, framed by the +doorway, and waited before delivering her accustomed preamble. She +smiled at the elder man, who returned a scowl. She bestowed a brighter +smile on Wallace, who failed to see it, but licked at his lips, and +smoothed his throat, like a man suddenly gone dry. Then she entered, +slowly, gracefully, allowing the teagown to trail. + +"As I say," she began, turning her head from side to side with what was +intended to be a pretty movement, "--as I say, it's a real joy to room +your theatrical friends. Because they fetch y' such swell callers." + +Balcome, with no interest in this information, aimed toward Wallace a +gesture that was meant to start the matter in hand. + +Wallace rallied his wits. "Is Miss--er--Crosby at home?" he asked. + +"Miss Crosby," repeated Tottie, with her very best honey-huskiness; +"oh, she don't rent here no more." + +He reddened in an excess of relief. + +"She don't?" mocked Balcome, glaring at the teagown. + +"Nope," went on the landlady, mistaking his attention for a compliment, +and simpering a little, with a quick fluttering of her lids; "took all +her stuff.--Hm!" Now she let her eyes play side-wise, toward that +double door behind Balcome. + +He took the hint. "I see." + +"And, oh, I'm goin' to miss her! Her first name bein' Clare, and my +last name bein' St. Clair, I always feel, somehow, that she's a sorta +relation." + +Balcome went nearer to the double door. "And you don't know where +she's living now?" He raised his voice a little. Then with Wallace +gaping in amazement, he put a hand into a pocket and brought out +several bills. He gave these a flirtatious wave before Tottie's eyes. +"You don't know?" + +"Say, y' don't expect me to tell y', do y'?" she inquired, also raising +her voice. Those eyes sparkled with greed. + +"Of course I expect you to tell me," Balcome mocked again, sliding the +bills into a coat pocket. + +"Well, she didn't leave her new address." Out came a beringed hand. + +"Didn't she?" Once more Balcome displayed the money. + +"No, she said she'd send it." Then pointing toward the double door, +her fingers closed on the bribe. + +Wallace gulped, looking about him at the carpet, like a creature in +misery that would lie down. + +Balcome was taking a turn about the room. "So she's gone," he said. +"Too bad! Too bad! And no address." Presently, as he came close to +the door again, he gave one half of it a sudden, wrenching pull. It +opened, and disclosed Clare, crouched to listen, one knee on the floor. + +"No! Don't!" It was Tottie, pretending to interfere. + +"O-o-oh!" Clare scrambled to her feet. But contrary to what might +have been expected, she almost hurled herself into the room, shut the +door at her back, and stood against it. + +Tottie addressed herself angrily to Balcome. "Say, look-a here! This +ain't the way out!" + +"My mistake," apologized Balcome. Then with a look at Wallace that was +full of meaning, he retired to the hearth, planted his shoulders +against the mantel at Tottie's favorite vantage point, and surveyed +Clare. "We thought you were gone," he remarked good-naturedly. He +bobbed at her, with a flop of the big hat against his leg. + +She made no reply, only waited, breathing hard, her eyes now on +Wallace, now on Tottie. To the former, her glance was a warning. + +He understood. "We'd--we'd like to see Miss Crosby alone," he said +curtly, for by another wave of the hat Balcome had given him the +initiative. + +"Yes--go, Tottie." + +Miss St. Clair turned, her gown trailing luxuriously. "I seem to be in +the way today," she laughed, with an attempt at coquetry. Then to +Clare, "I'm your friend, pettie. If you need me----" + +The younger man could no longer contain himself. "Oh, she told us you +were here!" he cried. + +"Tottie!" + +"It's a lie!--a lie!" She swept past him, her face ugly with +resentment. And to Clare, "Don't you let this feller put anything over +on you, kid." + +"All right, madam! All right!" Wallace's fingers twitched. He was +ready to thrust her from the room. + +She went, with a backward look intended to reduce him; and shut the +door. As he followed, opening the door to find that she was actually +gone, and leaning out to see her whereabouts farther along the hall, +she broke into a raucous laugh. + +"Rubber!" she taunted. "Rubber!" + +When he had shut the door again, and faced about, he kept hold of the +knob, as if supported by it. "I--I felt you'd like to know, Miss +Crosby," he commenced, forcing himself to speak evenly, "that Mr. +Farvel is over there at the Rectory." + +"Oh!" She put a hand to her head, waited a moment, then--"I--I +thought--maybe when--I saw you." + +"I knew that was why you left." He was more at ease now, and came +toward her. "Do you want to see him?" + +"No! No!" She put out both hands, pleadingly. "I don't want anything +to do with him! I don't want him to know I'm in New York. Promise me! +Promise!" + +Wallace looked down. "Well,--it isn't my affair," he said slowly. + +Mrs. Colter bustled in, a package swinging from one hand by a holder. +"Oh, excuse me!" she begged, coming short. + +Clare ran to her in a panic. "Oh, go! Go!" she ordered almost +fiercely. "Go home! Don't wait! Hurry!" Then as Mrs. Colter, scared +and bewildered, attempted to pass, "No! Go 'round! Go 'round!" + +"Yes," faltered the other, dropping and picking up her bundle as Clare +shoved her hallward; "yes." She fled. + +"Close the door!" cried Clare. And as Wallace obeyed, she again went +to stand against the panels of the double door. She seemed in a very +fever of anxiety. "Please go now, Wallace," she begged. "Please! I'm +much obliged to you for coming. It was kind. But if you'll go----" +Her voice broke hysterically. + +He glanced at Balcome, and the elder man nodded in acquiescence. +"We'll go," said Wallace. "I'm glad to have seen you again." He moved +away, and Balcome went with him. "But I hoped I could do something for +you----" + +"There's nothing,"--eagerly. "If you'll just go." + +"Well, good-by, then." + +"Good-by. Good-by, Mr. Balcome." + +"Good-by," grumbled Balcome. + +Wallace's hand was on the knob when a child's voice piped up from +beyond the door--a voice ready to tremble into tears, and full of +pleading. "But I want to kiss her," it cried. + +Clare fairly threw herself forward to keep the two men from leaving. +"Wait! Wait!" she implored in a whisper. + +"She's busy, I tell you!"--it was Mrs. Colter. "Now come along." + +Something brushed the outer panels; then, "Good-by, Aunt Clare!" piped +the little voice again. + +"Come! Come!" scolded Mrs. Colter. + +Now a sound of weeping, and whispers--Mrs. Colter entreating obedience, +and making promises; next, a choking final farewell--"Good-by, Aunt +Clare!" + +"Good-by," answered Clare, hollowly. + +As the weeping grew louder, and the outer door shut, Wallace went +toward the bay-window, slowly, as if drawn by a force he could not +master. He put a shaking hand to a curtain and moved it aside a space. +Then leaning, he stared out at the sobbing child descending the steps. + +When he turned his face was a dead white. His look questioned Clare in +agony. "Who---- That--that--your niece?" he stammered. + +"She's my sister's little girl," answered Clare, almost glibly. She +was recovering her composure, now that Barbara was out of the house. + +"A-a-ah!" Wallace took out a handkerchief and wiped at his face. Then +without looking at Clare, "Isn't there something I can do for you?" + +"No. No, thank you. I've got relatives here with me. I'm all right." +She took a chair by the table, and began to play with the mirror, by +turns blowing on it, and polishing it against the folds of her dress. + +He watched her in silence for a moment. It was plain that she was +anxious to detain them until she felt certain that the child had left +the block and was out of sight. He helped her plan. Standing between +them, Balcome vaguely sensed that they had an understanding and +resented it. His under lip pushed out belligerently. + +"I wish you'd let me know if there is anything," said the younger man, +his tone conventionally polite. + +"Yes. I'll--I'll write." She controlled a sarcastic smile. + +"In care of the Rectory," he directed. "Will you? I want to help you +in any way I can. I mean it." + +Now Clare rose. "Good-by," she said pleasantly. "I'm sorry I rushed +out the way I did today. But--you understand." She extended a hand. + +"Of course," he answered, scarcely touching the tips of her fingers. +"Yes." + +"I wish you the best of luck." She bowed, and again to Balcome. + +Balcome returned the bow sulkily. And turning his back as if to leave, +gave a quick glance round in time to see her make the other a warning +sign. + +At this juncture, the hall door swung wide, and Tottie appeared, head +high with suppressed excitement, and face alive with curiosity. +"Here's another caller, Miss Crosby," she announced. At her back was +Sue. + +Clare retreated, frowning. + +Sue, breathless from hurrying, and embarrassed, halted, panting and +smiling, in the doorway. "Oh, dear! This dress never was meant for +anything faster than a wedding-march!"--this with that characteristic +look--the look of a child discovered in naughtiness, and entreating +forgiveness. + +"Say, ain't you pop'lar!" broke in Tottie, shaking her head at Clare in +playful envy. And to Sue, "Y' know, all my theatrical friends 're just +crazy about her. They'll hate to see her go." + +"Go?" repeated Sue, sobering. + +"Tottie!" cried Clare, angrily. "Please! Never mind!" Peremptorily +she pointed her to leave. + +Tottie, having accomplished her purpose, grinned a good-natured assent. +"All right, dearie,"--once more she was playing the fine lady, for the +edification of this new arrival so well worth impressing. "I call this +my rehearsal room," she informed, with a polite titter. "Pretty idea, +ain't it? Well,"--with a sweeping bow all around--"make yourselves to +home." She went out, one jeweled hand raised ostentatiously to her +back hair. + +There was a moment's pause; then Sue held out an impulsive hand to the +younger woman. "Oh, you're not going to leave without seeing him," she +implored. + +"Who do you mean?"--sullenly. + +"Alan Farvel." + +Clare's eyes flashed. "Does he know you came?" + +"No." + +Clare turned to Wallace. "Does your sister know my real name?" she +asked. + +His pale face worked in a spasm. He coughed and swallowed. "N-n-no," +he stammered. + +"Now--just--wait--a--minute!" It was Balcome. He approached near +enough to Wallace to slap him smartly on the shoulder with the hat. +"You--told--me----" + +"What does it matter?" argued the other. "One name's as good as +another." + +Balcome said no more. But he exchanged a look with Sue. + +She glanced from Clare to Wallace, puzzled and troubled. Then, +"I--I--don't know what this is all about," she ventured, "and I don't +want to know. I just want to tell you, Miss Crosby, that--that he +grieves for you--terribly. Oh, see him again! Forgive him if he's +done anything! Give him another chance!" + +"You're talking about something you don't understand," answered Clare, +rudely. + +Sue shook her head. "Well, I think I know a broken heart when I see +one," she returned simply. + +To that, Clare made no reply. "These gentlemen are going," she said. +"And I wish you'd go too." + +"Then I can't help him--and you?" + +In sudden rage, Clare came toward her, voice raised almost to a shout. +"Help! Help! Help!" she mocked. "I don't want help! I want to be +let alone!--And I can't waste any more time. You'll have to excuse +me!" She faced about abruptly and disappeared into her own room, +banging the door. + +Sue lowered her head, and knitted her brows in a look of defeat that +was almost comical. "Well," she observed presently, "as Ikey says, +'Always you can't do it.'" + +Seeing the way clear for himself, her brother's attitude became more +sure. "I'm afraid you've only made things worse," he declared. + +Balcome flapped his hat. "We had her in pretty good temper--for a +woman." + +Thus championed, the younger man grew even bolder. "And I thought you +were going to keep out of this," he went on; "you promised mother----" + +Now of a sudden, Sue lost that manner at once apologetic and childlike. +"When did you know Miss Crosby?" she demanded of Wallace, sharply. +"How long ago?" + +"The year I met Alan.--I was eighteen." + +"And _you_ didn't have anything to do with this trouble? You're not +responsible in any way?" + +"Now why are you coming at me?" expostulated her brother. There was an +unpleasant whine in his voice. + +But Balcome failed to note it. "By golly!" he complained. "Women are +all alike!" + +"I'm coming at you," explained Sue, "because I know Alan Farvel. And I +don't believe he could do any woman such a hurt that she wouldn't want +to see him again, or forgive him. That's why." + +"But you think _I_ could! I must say, you're a nice sister!" + +"_I_ must say that your whole attitude today has been curious, to put +it mildly." + +"If I don't satisfy your woman's curiosity, you get even by putting me +in the wrong." Again there was that unpleasant whine. + +"No. But Mr. Farvel was relieved when he thought you had told me about +this matter. And the fact is, you haven't told me at all." + +He was cornered. His tall figure sagged. And his eyes fell before his +sister's. "I--I," he began. Then in an outburst, "It's Hattie I'm +thinking of! Hattie!" + +"Ah, as if _I_ don't think of Hattie!" Sue's voice trembled. "I want +to think you've had nothing to do with this. I couldn't bear it if +anything hurt her--her happiness--with you." + +Outside, the stairs creaked heavily. Then sounded a _bang, bang,_ as +of some heavy thing falling. Next came Tottie's voice, shrill, and +strangely triumphant: "Hey there! You're tryin' to sneak! Yes, you +are! And you haven't paid me!" + +Sue understood. She opened the hall door, and took her place beside +Clare as if to defend her. The latter could not speak, but stood, a +pathetic figure, holding to a suitcase with one hand, and with the +other carrying the bird-cage. + +"Get back in there!" ordered Tottie, beginning to descend from the +upper landing. + +Clare obeyed, Sue helping her with the suitcase. "I'll send the +money," she pleaded. "I--I meant to. Oh, Tottie!" + +Tottie was down by now, scowling and nursing a foot, for she had +slipped. She made "shooing" gestures at Clare. + +"How much does Miss Crosby owe you?" asked Sue, getting between Clare +and the landlady. + +"Sixteen dollars--and some telephone calls." + +"Let me----" It was Wallace. He ran a hand into a pocket. + +Sue warned him with a look. "Mr. Balcome will lend it," she said. + +Balcome did not wait to be asked. From an inside coat pocket he +produced a black wallet fat with bills, and pulled away the rubber band +that circled it. + +Tottie viewed the wallet with greedy eyes. "And there's some laundry," +she supplemented; "and Mrs. Colter's lunch today--just before you come +in, Clare,--and Barbara's." + +Clare implored her to stop by a gesture. "Twenty," she said to +Balcome. "I'll pay it back." + +Sue took the bills that Balcome held out, and gave them to Tottie. +"Keep the change," she suggested, anxious to get the woman away. + +Tottie recovered her best air. "Wouldn't mention such small items," +she explained, "but it's been a bad season, and I haven't had one +engagement--not one. As I say,----" + +"Don't apologize. I can tell a generous woman when I see one." This +with a hearty smile. + +Tottie simpered, shoved the money under the lace of her bodice, and +backed out--as a bell began to ring somewhere persistently. + +Clare had set down the suitcase and the cage. As Sue closed the door +and turned to her, the sight of that lowered head and bent shoulders +brought the tears to her eyes. "You want to get away?" she asked +gently; "you want to be lost again?" + +The other straightened. "What if I do!" she cried, angrily. "It's my +own business, isn't it? Why don't you mind yours?" + +"Now look here!" put in Balcome, advancing to stand between the two. +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Miss Milo came with the kindest +intentions in the world----" + +"No, no," pleaded Sue. And to Clare, "I'm going. I haven't wanted to +make you unhappy. And, oh, if you're alone----" + +"Rot!" interrupted Balcome, impatiently. "She's got relatives right +here in the house." He shuffled his feet and swung his hat. + +"I have not!" + +Balcome puffed his cheeks with astonishment and anger, and appealed to +Wallace. "Didn't she say so?" he demanded. "And that child called her +Aunt Clare." + +"A--child," repeated Sue, slowly. "A--child?" + +"My--my brother's little girl." + +"A-a-a-ah!" taunted Balcome. "And ten minutes ago, it was her sister's +little girl." He laughed. + +"My sister-in-_law_!"--she fairly screamed at him. "Oh, I wish you'd +go--all of you! How dare you shove your way in here! Haven't I +suffered enough? And you hunt me down! And torture me! Torture me!" +Wildly, she made as if to drive them out, pushing Sue from her; gasping +and sobbing. + +"Wallace!--Mr. Balcome!" Backing out of Clare's reach, Sue took the +two men with her. + +"Go!--Go!--Go!" It was hysteria, or a very fair imitation of it. + +Then of a sudden, while her arms were yet upraised, she looked past the +three who were retreating and through the door now opening at their +back. Another trio was in the hall--Tottie, important and smiling; +Mrs. Milo, elbowing her way ahead of the landlady to hear and see; and +with her, Farvel, grave, concerned, wondering. + +"More visitors!" hailed Tottie. + +"Susan, I distinctly told you----" + +Clare's look fastened on Farvel. She went back a few steps unsteadily, +until the door to her own room stopped her. There she hung, as it +were, pallid and open-mouthed. + +And Farvel made no sound. He came past the others until he stood +directly in front of the drooping, suffering creature against the +panels. His look was the look of a man who sees a ghost. + +Wallace, with quick foresight, had closed the hall door against Tottie. +But the others had no thought except for the meeting between Farvel and +Clare. Mrs. Milo, quite within the embrasure of the bay-window, looked +on like a person at an entertainment. Her glance, plainly one of +delight, now darted from Farvel to Clare, from Clare to Sue. + +With Balcome it was curiosity mixed with hope--the hope that here was +what would completely absolve Wallace, who was waiting, all bent and +shaken. + +Sue stood with averted eyes, as if she felt she should not see. Her +face was composed. There was something very like resignation in the +straight hanging down of her arms, in the bowed attitude of her figure. + +Thus the six for a moment. Then Farvel crumpled and dropped to the +settee. "Laura!" he said, as if to himself; "Laura!" + +"Oh, it's all over! It's all over!" she quavered. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +On those rare occasions of stress when Mrs. Milo did not choose to feel +that the unforeseen and unpleasant was aimed purposely at herself and +her happiness, she could assume another attitude. It was then her +special boast that she was able invariably to summon the proper word +that could smooth away embarrassments, lessen strain, and in general +relieve any situation: she knew how to be tactful; how to make peace: +she had, she explained, that rare quality known as "poise." + +Now with Clare Crosby swagging against the double door of Tottie's +back-parlor, watching Farvel through despairing eyes, and admitting +with trembling lips her own defeat; with Farvel seemingly overcome by +being brought thus suddenly face to face with the soloist, Mrs. Milo +experienced such complete satisfaction that she seized upon this +opportunity as one well calculated to exhibit strikingly her judgment, +balance, and sagacity; her good taste and pious gentleness. + +"Ah, Mr. Farvel!" she cried, in that playfully teasing tone she was +often pleased to affect. "Aren't you glad you came?--Oh, I guessed +your little secret! I guessed you were interested in Miss Crosby!" + +At the sound of her own name, Clare took her eyes from Farvel and +turned them upon Mrs. Milo--turned them slowly, as a sick person +might--with effort, and an almost feeble lifting of the head. Her look +once focused, she began, little by little, to straighten, to stand more +firmly on her feet; she even reached to flatten the starched collar, +which had upreared behind her slender throat. + +Mrs. Milo went twittering on: "Where you're concerned, trust us to be +anxious, dear Mr. Farvel. That's how we came to guess. _Isn't_ it, my +daughter?" + +Sue did not move. "Yes, mother," she answered obediently; "yes." + +Farvel got up. "Mrs. Milo," he began, "I intend to be quite frank with +you all. And I feel I ought to tell you that this young woman----" + +"Alan!" + +It was Clare who protested, almost in a scream, and with a forward +start which Wallace also made--involuntarily. + +Farvel shook his head and threw out both hands in a helpless gesture. +"They'd better hear all about it," he said. + +"You listen to me!" she returned. "This is nobody's business but ours. +Do you understand? Just ours." + +Mrs. Milo interrupted, with an ingratiating smile. "Still, Mr. Farvel +is the Rector of our Church. Naturally, he wishes to be quite +above-board"--she laid emphasis on the words--"even in his personal +affairs." + +"No!" Clare came past Farvel, taking her stand between him and Mrs. +Milo almost defensively. "No, I tell you! No! No! No!" + +Sue went to her mother. "Miss Crosby is right," she urged quietly. +"This is a private matter between her and Mr. Farvel. It goes back +quite a way in their lives, doesn't it?" She turned to the clergyman. +"Before you came to the Rectory, and before mother and I knew you? So +it can't be anything that concerns us, and we haven't any right to +know"--this as Mrs. Milo seemed about to protest again. "I'm right, +mother. And we're going--both of us." + +"We-e-e-ll,"--it was Farvel, uncertain, and troubled. + +"Alan, not now," broke in Wallace; "--later." + +"May _I_ have another word?" inquired Mrs. Milo, with an inflection +that said she had so far been utterly excluded from voicing her +opinions. "Mr. Farvel,----" + +But Clare did not wait for the clergyman to give his permission. "I +say no," she repeated defiantly. And to Farvel, "Please consider me, +will you? I'm not going to have a lot of hypocrites gossiping about +me!"--this with a pointed stare at the elder woman. + +"And, Alan, you said yourself,"--it was Wallace again--"there'll be +talk. You don't want that." + +Balcome, standing behind Wallace, suddenly laid a hand on his arm. +"Say, what's _your_ part in this trouble?" he demanded. "You seem +excited." + +"Why--why--I haven't any part." + +Balcome shrugged, and flopped the big hat. "Not any, eh?" he said. +"Hm!" By a lift of his eyebrows, and a jerk of the head, he invited +Farvel to take a good look at Wallace. + +Farvel seemed suddenly to waken. He shook a pointed finger. "You knew +she was alive!" he declared. + +"He didn't! He did not!" Again Clare was fiercely on the defense. + +"No! On my honor!" vowed Wallace. + +Sue made a warning gesture. "Listen, everybody," she cautioned. +"Suppose we go back to the Rectory." And to Clare, "You and Mr. Farvel +can talk with more privacy there." + +A quick hand touched her. "Susan," whispered Mrs. Milo. + +She had support in her protest. "_I'm_ not going back to any Rectory," +Clare asserted. + +"Back?" repeated Farvel, astonished. "_Back_? Then you--you were the +soloist?" + +"Yes.--Oh, _why_ did I go! Why didn't I ever find out! Milo--it isn't +a common name. And I might have known! I'm a fool! A fool! But I +needed the engagement. And I'd been there before, and I thought it was +all right." + +"What has 'Milo' to do with it?" asked Sue. + +"This--this: I knew that Wallace knew Alan. So--so when I saw Wallace +there, I was sure Alan was there. And I left. That's all." She went +back to the chair by the table and sat. + +"You walked right into my house!" marveled Farvel; "--after all the +years I've searched for you!" + +"Ha! ha!--Just my luck!" She crossed her feet and folded her arms. + +There was a pause. + +Wallace was plainly in misery, at times holding his breath, again +almost blowing, like a man after a run. He shifted uneasily. The +sweat stood out on his white temples, and he brushed the drops into his +hair. + +Of a sudden, Farvel turned to him. "Why didn't you tell me it was +Laura?" he demanded. "You saw her there--you came here--why didn't you +ask me to come?" + +"Well," faltered Wallace, "I--I don't know why I didn't. I'm sorry. +It was just--just----" His voice seemed to go from him. He swallowed. + +Now, Farvel's manner changed. His face darkened, and grew stern. +"There's something here that I don't understand," he said, angrily. + +Clare sprang up. "Oh, drop it, will you?" she asked rudely; "--before +all this crowd." + +Farvel turned on her fiercely. "No, I won't drop it! I want this +thing cleared up!" And to Wallace again, "For ten years you know how +I've searched. And in the beginning, you know better than anyone else +in the whole world how I suffered. And yet today, when you found +Laura, you failed to tell me--_me_, of _all_ persons!" His voice rose +to a shout. "Why, it's monstrous!" + +"And I want this thing cleared up, too," put in Balcome. "Wallace, +you're going to marry my daughter. Why did you lie to me about this +young woman's name?" + +Mrs. Milo went to take her place beside her son. "Do you mean," she +demanded, "that you're both trying to find my dear boy at fault?--to +cover someone else's wrongdoing." She stared at Farvel defiantly. + +"Please, mother!" Wallace pushed her not too gently aside. Then he +faced the other men, his features working with the effort of control. +"Well, it--it was for--for Miss Crosby's sake," he explained. "I knew +she didn't want to be found--I knew it because she was so scared when +she saw me, and ran. And--and then Hattie; you know Hattie's never +cared an awful lot for me. And I was afraid--I was afraid she +might--she might wonder----" He choked. + +"_Hattie,_" repeated Balcome. + +A strange look came into Farvel's eyes. "What has Miss Balcome to do +with it?" he asked. + +"Nothing! Nothing!"--it was Clare. She gave Wallace a warning glance. + +"I thought it might worry her," he added, weakly. + +Farvel seemed to sense a falsehood. "You can't convince me," he said. +"You've known the truth all along--ever since she went away. And you +know why she went.--Don't you? _Don't_ you?" Again his voice rose. +He advanced almost threateningly. + +"No! No! I swear it!" + +"No!" echoed Clare. + +"This is disgraceful!" cried Mrs. Milo, appealing to Balcome. + +"Oh, go home, mother!" entreated her son, ungratefully. + +Sue added her plea. "Yes, let's all go. Because you're all speaking +pretty loud, and our hostess is a lady of considerable curiosity. +Come--let's return to the Rectory." + +"Susan!" stormed Mrs. Milo. Then, more quietly, "Please think of your +mother's wishes. Mr. Farvel and Mr. Balcome are right. Let us clear +up this matter before we return." + +Clare burst into a loud laugh. "Ha-a-a! Talk about curiosity!" she +mocked. And went back to her chair. + +Sue reddened under the taunt. "Well, I, for one, don't wish to know +your private affairs," she declared. "So I'm going." + +"Susan!--You may leave the room if you desire to do so. But you will +remain within call." + +"I'd rather go home, mother." + +"You will obey me." + +"Very well." + +"Mm!" Mrs. Milo, plainly gratified, seated herself in the rocker. + +"If there's anything I can do for you, Miss Crosby, just ask me." Sue +forbore looking at Farvel. She was pale again now, as if with +weariness. But she smiled. + +Clare did not even look round. Beside her was the canary, his shining +black eyes keeping watch on the group of strangers as he darted from +cage bottom to perch, or hung, fluttering and apprehensive, against the +wires of his home. Clare lifted the cage to her knee and encircled it +with an arm. + +Balcome caught Sue's eye, made a comical grimace, and patted her on the +arm. "As this seems to concern my girl," he explained, "I'm here to +stay." He dropped into a chair by the hearth. + +Sue went out. + +Clare was quite herself by now. She disdained to look at anyone save +Farvel, and the smile she gave him over a shoulder was scornful. +"Well, shoot!" she challenged. "Let's not take all day." + +"Why did you leave without a word?" he asked. + +"You mean today?--I told you." + +"I mean ten years ago." + +"Well, if you want to know, I was tired of being cooped up, so I dug +out." + +"Cooped up!" exclaimed Farvel, bitterly. + +"I guess you know it! And Church! Church! Church! And prayers three +times a day! And a small town! Oh, it was _deadly_!" + +"No other reason?" asked Farvel, coldly. + +She got up, suddenly impatient. "I've told you the truth!" she cried. +Then more quietly, seeing how white and drawn he looked, "I'm sorry it +worried you." She set the cage on a chair near the double door. + +"Worried!" echoed Farvel, bitterly. "Ha! ha!" And with significance, +"And who was concerned in your going?" + +"That's a nice thing for you to insinuate!" she returned hotly. + +"I beg your pardon." + +Mrs. Milo fell to rocking nervously. She was enjoying the situation to +the full; still--the attitude of Farvel toward this young woman was far +from lover-like; while her attitude toward him was marked by hatred +badly disguised. Hence an unpleasant and unwelcome thought: What if +this "Laura" turned out to be only a relative of the clergyman's! + +Farvel's apology moved Clare to laughter. "Oh, that's all right," she +assured him, impudently; "I understand. The more religious people are, +you know, the more vile are their suspicions"--this with a mocking +glance at Mrs. Milo. + +The green velour rocker suddenly stood still, and Mrs. Milo fairly +glared at the girl. Clare, seeing that she had gained the result she +sought, grinned with satisfaction, and resumed her chair. + +Farvel had not noticed what passed between the two women. He was +watching Wallace. "And you----" he began presently. + +The younger man straightened, writhed within his clothes as if he were +in pain, and went back to his stooping position once more--all with +that swiftness which was so like the effect of an electrical current. +"Alan," he whispered. + +"--What had you to do with it?" went on the clergyman. + +Clare scoffed. "Wallace had nothing to do with it," she declared. +"What in the dickens is the matter with you?" + +"Nothing to do with it?" repeated Farvel. Then, with sudden fury, +"Look at him!" He made for Wallace, pushing aside a chair that was not +in his way. + +"Alan! Stop!" Clare rose, and Mrs. Milo rose, too. + +"Come now, Wallace," Farvel said more quietly. "I want the truth." + +Mrs. Milo hastened to her son. "Darling, I know you haven't done +anything wrong," she said, tenderly. "This 'friend' is trying to shift +the blame. Stand up for yourself, my boy. Mother believes in you." + +Wallace's chin sank to his breast. At the end of his long arms, his +hands knotted and unknotted like the hands of a man in agony. + +"My dearest!" comforted his mother. His suffering was evidence of +guilt to Balcome and Farvel; to her it was grief, at having been put +under unjust suspicion. + +He lifted a white face. His eyes were streaming now, his whole body +trembling pitifully. "Oh, what'll I do!" he cried. "What'll I do!" +He tottered to the chair that Farvel had shoved aside, dropped into it, +and covered his face with both hands. + +"My boy! My boy!" + +"Don't act like a baby!" Clare came to him, and gave him a smart slap +on the shoulder. "Cut it out! You haven't done anything." + +"Just a moment," interrupted Farvel. He shoved her out of the way as +impersonally as he had the chair. Then, "What do you mean by 'What'll +do'?" he demanded. And to Clare, pulling at his arm, "Let me alone, I +tell you. I'm going to know what's back of this!--_Wallace Milo_!" + +Slowly Wallace got up. His cheeks were wet. His mouth was distorted, +like the mouth of a woeful small boy. His throat worked spasmodically, +so that the cords stood out above his collar. + +Clare defended him fiercely. "What've you got into your head?" she +asked Farvel. "You're wrong! You're dead wrong!--Wallace, tell him +he's wrong!" + +Wallace shook his head. "No," he said, striving to speak evenly; "no, +I won't. All these years I've suffered, too. I've wanted to make a +clean breast of it a million times--to get it off my conscience. Now, +I can. I"--he braced himself to go on--"I was at the Rectory so much, +Alan. I think that's how--it started. And--and she was nice to me, +and I--I liked her. And we were almost the same age. So----" He +could go no further. With a gesture of agonized appeal, he sank to his +knees. "Oh, Alan, forgive me!" he sobbed. "Forgive----" + +There could be no doubt of his meaning--of the character of his +confession. Farvel bent over him, seizing an arm. "Get on your feet!" +he shouted. "Get up! Get up, I tell you! I'm going to knock you +down!" + +"Oh, help! Help!" wept Mrs. Milo, appealing to Balcome, who came +forward promptly. + +"Farvel!" he admonished. He got between the two men. + +Clare was dragging at Farvel. "Blame me!" she cried. "I was older! +Blame me!" + +Farvel pushed her aside. "Don't try to shield him!" he answered. +"He's a dog! A dog!" + +A loud voice sounded from the hall. It was Tottie, storming +virtuously. "I won't have it!" she cried. "This is my house, and I +won't have it!" + +Another voice pleaded with her--"Now wait! Please!" + +"I'm goin' in there," asserted the landlady. She came pounding against +the hall door, opened it, and entered, her bobbed hair lifting and +falling with the rush of her coming. "Say! What do you call this, +anyhow?" she demanded, shaking off the hand with which Sue was +attempting to restrain her. + +"Keep out of here," ordered Balcome, advancing upon her boldly. + +She met him without flinching. "I won't have no knock-down and +drag-out in my house!" she declared. "This is a respectable----" + +"Oh, I'm used to tantrums," he retorted. And without more ado, he +forced Miss St. Clair backward into the hall, followed her, and shut +himself as well as her out of the room. + +"I'll have you arrested for this!" she shrilled. + +"Oh, shut up!" + +Their voices mingled, and became less audible. + +"You can't blame her," said Sue. "Really, from out there, it sounded +suspiciously like murder." She stared at her brother. He was not +kneeling now, but half-sitting, half-lying, in an awkward sprawl, at +Farvel's feet, much as if he had thrown himself down in a fit of temper. + +Farvel turned to her. His face was set. His eyes were dull, as if a +glaze was spread upon them. His hands twitched. But he spoke quietly. +"Get this man out of here," he directed, "or I _shall_ kill him." + +"Oh, go! Go!" pleaded Mrs. Milo. + +"Go!" added Clare. She threw herself into the chair at the table, put +her arms on the cloth, and her face in her arms. + +Sue ran to Wallace, took his arm and tugged at it, lifting him. He +stumbled up, still weeping a little, but weakly. As she turned him +toward the hall, he put an arm across her shoulders for support. + +Mrs. Milo followed them. She was not in the dark as to the nature of +her son's tearful admission. But she had no mind to blame him. +Resorting to her accustomed tactics, she put Farvel in the wrong. "I +never should have trusted my dear boy to you," she cried. "I thought +he would be under good influences in a clergyman's house. Only +eighteen, and you make him responsible!" + +The door opened, and Balcome was there. He looked at Wallace not +unkindly. "Pretty tough luck, young man," he observed. + +At sight of Balcome, Mrs. Milo remembered the wedding. "Oh!" she +gasped. And turning about to Farvel in a wild appeal, "Oh, Hattie! +Think of poor Hattie! Won't you forget yourself in this? Won't you +help us to keep it all quiet? Oh, we mustn't ruin her life!" She +returned to the rocker, her fingers to her eyes, as if she were +pressing back the tears. + +Balcome had come in, closing the door. He crossed to Farvel, his big, +blowzy face comical in its gravity. "Mr. Farvel," he said, "whatever +concerns that young man concerns my--little girl." He blinked with +emotion. "So--so that's why I ask, who is this young woman?" + +Before Farvel could reply, Clare lifted her head, stood suddenly, and +stared Balcome from his disheveled hair to his wide, soft, well-worn +shoes. "Oh, allow me, Alan!" she cried. "You know, they're just about +to burst, both of 'em!"--for Mrs. Milo was peering at her over a +handkerchief, the blue eyes bright with expectancy. "If they don't +know the worst in five seconds, there'll be an explosion sure!" She +laughed harshly. Then with mock ceremony, and impudently, "Mr. +Balcome,--and _dear_ Mrs. Milo, permit me to introduce myself. I am +your charming clergyman's beloved bride." She curtsied. + +No explosion could have brought Mrs. Milo to her feet with more +celerity. While Balcome stumbled backward, the red of his countenance +taking on an apoplectic greenish tinge. + +"_Bride?_" he cried. + +"_Wife?_" gasped Mrs. Milo, hollowly. + +But almost instantly the blue eyes lighted with a smile. She put back +her bonneted head to regard Clare from under lowered lashes. "Ah!" she +sighed in relief. No longer was there need to fear publicity for her +son; here was a situation that insured against it. + +"Yes, you feel better, don't you?" commiserated Clare, sarcastically. +"--Tuh!" + +Balcome was blinking harder than ever. "Well, I'll be damned!" he +vowed under his breath. + +By now Mrs. Milo's smile had grown into a clear, joyous, well-modulated +laugh. "Oh, ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!--Wife!" she exulted. "That is most +interesting! Hm!--And it changes everything, doesn't it?"--this to no +one in particular. She reseated herself, studying the floor +thoughtfully, finding her glasses meanwhile, and tapping a finger with +them gently. "Hm!--Ah!--Yes." + +Balcome replied to her, and with no idea of sparing her feelings. +"Yes, that puts quite a different face on things," he agreed; "--on +what Wallace has done. The home of his best friend!" + +"Let's not talk about it!" begged Farvel. + +"All right, Mr. Farvel," answered Balcome, soothingly. "But my +Hattie's happiness--that's what I'm thinking of." He came nearer to +Clare now. "And before I go," he said to her, "I'd like to ask you one +more question." + +"Oh, you would!" she retorted ironically. "Well, I'm not going to +answer any more questions. I've got a lot to do. And I want to be let +alone." She made as if to go. + +"Wait!" commanded Farvel. + +She flushed angrily. "Well? Well? Well?" she demanded, her voice +rising. + +"We shan't trouble you again," assured the clergyman, more kindly. + +"Then spit it out!" she cried to Balcome. "I want to know," began +Balcome, eyeing her keenly, "just whose child that is?" + +It was Farvel's turn to gasp. "Child?" he echoed. + +Mrs. Milo straightened against the green velours. "A child?" she said +in turn. + +"You know who I mean," declared Balcome, not taking his look from +Clare. "That little girl who called you Auntie." + +She tried to speak naturally. "That--that--she's a friend's child--a +friend's child from up-State." + +"You told us she was your sister's child," persisted Balcome. + +She took refuge in a burst of temper. "Well, what if I did? I'm +liable to say anything--to you!" + +There was a pause. Farvel watched Clare, but she looked down, not +trusting herself to meet his eyes. As for Balcome, he had reached a +conclusion that did not augur well for the happiness of his daughter. +And his gaze wandered miserably. + +Curiously enough, not a hint occurred to Mrs. Milo that this new turn +of affairs might have some bearing on her son. She found her voice +first. "Ah, Mr. Balcome," she said sadly, nodding as she put away her +glasses, "it's just as I told Sue: it's always the same story when a +girl drops out of sight!" + +"Oh, is that so!" returned the younger woman, wrathfully. "Well, it +just happens, madam, that I was married." + +"Laura!" entreated Farvel. "You mean--you mean the child is--ours?" + +She tossed her head. "Is it bad news?" she asked. + +Farvel's shoulders were shaking. "A-a-a-ah!" he murmured. He fumbled +for a handkerchief, crumbled it, and held it against his face. + +"My dear Mrs. Farvel," began Mrs. Milo, in her best manner, "believe me +when I say that I'm very glad to hear all this. I know what the +temptations of this great city are, and naturally----" She got up. "A +reunited family, Mr. Farvel," she said, smiling graciously. "Oh, Susan +will be so pleased!" She fluttered toward the door, "So pleased!" + +Clare gave a hissing laugh. "Oh, how that news will scatter!" she +exclaimed. And flounced into her chair. + +Mrs. Milo was calling into the hall. "Susan! Susan dear!" + +"On guard!" Sue was part way up the stairs, seated. + +"Just a moment, my daughter." Leaving the door wide, Mrs. Milo came +fluttering back. "It really didn't surprise me," she declared, with a +wise nod at Balcome. "I half guessed a marriage." + +"Hope for the worst!" mocked Clare. + +Sue came in, with a quick look around. "Are you ready to go, mother?" + +"You bet, mother is _not_ ready to go,"--this Clare, under her breath. + +"My dear," said her mother, sweetly, "we have called you in to tell you +some good news." + +Sue smiled. "I could manage to bear up under quite a supply of good +news." Farvel was brushing at his eyes. His face was averted, but she +guessed that he had been crying. + +"First of all, Susan, Miss Crosby is----" + +"Now, mother, does Miss Crosby want----" + +"Wa-a-ait! Please! It is something she wishes you to know.--Am I +right?" This with that characteristic smile so wholly muscular. + +"Right as the mail!" assured Clare, ironically again, and borrowing an +expression learned from Hull. + +"Ah! Thank you!--Susan, Miss Crosby is not Miss Crosby at all. She is +married.--I'm so glad your husband has found you, my dear." + +"Found? You--you don't mean----" There was a frightened look in Sue's +eyes. + +Her mother misunderstood the look. "Yes, lucky Mr. Farvel," she said, +beaming. Then with precision, since Sue seemed not to comprehend, +"Mrs.--Alan--Farvel." + +"I--see." + +"Didn't I practically guess that Mr. Farvel was married?" + +"Married,"--it was like an echo. + +"And I was right!" + +"Yes, mother,--yes--you're--you're always right." + +"Mr. Farvel, we congratulate you!--Don't we, dear?" + +"Congratulations." + +Something in Sue's face made Farvel reach out his hand to her. She +took it mechanically. Thus they stood, but not looking at each other. + +Once more Mrs. Milo was playfully teasing. "Why shouldn't we all know +that you had a wife?" she twittered. It was as if she had added, "You +bad, bad boy!" + +"Yes," said Sue. "Why not? Rectors do have them. There's no canon +against it." She laughed tremulously, and dropped his hand. + +Clare tossed her head. "There ought to be!" she declared. + +At that, Mrs. Milo threw out both arms dramatically. "Oh! Oh, dear!" +she cried. "I've just thought of something!" + +"I'll bet!" Clare turned, instantly apprehensive. + +"Save it, mother!" begged Sue, eager to avert whatever might be +impending; "--save it till we get home. Come! Mr. and Mrs. Farvel +will have things to talk over." And to the clergyman, "We'll take Mr. +Balcome and go on ahead." + +"Now wait!" bade Mrs. Milo, gently. "Why are you so impetuous, +daughter? Why don't you listen to your mother? Why do you take it for +granted that I want to make Mrs. Farvel unhappy?"--this in a chiding +aside. + +"I don't, mother." + +"Indeed, I am greatly concerned about her. She believed her husband +dead, poor girl. And now"--with a sudden, disconcerting turn on +Clare--"what about your engagement?" + +"I'm--I'm not engaged!" As she sprang up, the girl pressed both hands +against the wine-colored velveteen of her skirt, hiding them. "I never +said I was! Oh, I wish you'd mind your own business!" + +"Mother! Mother!" pleaded Sue. "It was you who said it. Not +Miss--Mrs. Farvel. Don't you remember?" + +"How _could_ I be engaged?" She was emboldened by Sue's help. "I knew +he wasn't--dead." + +Farvel laughed a little bitterly. "You mean, no such luck, don't you, +Laura?" he asked. "Well, then,--I've got some good news for you." + +"What? What?"--with a sudden, eager movement toward him. + +"When five years had passed, and no word had come from you, though we +all felt that you were alive, your brother--in order to settle the +estate--had you declared legally dead. And naturally, that--that----" + +"I'm free!" She put up both hands, and lifted her face--almost as if +in prayerful thanksgiving. "I'm free! I'm free!" Then she gave way +to boisterous laughter, and fell to walking to and fro, waving her +arms, and turning her head from side to side. "I'm dead, but I'm free! +Oh, ha! ha! ha!--Well, that _is_ good news! Free! And _you're_ free!" + +"No, I am not free," he said quietly. "But it doesn't matter." + +"You are free," she protested. "Anyhow, I'm not going to let any of +that nonsense stand in my way. And don't you--church or no church. +Life's too short." Her manner was hurried. She caught at Farvel's +arm. "We're both free, Alan, so there's nothing more to say, is there? +Except, good-by. Good-by, Alan,----" + +Mrs. Milo interrupted. "But the child," she reminded. "Your daughter?" + +"Daughter?" Sue turned to Balcome, questioning him, and half-guessing. + +"Yes, my dear. Isn't it lovely? Mr. and Mrs. Farvel have a little +girl." + +"That's the one," Balcome explained, as if Clare was not within +hearing. He jerked his head toward the hall. "The one that called her +Auntie." + +"Auntie?" Mrs. Milo seized upon the information. "You surely don't +mean that the child calls her own mother Auntie?" + +Clare broke in. "I'll tell you how that is," she volunteered. "You +see"--speaking to Sue--"I've never told her I'm her mother. She thinks +her mother's in Africa; her father, too. Because--because I've always +planned to give her to some good couple--a married couple. Don't you +see, as long as Barbara doesn't know, they could say, 'We are your +parents.'" + +"But you couldn't give her up like that!" cried Sue, earnestly. + +"No," purred Mrs. Milo. "You must keep your baby. And, +doubtless"--this with the ingratiating smile, the tip of the head, and +the pious inflection--"doubtless you two will wish to re-marry--for the +sake of the child." + +"No!" cried Clare. "No! No! _No!_" + +"No, Mrs. Milo," added Farvel, quietly. "She shall be free." + +"No, for Heaven's sake!" put in Balcome. "Don't raise another girl +like Hattie's been raised." + +Mrs. Milo showed her dislike of the remark, with its implied criticism +of her own judgment. And she was uneasy over the turn that the whole +matter had taken. Farvel married, no matter to whom, was one thing: +Farvel very insecurely tied, and possessed of a small daughter whose +mother repudiated her, that was quite another. She watched Sue +narrowly, for Sue was watching Farvel. + +"But the little one," said the clergyman, turning to Clare; "I'd like +to see her." + +"Sure!" She was all eagerness. "Why not?--Yes." + +"Where is she?" + +"Out of town. At Poughkeepsie. She boards with some people." + +"Ah, good little mother!" said Sue, smiling. "Your baby's not in an +Institution!" + +Clare blushed under the compliment. "No, I--I shouldn't like to have +her in an Orphanage." + +"Can she come down right away?" asked Farvel. + +"Yes! Right away! I'll go after her now." + +"I'll go with you," suggested Sue. "May I?" + +She tried to catch Farvel's eye, to warn him. + +"But, Susan," objected Mrs. Milo; "I can't spare you." + +"Oh, I can go alone," protested Clare. "I don't need anybody." + +Behind her back, Balcome held up a lead-pencil at Sue. + +She understood, "We'll send for the baby. Now, what's the address?" +She proffered Clare the pencil and an envelope from one of Balcome's +sagging pockets. Then to him, as Clare wrote, "Would you mind going +back to the Rectory and sending me Dora?" + +"Good idea!" He pulled on the big hat. + +"Dora?" cried Mrs. Milo. "That child?" + +"Child!" laughed Sue. "Why, I'd send her to Japan. You don't think +she'd ever succumb to the snares and pitfalls of this wicked world! +She'll set the whole train to memorizing Lamentations!" + +Mrs. Milo's eyes narrowed. Sue's sudden interest in Farvel's daughter +was irritating and disturbing. "Wait, Brother Balcome," she begged. +"Sue, _I_ don't see why the little girl's own mother shouldn't go for +her." + +"Of course, I can." + +Balcome waited no longer. With a meaning glance at Sue, and a scowl +for Mrs. Milo, he hurried out. + +"Oh, let Dora go, Mrs. Farvel," urged Sue. "And meanwhile, you can be +getting settled somewhere." + +Clare looked pleased. "Yes. All right." + +"Then she will leave here?" inquired Mrs. Milo. + +"Oh, she must," declared Sue, "if she's going to have her baby come to +her." She indicated the suitcase. "Is there more?" + +"A trunk. And it won't take me ten minutes." As she turned to go, +Clare's look rested on the bird-cage, and she put out a hand toward it +involuntarily--then checked her evident wish to take it with her, and +disappeared into her own room. + +"Where had she better go?" asked Farvel, appealing to Sue. "You'll +know best, I'm sure----" + +Mrs. Milo fluttered to join them. "Of course," she began, her voice +full of sweet concern, "there are organized Homes for young women +who've made mistakes----" + +"Sh!" cautioned Farvel, with a nervous look toward the double door. + +"There's the little one, mother," reminded Sue. + +"Oh, but hear me out," begged the elder woman. "In this case, I'm not +advising such an institution. I suggest some very nice family hotel." + +Sue lowered her voice. "It won't do," she said. "We want to help +her--and we want to help the baby. If she goes alone to a hotel, we'll +never see her again. Just before you came----" She went close to the +double door. Beyond it, someone was moving quickly about, with much +rustling of paper. She came tiptoeing back. "She tried to steal +away," she whispered. + +"I mustn't lose track of my daughter," declared Farvel. He, too, went +to listen for sounds from the back-parlor. + +"Then we'd better take her right to the Rectory," advised Sue, "and +have Barbara brought there." + +Mrs. Milo bristled. "Now if you please!" she exclaimed angrily. + +Farvel crossed to her, eyeing her determinedly. "I don't see any +serious objection," he observed challengingly. "Your son--will not be +there." + +"You've lost your senses! Have you no regard for the conventions? +This woman is your ex-wife!" + +"But if there is no publicity--and for just a few days, mother." + +Mrs. Milo attempted to square those slender shoulders. "I won't have +that girl at the Rectory," she replied with finality. + +Farvel smiled. "But the Rectory is _my_ home, Mrs. Milo." + +"Oh, for the sake of the child, mother! For no other reason." + +"_If_ she comes, I shall leave--leave for good!" + +Farvel bowed an acceptance of her edict. "Well, she _is_ coming," he +said firmly; "and so is Barbara." + +"Then I shan't sleep under that roof another night!" Mrs. Milo +trembled with wrath. "Come, Susan! _We_ shall do some packing." She +bustled to the hall door, but paused there to right her bonnet--an +excuse for delaying her departure against the capitulation of her +opponents. She longed to speak at greater length and more plainly, but +she dreaded what Farvel might say against her son. + +Sue did not follow. "But, mother!" she whispered. "Mr. Farvel!--Oh, +don't let her hear any of this!" She motioned the clergyman toward the +rear room. "Sh!--You offer to help her! Go in there! Oh, do!" + +He nodded. "And you'll come with us to the Rectory?" + +"Indeed, she won't!" cried Mrs. Milo, coming back. "The very idea!" + +Farvel ignored her. "You see," he added, with just a touch of humor, +"we'll have to have a chaperone." He knocked. + +"Oh, come in!" called Clare. + +Sue shut the door behind him; then she took her mother with her to the +bay-window, halted her there as if she were standing one of the naughty +orphans in a corner, and looked at her in sorrowful reproval. + +Mrs. Milo drew away from the touch of her daughter's hand irritably. +"Now, don't glare at me like that!" she ordered. "The Rectory is not a +reformatory." + +"Oh, let's not take that old ruined-girl attitude!" replied Sue, +impatiently. "Laura Farvel doesn't need reforming. She needs kindness +and love." + +"Love!" repeated Mrs. Milo, scornfully. "Do you realize that you're +talking about a woman who led your own brother astray?" + +"I don't know who did the leading," Sue answered quietly. "As a matter +of fact, they were both very young----" + +"Wallace is a good boy!" + +"The less we say about Wallace in this matter the better. Why don't +you go to him, mother? He must be very unhappy. He will want advice. +And there's Mr. Balcome--shouldn't you and he take all this up with +Hattie's mother?" + +"Wallace will tell Hattie. We can trust him. But I don't want you to +act foolish. Is she going to bring that child to the Rectory?" + +"To the home of the child's own father? Why not?" + +"Yes! And you'll get attached to her!" + +Sue did not guess at the real fear that lay behind her mother's words. +"But you _want_ me to, don't you? I'm attached to a hundred others +there already. And you'll love Barbara, too." + +"There! You see?--Wherever a young one is concerned, you utterly +forget your mother!" + +"Why--why----" Sue put a helpless hand to her forehead. "Forget you? +I don't see how the little one would make any difference----" + +Farvel interrupted, opening the double door a few inches to look in. +"Miss Susan,--just a minute?" + +"Can I help?" Without waiting for the protest to be expected from her +mother, Sue hurried out. + +Mrs. Milo stayed where she was, staring toward the back-parlor. +"O-o-o-oh! To the Rectory!" she stormed. "It's abominable! I won't +have it! Such an insult!--The creature!" + +Someone entered from the hall--noiselessly. It was Tottie, wearing her +best manners, and with a countenance from which, obviously, she had +extracted, as it were, some of the rosy color worn at her earlier +appearance. She had smoothed her bobbed red tresses, too, and a long +motor veil of a lilac tinge made less obtrusive the décolleté of the +tea-gown. + +"Young woman," began Mrs. Milo, speaking low, and with an air of +confidence calculated to flatter; "this--this Miss Crosby;" (she gave a +jerky nod of her bonnet to indicate the present whereabouts of that +person) "you've known her some time?" + +A wise smile spread upon Miss St. Clair's derouged face. She dropped +her lashes and lifted them again. "Long," she replied significantly, +"and _intimate_." + +The blue eyes danced. "My daughter seems interested in her. And I +have a mother's anxiety." + +Tottie was blessed with a sense of humor, but she conquered her desire +to laugh. The daughter in question was a woman older than herself; +under the circumstances, a "mother's anxiety" was hardly deserving of +sympathy. Nevertheless, the landlady answered in a voice that was deep +with condolence. "Oh, _I_ understand how y' feel," she declared. + +"We know very little about her. I wonder--can _you_--tell +me--_something_." + +Tottie let her eyes fall--to the modish dress, with its touches of +lace; to a pearl-and-amethyst brooch that held Mrs. Milo's collar; to +the fresh gloves and the smart shoes. She recognized good taste even +though she did not choose to subscribe to it; also, she recognized cost +values. She looked up with a mysterious smile. "Well," she said +slowly, "I don't like to--knock anybody." + +"A-a-ah!" triumphed the elder woman; "I thought so!--Now, you won't let +me be imposed upon! Please! Quick!" A white glove was laid on a +chiffon sleeve. + +"Sh!--Later! Later!" The landlady drew away, pointing toward the +back-parlor warningly. The situation was to her taste. She seemed to +be a part of one of those very scenes for which her soul +yearned--melodramatic scenes such as she had witnessed across +footlights, with her husky-voiced favorite in the principal role. + +"I'll come back," whispered Mrs. Milo. + +"No. I'll 'phone you." With measured tread, Tottie stalked to the +double door, her eyes shifting, and one hand outstretched with +spraddling fingers to indicate caution. + +Mrs. Milo trotted after her. "But I think I'd better come back." + +Tottie whirled. "What's your 'phone number?" + +"Stuyvesant--three, nine, seven,"--this before she could remember that +she was not planning to sleep under the Rectory roof again. + +"Don't I git more'n a number?" persisted Tottie. "Whom 'm I to ask +for?" + +"Just say 'Mrs. Milo.'" + +"Stuyvesant--three, nine, seven, Mrs. Milo," repeated Tottie, leaning +down at the table to note the data. Then with the information safely +registered, "Of course, it'll be worth somethin' to you." + +Mrs. Milo almost reeled. She opened her mouth for breath. +"Why--why--you mean----" All her boasted poise was gone. + +Tottie grinned--with a slanting look from between half-lowered lashes. +"I mean--money," she said softly; and gave Mrs. Milo a playful little +poke. + +"Money!"--too frightened, now, even to resent familiarity. "Money! +Oh, you wouldn't----! You don't----!" + +"Yes, ma'am! You want somethin' from me, and I can give it to y', but +you're goin' to _pay_ for it!" + +The double door opened. Sue entered, her look startled and inquiring. +It was plain that she had overheard. + +Mrs. Milo pretended not to have noted Sue's coming. "Yes, very well," +she said to Tottie, as if continuing a conversation that was casual; +but the blue eyes were frightened. "Thank you so _much_!"--warmly. +"And isn't that a bell I hear ringing?" She gave the landlady a glance +full of meaning. + +"Ha-ha!" With a nod and a saucy backward grin, Tottie went out. + +For a moment neither mother nor daughter spoke. Sue waited, trying to +puzzle out the significance of what she had caught; and scarcely daring +to charge an indiscretion. Mrs. Milo waited, forcing Sue to speak +first, and thus betray how much she had heard. + +"I thought you'd gone," ventured Sue. + +"Gone, darling? Without you?" + +"That woman;"--Sue came closer--"I hope you were very careful." + +"Why, I was!"--this not without the note of injured innocence always so +effective. + +But Sue was not to be blocked so easily. "You're going to pay her for +what?" + +"Pay?" + +"What was she saying?" + +Now Mrs. Milo realized that she had been heard: that she must save +herself from a mortifying situation by some other method than simple +justification. She took refuge in tears. "I can see that you're +trying to blame me for something!" she complained, and sank, weeping, +to the settee. + +"I don't like to, mother," answered Sue, "but----" + +That good angel who watches over those who see no other way out of an +embarrassing predicament save the unlikely arrival of an earthquake or +an aeroplane now intervened in Mrs. Milo's behalf. Dora came in, +showing that the bell had, indeed, been summoning the mistress of the +house. Behind Dora was Tottie, and the attitude of each to the other +was plainly belligerent. + +"As you don't know your Scriptures," Dora was saying, with a sad +intonation which marked Tottie as one of those past redemption, "I'll +repeat the reference for you: 'Curiosity was given to man as a +scourge.'" Then in anything but a spirit proper to a biblical +quotation, she slammed the door in Tottie's face. + +Mrs. Milo, dry-eyed, was on her feet to receive Dora. "Oh, you +impudent!" she charged. "That's the reference you gave _me_--when I +asked you who was telephoning my daughter! I looked it up!" + +"Ah, Mrs. Milo!" Dora put finger-tips together and cast mournful eyes +up to Tottie's chandelier. "'The tongue is a world of iniquity.'" + +Sue took her by a shoulder, shaking her a little. "Dora, I'm sending +you out of town." + +"Oh, Miss Susan!" All nonsense was frightened out of her. "Don't send +me away! I tried to do my best--to keep her from coming here! But, +oh, Deuteronomy, nine, thirteen!" + +"Deuteronomy, nine, thirteen," repeated Mrs. Milo, wrinkling her brows. +Her eyes moved as she cudgeled her brain. "Deuteronomy----" + +Sue gave Dora another shake. "Listen, my dear! I'm sending you after +a little girl. Here! Twenty dollars, and it's Mr. Farvel's." + +"Oh, Miss Susan!"--with abject relief. "Gladly do I devote my gifts, +poor as they are, to your service." And in her best ministerial +manner, "Where is the child?" She tucked the paper bill into a glove. + +"Poughkeepsie,"--Sue gave her the address. "Go up this +afternoon--right away. And return the first thing in the morning. +Bring her straight to the Rectory. Now, you'll have quite a ride with +that baby, Dora. And I want you to get her ready for the happiest +moment in all her little life! Do you hear?--the happiest, Dora! And, +oh, here's where you must be eloquent!" + +"Oh, Miss Susan, 'I am of slow speech, and of a slow tongue.'" + +"I'll tell you what to say," reassured Sue. "You say to her that +you're bringing her to her mother; and that she's going to live with +her mother, in a little cottage somewhere--a cottage running over with +roses." + +"Roses," echoed Dora, and counting on her fingers, "--mother, cottage, +garden----" + +"And tell her that she's got a dear mother--so brave, and good, and +sweet, and pretty. And her mother loves her--don't forget that!--loves +her better than anything else in the whole world----" + +"Loves her," checked off Dora, pulling aside another finger; "--brave, +good, sweet, pretty----" + +"Yes, and there's going to be no more boarding out--no more forever! +Oh, the lonely little heart!" Sue took Dora by both shoulders. "Her +mother's waiting for her! Her mother! Her own mother!" + +"Boarding out,"--checking again; "--waiting mother. Miss Susan, I +shall return by the first train tomorrow, Providence permitting." This +last was accompanied by a solemn look at Mrs. Milo, and a roguish +hop-skip that freed her from Sue's hold. + +"Oh, the very first!" urged Sue. "Dora!" + +Dora swung herself out. + +Now Mrs. Milo seemed her usual self once more. "Then Mrs. Farvel will +not remain at the Rectory?" she inquired. + +"Oh, how could she? Of course not! They called me in to tell me: Mrs. +Farvel and Barbara will leave New York in two or three days." + +"Good! Meanwhile, we shall stay at the hotel with Mrs. Balcome." + +"But I _must_ go to the Rectory." + +"_I_ see no necessity." + +"Why, mother! Mrs. Farvel couldn't possibly go there without someone. +Surely you see how it is. Besides, there's the house--Dora's gone, and +I must go back." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind," returned Mrs. Milo, tartly. + +"Just for one night?" + +"Not for one hour. They will get someone else." + +"A stranger?--Now, mother! Mrs. Farvel needs me." + +"Oh, she needs you, does she?"--resentfully. "And I suppose your own +mother doesn't need you." + +"You'll be with Wallace." + +"So!" And with a taunting smile, "Perhaps Mr. Farvel also needs you." + +"No." But now a curious look came into Sue's eyes--a look of +comprehension. Jealousy! It was patent to her, as it had never been +before. Her mother was jealous of Farvel; fearful that even at so late +a date happiness might come to the middle-aged woman who was her +daughter. "No," she said again. "He doesn't need me." + +"_In_deed!" + +"No--I need him." + +Mrs. Milo was appalled. "A-a-a-ah! So _that's_ it! You need him! +Now, we're coming to the truth!" + +"Yes--the truth." + +"_That's_ why you couldn't rest till you'd followed this woman!" Mrs. +Milo pointed a trembling hand toward the double door. "You were sure +it was some love-affair. And you were jealous!" + +Sue laughed. "Jealous," she repeated, bitterly. + +"Yes, jealous! The fact of the matter is, you're crazy about Alan +Farvel!" She was panting. + +"And if--I am?" asked Sue. + +"_Oh!_" It was a cry of fury. With a swift movement, Mrs. Milo passed +Sue, pulled at the double door, and stood, bracing herself, as she +almost shrieked down at Clare, kneeling before an open suitcase. +"You've done this! You! You dragged my son down, and now you're +coming between me and my daughter!" + +Clare rose, throwing a garment aside. + +"Mother! Mother!" Sue tried to draw her mother away. + +Mrs. Milo retreated, but only to let Clare enter, followed by Farvel. + +"Go back!" begged Sue. "Go back!--Mr. Farvel, take her!" + +"Come, Laura! Come!" + +But Clare would not go. "Yes, come--and let her wreak her meanness on +Miss Milo! No! Here's a sample of what you're going to get, Alan, for +insisting on my going to that Rectory. So you'd better hear it. I +told you the plan is a mistake." And to Mrs. Milo, "Let's hear what +you've got to say." + +Righteous virtue glittered in the blue eyes. "I've got this to say!" +she cried. "You've been missing ten years--ten years of running around +loose. What've you been up to? Are you fit to be a friend of my +daughter?" + +Sue flung an arm about Clare. "I am her friend!" she declared. "I +won't judge her!--Oh, mother!" + +It only served to rouse Mrs. Milo further. "Ah, she knows I'm +right!--You're going to lie, are you? You're going to palm yourself +off on a decent man! Ha! You won't fool anybody! You're marked! +Look in this glass!" She caught up the hand-mirror lying on the table +and thrust it before Clare's face. "Look at yourself! It's as easy to +read as paper written over with nasty things! Your paint and powder +won't cover it! The badness sticks out like a scab!" Then as Clare, +with a sudden twist of the body, and a sob, hid her face against Sue, +Mrs. Milo tossed the mirror to the table. "There!" she cried. "I've +had my say! Now take your bleached fallen woman to the Rectory!" And +with a look of defiance, she went back to the rocking-chair and sat. + +No one spoke for a moment. Sue, holding the weeping girl in her arms, +and soothing her with gentle pats on the heaving shoulders, looked at +her mother, answering the other's defiant stare angrily. "Ah, cruel! +Cruel!" she said, presently. "And I know why. Oh, don't you feel that +we should do everything in our power for Mr. Farvel, and not act like +this? Haven't we Milos done enough to give him sorrow?" (It was +characteristic that she did not say "Wallace," but charged his +wrong-doing against the family.) "Here's our chance to be a little bit +decent. And now you attack her. But--it's not because you think she's +sinned: it's because you think I'm going--to the Rectory." + +Now Clare freed herself gently from Sue's embrace, lifting her head +wearily. "Oh, I might as well tell you both"--she looked at Farvel, +too--"that she's right about me. There have been--other things." + +Sue caught her hands. "Oh, then forget them!" she cried. "And +remember only that you're going to be happy again!" + +Clare hung her head. "But the lies," she reminded, under her breath. +"The lies. Felix, he won't forgive me. I _am_ engaged to him. And he +doesn't know that I've ever been married before. That's why I was so +scared when I saw--when I guessed Alan was at the Rectory. And why I +wanted to--to sneak a little while ago. Oh, I can't ever face Felix! +I--I've never even told him that Barbara is mine." + +"Let _me_ tell him.--And surely marriage and a daughter aren't crimes. +And he'll respect you for clinging to the child." + +"He knows I meant to desert her," Clare whispered back. "Oh, Miss +Milo, there's something wrong about me! I bore her. But I'm not her +mother. I never can be. Some women are mothers just naturally. Look +how those choir-boys love you! 'Momsey' they call you--'Momsey.' Ha! +They know a mother when they see one!" + +Mrs. Milo rocked violently, darting a scornful look at the little +group. "Disgusting!" she observed. + +The three gave her no notice. "You'll grow to love your baby," +declared Sue. "You can't help it. Just wait till you've got a +home--instead of a boarding-house. And trust us, and let us help you." + +A wan smile. "Ah, how dear and good you are!" breathed the girl. +"Will you kiss me?" + +"God love you!" Once more Sue caught the slender figure to her. + +"So good! So good!"--weeping. + +"Now no more tears! Let me see a smile!" Sue lifted the wet face. + +Clare smiled and turned away. "I'll finish in here," she said, and +went into the other room. + +Farvel made as if to follow, but turned back. "Ah, Sue Milo, you are +dear and good!" he faltered. Then coming to take her hand, "Your +tenderness to Laura--your thought of the child! Ah, you're a woman in +a million! How can I ever get on without you!" He raised her hand to +his lips, held it a moment tightly between both of his, and went out. + +Mrs. Milo had risen. Now she watched her daughter--the look Sue gave +Farvel, and the glance down at the hand just caressed. To the jealous +eyes of the elder woman, the clergyman's action, so full of tender +admiration, conveyed but one thing--such an attachment as she had +charged against Sue, and which now seemed fully reciprocated. With a +burst of her ever available tears, she dropped back into her chair. + +But the tears did not avail. For Sue stayed where she was. And her +face was grave with understanding. "Ah, mother," she said, with a +touch of bitterness. "I knew my happiness would make you happy!" + +"Laura!" It was Farvel, calling from the back-parlor. "Laura! Laura! +Where are you?" + +Sue met him as he rushed in. "What----?" + +"She's not there!" He ran to the hall door, calling as before. + +"She's gone?" Sue went the opposite way, to look from the rear +back-parlor window that commanded a small square of yard. + +Mrs. Milo ceased to weep. + +"Laura! Laura!" Farvel called up the stairs. + +"Hello-o-o-o!" sang back Tottie. + +"Laura! Laura!" Now Farvel was on the steps outside. He descended to +the sidewalk, turned homeward, halted, reconsidering, then hurried the +opposite way. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Hat in hand, and on tiptoe, Clare slipped from her room to the hall, +and down the stairs leading to the service-entrance beneath the front +steps. Her coat was over an arm, and a Japanese wrist-bag hung beside +it. As noiselessly as possible, she let herself out. Then bareheaded +still, but not too hurriedly, and forcing a pleasant, unconcerned +expression, she turned away from the brownstone house--going toward the +Rectory. + +Across the street, waiting under steps that offered him the right +concealment, a man was loitering. In the last hour he had seen a +number of people enter Tottie's, and five had left--the child and Mrs. +Colter, a fat man and a slim, and a quaint-looking girl with her hair +in pig-tails. He had stayed on till Clare came out; then as she fled, +but without a single look back, he prepared to follow. + +But he did not forsake his hiding-place until she had turned the first +corner. Then he raced forward, peered around the corner cautiously, +located her by the bobbing of her yellow head among other heads all +hatted, and fell in behind her at a discreet distance. + +Now she put on her hat--but without stopping. She adjusted her coat, +too. At the end of the block, she crossed the street and made a second +turn. + +Once more the man ran at top speed, and was successful in locating the +hat tilted so smartly. And again he settled down to the pace no faster +than hers. Thus the flight and the pursuit began. + +At first, Clare walked at a good rate, with her head held high. But +gradually she went more slowly, and with head lowered, as if she were +thinking. + +She did not travel at random. Her course was a northern one, though +she turned to right and left alternately, so that she traced a Greek +pattern. Presently, rounding a corner, she turned up the steps of a +house exteriorally no different from Tottie's, save for the changed +number on the tympanum of colored glass above its front door, and the +white card lettered in black in a front window--a card that marked the +residence as the headquarters of the Gramercy Club for Girls. + +Clare rang. + +The man came very near to missing her as she waited for the answering +of the bell. And it seemed as if she could not fail to see him, for +she looked about her from the top of the steps. When she was admitted, +he sat down on a coping to consider his next move. + +Twice he got up and went forward as it to mount the steps of the Club; +but both times he changed his mind. Then, near at hand, occupying a +neighboring basement, he spied a small shop. In the low window of the +shop, among hats and articles of handiwork, there swung a bird-cage. +He hurried across the street, entered the store, still without losing +sight of the steps of the Club, and called forward the brown-cheeked, +foreign-looking girl busily engaged with some embroidery in the rear of +the place. A question, an eager reply, a taking down of the canary, +and he went out, carrying the cage. + +Very erect he was as he strode back to the Club. Here was a person +about to go through with an unpleasant program, but virtuously +determined on his course. His jaw was set grimly. He climbed to the +storm-door, and rang twice, keeping his finger on the bell longer than +was necessary. Then, very deliberately, he adjusted his _pince-nez_. + +A maid answered his ring--a maid well past middle-age, with gray hair, +and an air of authority. She looked her displeasure at his prolonged +summoning. + +"Miss Crosby is here," he began; "I mean the young woman who just came +in." He was very curt, very military; and ignored the reproof in her +manner. "Please say that Mr. Hull has come." + +The maid promptly admitted him. + +But to make sure that he would not fail in his purpose to see +Clare--that she would not escape from the Club as quietly as she had +left Tottie's, he now lifted the bird-cage into view. "Tell Miss +Crosby that Mr. Hull has brought the canary," he added. + +"Very well,"--the servant went up the stairs at a leisurely pace that +was irritating. + +She did not return. Instead, Clare herself appeared at the top of the +staircase, and descended slowly, looking calmly at him as she came. +Her hat was off, and she had tidied her hair. Something in her manner +caused him to move his right arm, as if he would have liked to screen +the cage. She glanced at the bird, then at him. Her look disconcerted +him. His _pince-nez_ dropped to the end of its ribbon, and clinked +musically against a button. + +She did not speak until she reached his side. "I just called the +Northrups on the 'phone and asked for you," she began. + +"Oh?" He made as if to set the cage down. + +"You'd better bring it into the sitting-room," she said. + +"Yes." He reddened. + +The sitting-room of the Club was a full sister to that garish +front-parlor of Tottie's, but a sister tastefully dressed. The +woodwork was ivory. The walls were covered with silk tapestry in which +an old-blue shade predominated. The curtains of velvet, and the chairs +upholstered in the same material, were of a darker blue that toned in +charmingly with the walls. Oriental rugs covered the floor. + +"You need not have brought an--excuse," Clare observed, as she closed +the door to the hall. + +"Well, I thought," he explained, smiling a little sheepishly, "that +perhaps----" + +"Particularly," she interrupted, cuttingly, "as I remember how you said +a little while ago that you hate a liar." She lifted her brows. + +She had caught him squarely. The cage was a lie. He put it behind a +chair, where it would be out of sight. + +"Well, you see," he went on lamely, "if you hadn't wanted to see me, +why--why----" (Here he was, apologetic!) + +"Oh, I quite understand. It's always legitimate for a man to cheat a +woman, isn't it? It's not legitimate for a woman to cheat a man." She +seated herself. + +He winced. He had expected something so different--weeping, pleading, +the wringing of hands; or, a hidden face and heaving shoulders, and, of +course, more lies. Instead, here was only quiet composure, more +dignity of carriage than he had ever noted in her before, and a firmly +shut mouth. He had anticipated being hurt by the sobbing confessions +he would force from her. But her cool indifference, her +self-possession, were hurting him far more. Their positions were +unpleasantly reversed. And he was standing before her, as if he, and +not she, was the culprit! + +"Sit down, please," she bade, courteously. + +He sat, pulling at his mustache. Now he was getting angry. His look +roved beyond her, as he sought for the right beginning. + +"What I'd like to ask," he commenced, "is, are you prepared to tell me +all I ought to know--about yourself?" ("Tell me the truth" was what he +would have liked to say, but the confounded cage made impossible any +allusion to truth!) + +She smiled. "And I'd like to know, are you prepared to tell me +all--all I ought to know--about yourself?" + +"Oh, now come!" he returned--and could go no further. Here was more of +the unexpected: he was being put on the defensive! + +"You've been a soldier," she went on; "you've seen a lot of the world +before you met me. But you didn't recite anything you'd done. You +expected me to take you 'as is,' and I thought, naturally enough, that +that was the way you meant to take me." + +"But I don't see why a girl should know about matters in which she is +not concerned--which were a part of a man's past." + +"Exactly. And that's just the way I felt about matters in which you +were not concerned. But--I was wrong, wasn't I? You're not an +American. You're a European. And you have the Continental attitude +toward women--proprietorship, and so on." + +He stared. He had never heard her talk like this before. "Ah, um," he +murmured, still worrying the mustache. She was using no slang, and +that "Continental attitude"--his glance said, "Where did you come by +_that_?" + +"I've known all along that you had the Old World bias--the idea that it +is justice for the Pot to call the Kettle black--the idea that a man +can do anything, but that a woman is lost forever if she happens to +make one mistake. That all belongs, of course, right back where you +came from. No doubt your mother taught----" + +"Please leave my mother out of this discussion!" Here was something he +could say with great severity and dignity--something that would imply +the contrast between what Clare Crosby stood for and the high standards +of his mother, whose fame might not be tarnished even through the +mention of her name by a culpable woman. + +Clare laughed. "Early Victorian," she commented, cheerfully; "that +do-not-sully-the-fair-name-of-mother business. It's in your blood, +Felix,--along with the determination you feel never to change when once +you've made up your mind, as if your mind were something that has set +itself solid, as metal does when it's run into a mold." + +"Oh, indeed! Just like that!" + +She nodded. "Precisely. And when you make up your mind that someone +is wrong, or has hurt your vanity (which is worse), you are just +middle-class enough to love to swing a whip." + +He got up. "Pardon me if I don't care to listen to your opinion of me +any longer," he said. "It just happens that I've caught you at your +tricks today." + +"It just happens that you _think_ you've caught me--you've dropped to +that conclusion. But--do you know anything?" + +"Well--well,----" + +"You shall. Please sit down again. And feel that you were +justified--that I am really a culprit of some kind--just as you are." + +He sat, too astonished to retort--but too curious to take himself away. + +"Because I really want to tell you quite a little about myself." There +was a glint of real humor in her eyes. "And first of all, I want to +tell the real truth, and it'll make you feel a lot better--it'll soothe +your vanity." + +"You seem to have a rather sudden change in your opinion of me." He +tried to be sarcastic. And he leaned back, folding his arms. + +"Oh, no. I've always known that you were vain, and hard. But I didn't +expect perfection." + +"Ah." + +"But, first, let me tell you--when I left Tottie's just now, I thought +of the river. Suicide--that's what first came to my mind." + +"I'm very glad you changed it,"--this with almost a parental note. Her +mention of the river had soothed his vanity! + +"Oh, are you?" She laughed merrily. + +"And what brought about the--the----" + +"Sue Milo." + +"Er--who do you say?" He had expected a compliment. + +"A woman you don't know--a woman that you must have seen go into +Tottie's just after Barbara left--as you stood sentry." + +"Ah, yes." He had the grace to blush again. + +"She is the secretary at the Church near by--you know, St. Giles. She +keeps books, and answers telephones, and types sermons, and does all +the letters for the Rector--formerly my husband." + +An involuntary start--which he adroitly made the beginning of an assent. + +"I've met her only a few times. But I feel as if I'd known her all my +life. Oh, how dear _her_ attitude was!" Sudden tears trembled in her +eyes. + +"Different from mine, eh?" + +"Absolutely! It was the contrast between you and her that made me see +things as they are--twenty blocks, I walked--and such a change!" + +"Fancy!" + +"When I was thinking I might as well die, I said, 'If _he_ were in +trouble today, I'd be tender and kind to him. But when I cried out to +him, what I got was no faith--no help--only suspicion.' All my +devotion since I've known you--it counted for nothing the moment you +knew something was wrong. And I was half-crazy with fear just at the +thought of losing you." Her look said that she had no such fear now. + +He shifted his feet uneasily. + +"Then I said to myself, 'Why, you poor thing, it's only a question of +time when you'd lose him anyhow.' Even if we married, Felix, we +wouldn't be happy long. It would be like living over a charge of +dynamite. Any minute our home might blow up." + +He smiled loftily. "And Miss--er--What's-her-name, she fixed +everything?" + +"She helped me! I've never met anyone just like her before. I've met +plenty of the holier-than-thou variety. That's the only sort I knew +before I ran away from my husband." She was finding relief in talking +so frankly. "Then there's Tottie's kind--ugh! But Miss Milo is the +new kind--a woman with a fair attitude toward other women; with a +generous attitude toward mistakes even. That old lady you saw go +in--she's so good that she'd send me to the stake." She laughed. "But +her daughter--if she knew that I had sinned as much as you have, she'd +treat me even better than she'd treat you." + +"You'll be a militant next," he observed sneeringly. + +"Oh, I'm one already! But I'm not blaming anything on anybody else. +For whatever's gone wrong, I can just thank myself. All these ten +years, I've taken the attitude that I mustn't be discovered--that I +must hide, hide, hide. I have been living over a charge of dynamite, +and I set it myself. I've been afraid of a scarecrow that I dressed +myself. + +"I don't know why I did it. Because if they'd ever traced me, what +harm would it have done?--I wouldn't have gone back unless I was +carried by main force. But the papers said I was dead. So I just set +myself to keep the idea up. Next thing, I met you. Then I wasn't +afraid of a shadow--I had something real to fear: losing you. + +"But now I don't care what you think, or what you're going to do, or +what you say. I'm not even going to let Alan Farvel think that +Barbara's his--when she isn't." + +He shot a swift look at her. So! The child was her own, after all! +His lip curled. + +She understood. "Oh, get the whole thing clear while you're about it," +she said indifferently. "I'm not trying to cover. At least I didn't +lose sight of the child. Miss Milo praised me for that.--But--the +truth is, I'm not like most other women. I'm not domestic. I never +can be. Why worry about it." + +"You take it all very cool, I must say! And you're jolly sure of +yourself. Don't need help, eh? Highty-tighty all at once." But there +was a note of respect in his voice. + +"I've got friends," she said proudly. "And if I need help I know where +to get it." + +The maid entered. "Your tea is ready, Miss." + +Clare stood up and put out a hand. "We'll run across each other again, +I suppose," she said cordially. + +He could scarcely believe his ears--which were burning. "Oh, then +you're not lighting out?" + +"When I love little old New York so much? Not a chance! No, you can +go and get your supper without a fear." She laughed saucily. Then as +he turned, "Oh, don't forget the bird." + +He leaned down, hating her for the ridiculousness of his situation. He +did not glance round again. The gray-haired maid showed him out. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +With a sigh of relief, Mrs. Milo rose, adjusted her bonnet, and, to +make sure that her appearance justified her going out upon the street, +took up from the table that same hand-mirror which she had thrust +before Clare's face. "So she's gone," she observed. She turned her +head from side to side, delicately touching hair and bonnet, and the +lace at her throat. "Well, it's for the best, I've no doubt.--And now +we can go home." + +Sue did not move. She had come back from her quick survey of the rear +yard to stand at the center of the front room--to stand very straight, +her head up, her eyes wide and fixed on space, her face strangely white +and stern. + +"Susan?" Mrs. Milo took out and replaced a hairpin. + +Sue Stirred. "Do you mean to _his_ home?" she asked slowly. + +"I mean to the Rectory." The glass was laid back upon the table. + +"After what you've said?" + +"What I said was true." + +"Ah!--You believe in speaking--the truth?" + +"What a question, my daughter!"--fondly. + +"Even when the truth is bitter--and _hard_!" She trembled, and drew in +her breath at the remembrance of that scathing arraignment. + +"Shall we start?" + +"But he has asked you not to return. And it's you who have sent her +away. And the little one is coming. You can't go to the Rectory." + +"Oh, indeed?" queried Mrs. Milo, sarcastically. "And are you going?" + +Sue waited a moment. Then, "My work is there." + +Mrs. Milo started. "Now let me tell you something!" she cried, +throwing up her head. "You've disobeyed me once today----" + +Sue smiled. "Disobeyed!" she repeated. + +"--If you disobey me again--if you go back to the Rectory without +me----" + +"I shall certainly go back." + +"--You shan't have one penny of your father's life insurance! Not one! +I'll leave every cent of it to Wallace!" + +Again Sue smiled. "Ah, you're independent of me, aren't you?" + +"Quite--thank Providence!" + +"No. Thank me. All these years you've had that insurance money out +earning interest. You haven't had to use any of it, or even any of its +earnings----" + +"It has grown, I'm happy to say." + +"Until you have plenty. Meanwhile, I've paid all of your expenses, and +educated my brother. Now--you can dispense with--your meal-ticket." + +"_Meal_-ticket!" It was not the implied charge, but the slang, that +shocked. + +"Yes, meal-ticket." + +"So you throw it up! You've been supporting me! And helping Wallace!" + +"I've been glad to. Every hour at my machine has been a happy one. +I've never begrudged what I've done." + +"Well, anyhow, I shan't need to take any more support from you, nor +will my son." + +Sue laughed grimly. "I don't know about that, mother. I'm afraid he's +going to miss his chance to marry a rich girl. And he's never been +very successful in making his own way." + +Mrs. Milo would not be diverted from the main issue. "I repeat, Susan: +You disobey me, as you've threatened to, and I'm done with you. +Understand that. You'll go your way, and I will go mine." + +Sue nodded. She understood. Her mother had announced her ultimatum to +Farvel, and he had accepted it. Mrs. Milo could not return to the +Rectory. But if Sue continued her work there, it meant that she would +enjoy a happy companionship with the clergyman--a companionship +unhindered by the presence of the elder woman. Such a state of affairs +might even end in marriage. And now Sue knew it was marriage that her +mother feared. + +"Very well, mother." + +"Ah, you like the separation plan!" + +"We're as wide apart in our ideas as the poles." + +"I have certainly been very much mistaken in you. Though I thought I +knew my own daughter! But--you belong with the Farvels, and it's a +pity she has run away. Perhaps she'll turn up later on." She spoke +quietly, but she was livid with anger. "I shall not be there to +interfere with your friendship. I am going to the hotel now. You can +direct my poor boy to me, if it isn't too much trouble." + +"So you are going." Then smiling wistfully, "But who will fuss over +you when you're not sick? And coax you out of your nerves? And wait +on you like a lady's maid? And how will you be able to keep an eye on +me, mother? 'Who's telephoning you, Susan?' And 'Who's your letter +from, darling?'" Then with sarcasm, "Oh, hen-pecked Susan, is it +possible that you'll be able to go to Church without a chaperone? That +you can go down town without having to report home at half-hour +intervals?" + +"Well! Well! Well!" marveled Mrs. Milo. She walked to the window +before retorting further. Then, with a return to the old methods of +playing for sympathy, "And here I've thought that you were contented +and happy with me! But--it seems that your mother isn't enough." + +The attempt failed. "Was your mother enough?" demanded Sue. + +Mrs. Milo came strolling back. Was it possible that tactics invariably +efficacious in the past would utterly fail her today? She made a +second attempt. "But--but do you realize," she faltered, with what +seemed deep feeling; "--your father died when Wallace was so little. +If you hadn't helped me, how would I have gotten on? If you'd +married----" + +"Couldn't I have helped you?" + +"But I had Wallace so late. And I'd have been alone. What would I +have done without my daughter?" + +Sue was regarding her steadily. "What did your mother do without you? +And when you die, where shall _I_ be?--Alone! Ah, you've seen the +pathos of your own situation!--But how about mine?" For a second time +in a single day, this was a changed Sue, unaccountably clear-visioned, +and plain of speech. + +"Dear me!" cried her mother, mockingly. "Our eyes are open all of a +sudden!" + +"Yes,--my eyes are open." + +"Why not open your mouth?" + +"Thank you for the suggestion. I shall. For twenty-five years, my +eyes have been shut. I've always said, 'My mother is sweet, and pious, +and kind. She's one of that lovely type that's passing.' (Thank +Heaven, the type _is_ passing!) If now and then you were a little +severe with me--oh, I've noticed it because people have sometimes +interfered, as Hattie did this morning--I've never minded at all. I've +said, 'Whatever I am, I owe to my mother. And what she does is right.' +Anything you said or did to me never made any difference in the +wonderful feeling I had about you--the feeling of love and belief. All +this time I've never once thought of rebelling. But what you said and +did to another--to her, a girl who needs kindness and sympathy, who's +never done you an intentional wrong----! Oh, you're not really gentle +and charitable! You're cruel, mother!" + +"I am just." + +"The right kind of a woman today gives other women a chance for their +lives--their happiness. That is real piety. She makes allowances. +She's slow to condemn." + +"You don't have to tell me that loose standards prevail." + +Sue did not seem to hear. "All these years you've talked to me about +the home--the home with a capital H. Your home--which you'd 'kept +together'--the American home--wave the flag! And I've always believed +that you meant what you said. But today I understand your real +attitude. First, because you weren't willing to give that poor +cornered girl a chance at one. You intruded into her room and +deliberately drove her away." + +"She ran away once from a good home with a good man." She paid Farvel +the compliment unconsciously--and unintentionally. + +"Then consider my case,"--it was as if Sue were speaking to herself. +"Why haven't you given me a chance? For all these years, if a man +looked cross-eyed at me, was he ever asked to call on us?" + +"Such nonsense!" + +"If he did, somehow or other there was trouble. You would cry, and say +I didn't love you--or you pretended to find something wrong with him, +and he didn't come again. And once--once I remember that you claimed +that you were ill--though I think I guessed that you weren't--and away +we went for a change of air. Oh, peace at any price!" + +Mrs. Milo grew scarlet. "Ha!" she scoffed. "So _I'm_ to blame for +your not being married! I've stood in your way!" + +"Just think how you've acted today--the way you acted over this +dress--you can't bear to see me look well? Why?--Yes, you've stood in +my way from the very first." + +"I deny it! _You'd_ better look in the mirror." She picked it up and +held it out to Sue. "You know, you're not a sweet young thing." + +Sue took the glass, and held it before her, gazing sadly at her +reflection. "No," she answered. "But I can remember when I was +sweet--and young." She laid the mirror down. + +Mrs. Milo felt the necessity of toning her remarks. She spoke now with +no rancor--but firmly. "Your lack of judgment was excusable then," she +declared. "But now--this interest in any and every child--in Farvel, a +man younger than yourself--it's silly, Sue. It's disgusting--in an old +maid." + +"Any and every child," repeated Sue. "Oh, selfish! Selfish! Selfish!" + +"No one can accuse me of that! I've been trying to save you from +making yourself ridiculous." + +"To save me! Why, mother, you can't bear to see me give one hour to +those poor, deserted orphans. If I go over to see them, you go along. +And how many friends have I? Every thought I have must be for you! +you! you!" + +"I have exacted the attention that a mother should have." + +"And no more? But what about Wallace? Have you exacted the attention +from him that you should have? Does he owe you nothing? Why shouldn't +he spend what he earns in caring for his mother, instead of spending +every penny as he pleases? Is there one set of rules for daughters, +and another for sons? Why haven't you tied him up? Are you sure he's +capable, when he reaches Peru, of supporting a wife? Or will he simply +draw on Mr. Balcome--the way he's lived on me." + +"You ought to be ashamed to speak of your brother in such a way!" + +"How much more ashamed he ought to be to think that he's deserving of +such criticism." + +"I can't think what has come over you!" + +"It's what you said a moment ago: My eyes are opened. At eighteen +years of age, you planned your future for yourself. But you needed +me--so you claimed me, body and soul! And you've let me give you my +whole girlhood--my young womanhood. You've kept me single--and very +busy. And now,--I'm an old maid!" + +The blue eyes glinted with satisfaction. "Well, you are an old maid." + +"An old maid! In other words, my purity's a joke!" + +"Now, we're getting vulgar." + +"Vulgar? Have you forgotten what you said to Laura Farvel? You +taunted her because she's not 'good' as you call it. And you taunt me +because I am! But who is farther in the scheme of things--she or I? I +envy her because she's borne a child. At least she's a woman. Nature +means us to marry and have our little ones. The women who don't +obey--what happens to them? The years go"--she looked away now, beyond +the walls of Tottie's front-parlor, at a picture her imagining called +up--"the light fades from their eyes, the gloss from their hair; they +get 'peculiar.' And people laugh at them--and I don't wonder!" Then +passionately, "Look at me! Mature! Unmarried! Childless! Where in +Nature do I belong? Nowhere! I'm a freak!" + +"No, my dear." Mrs. Milo smiled derisively. "You're a martyr." + +"Yes! To my mother." + +"Don't forget"--the well-bred voice grew shrill--"that I _am_ your +mother." + +"You gave me birth. But--reproduction isn't motherhood." + +"Ah!"--mockingly. "So I haven't loved you!" + +"Oh, you've loved me," granted Sue. "You've loved me too much--in the +wrong way. It's a mistaken love that makes a mother stand between her +daughter and happiness." + +"I deny----" + +"Wait!--I got the proof today! I repeat--you forgot everything you've +ever stood for at the mere thought that happiness was threatening to +come my way." + +Mrs. Milo's eyes widened with apprehension. Involuntarily she glanced +at the hand which Farvel had lifted to kiss. + +"I ought to have known that my first duty was to myself," Sue went on +bitterly; "--to my children. But--I put away my dreams. And now! My +eyes are open too late! I've found out my mistake--too late! No +son--no daughter--'Momsey,' but never 'Mother.' And, oh, how my heart +has craved it all--a home of my own, and someone to care for me. And +my arms have ached for a baby!" + +"Ha! Ha!"--Mrs. Milo found it all so ridiculous. "A baby! Well,--why +don't you have one?" + +For a long moment, Sue looked at her mother without speaking. "Oh, I +know why you laugh," she said, finally. "I'm--I'm forty-five. +But--after today, _I'm_ going to do some laughing! I'm going to do +what I please, and go where I please! I'm free! I'm free at last!" +She cried it up to the chandelier. "From today, I'm free! This is the +Emancipation Proclamation! This is the Declaration of Independence!" + +Mrs. Milo moved away, smiling. At the door she turned. "What can you +do?" she asked, teasingly; "--at _your_ age!" + +Sue buttoned her coat over the bridesmaid's dress. "What can I do?" +she repeated. "Well, mother dear, just watch me!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +The Close was the favorite retreat of the Rectory household. In the +wintertime, it was a windless, sunny spot, never without bird-life, for +to it fared every sparrow of the neighborhood, knowing that the two +long stone benches in the yard would be plentifully strewn with crumbs, +and that no prowling cat would threaten a feathered feaster. + +With the coming of spring, the small inclosure was like a chalice into +which the sun poured a living stream. Here the lawn early achieved a +startling greenness as well as a cutable height; here a pair of peach +trees dared to put out leaves despite any pronouncement of the +calendar; and in the Close, even before open cars began their run along +the near-by avenue, a swinging-couch with a shady awning was installed +at one side; while opposite, beyond the sun-dial, and nearer to the +drawing-room, a lawn marquee went up, to which Dora brought both +breakfast and luncheon trays. + +The Close, shut in on its four sides, afforded its visitors perfect +privacy. The high blank wall of an office building, which had +conformed its architecture to that of the Church and the other +structures related to the Church, lifted on one hand to what--from the +velvet square of the little yard--seemed the very sky. Directly across +from the office building was the Rectory; and two windows of the +drawing-room, as well as two upper windows (the window of a guest-room +and the window of "the study") opened upon it. + +One face of the Church, ivy-grown and beautified with glowing eyes of +stained-glass, looked across the stretch of green to a high brick wall +which shut off the sights and sounds of the somewhat narrow and fairly +quiet street. It was over this wall that the peach trees waved their +branches, and in the late summer dropped a portion of their fruit. And +it was in this wall that there opened a certain door to the Close which +was never locked--a little door, painted a gleaming white, through +which the Orphanage babies came, to be laid in the great soft-quilted +basket that stood on a stone block beneath a low gable-roof of stone. + +On this perfect spring morning, the Close was transformed, for the +swinging-couch and the lawn marquee were gone, and a great wedding-bell +of hoary blossoms was in its place, hung above the wide flagstone which +lay before this side entrance to the Church. Flanking the bell on +either hand, flowers and greenery had been massed by the decorators to +achieve an altar-like effect. And above the bell, roofing the +improvised altar, was a canopy of smilax, as Gothic in design as the +vari-tinted windows to right and left. + +Discussing the unwonted appearance of their haunt and home, the +bird-dwellers of the Close flew about in some excitement, or alighted +on wall and ledge to look and scold. And fully as noisy as the +sparrows, and laboring like Brownies to set the yard to rights +following the departure of the florist and his assistant, a trio of +boys from the choir raked and clipped and garnered into a sack. + +Ikey was in command, and wielded the lawn mower. Henry, a tall +mild-eyed lad, selected for the morning's pleasant duty in the Close in +order to reward him for irreproachable conduct during the week +previous, snipped at the uneven blades about the base of the sun-dial. +The third worker was Peter, a pale boy, chosen because an hour in the +open air would be of more value to him than an hour at his books. + +"I tell you she iss _not_ a Gentile!" denied Ikey, who was arrogant +over being armed with authority as well as lawn mower. + +"She is so!" protested Henry, with more than his usual warmth. + +"I know she ain't!" + +"Aw, she is, too!" + +"I asks her, 'Momsey, are you a Gentile?'" went on Ikey. "Und she +answers to me, 'Ikey, I am all kinds of religions.'--_Now_!" + +"Ain't her mother a Gentile?" demanded Henry. + +"I'm glat to say it!" + +"And her father was." + +"Sure! Just go in und look at him!" + +"Then what's the matter with you! She's _got_ to be a Gentile!" + +Ikey recognized the unanswerableness of the argument. "Vell," he +declared stoutly, "I lof her anyhow!" + +A fourth boy leaned from a drawing-room window. "Telephone!" he called +down. + +"Ach! Dat telephone!" Ikey propped himself against the sun-dial. +"Since yesterday afternoon alretty, she rings und nefer stops! 'Vere +iss Miss Hattie?'--dat Wallace, he iss awful lofsick! 'I don't know.' +'Vere iss Miss Susan?' 'I don't know.' 'Vere iss my daughter?'--de +olt lady! 'I don't know.'--All night by dat telephone, I sit und lie!" + +"Ha! Ha!" Peter, the pale, seized the excuse to drop back upon the +cool grass. "How can you _sit_ and _lie_?" + +"Smarty, you're too fresh!" charged Ikey. "How can you sit und be +lazy? Look vat stands on dis sun-dial!--_Tempus Fugits_. Dat means, +'De morning iss going.' So you pick up fast all de grass bits by de +benches.--Und if somebody asks, 'Vere iss Mr. Farvel,' I says, 'I don't +know,' und dat iss de truth. Because he iss gone oudt all night, und +dat iss not nice for ministers." He shook his head at the lawn mower. + +"Say, a woman wants to talk with Mrs. Milo," reminded the boy who was +hanging out of the window. + +"She can vant so much as she likes," returned Ikey, mowing calmly. + +"Oo! You oughta heard her!--Shall I say she's gone?" + +"Say she's gone, t'ank gootness," instructed Ikey. And as the boy +precipitated himself backward out of sight, "Ach, dat's vat's wrong mit +dis world!--de mutter business. Mrs. Milo, Mrs. Bunkum, und your +mutter, und your mutter----" + +"Aw, my mother's as good as your mother!" boasted Henry, chivalrously. + +"Dat can't be. Because you nefer _hat_ a mutter--you vas left in dat +basket." He pointed. "Vasn't you? Und _my_ mutter"--proudly--"she +iss dead." + +Peter lifted longing eyes. "Gee, I wish _I_ had a mother." + +"A-a-a-ah!" Ikey waggled a wise head. "You kids, you vould like goot +mutters--und you git left in baskets. Und Momsey says dat lots of +times mutters dat _iss_ goot mutters, dey don't haf no children." Then +to Henry, who, like Peter, had seized upon an excuse for pausing in his +work, "Here! Git busy mit de shears! Ofer by de vall iss plenty +schnippin'." + +Henry tried flattery. "I like to hear y' talk," he confessed. + +"Ve-e-e-ell,--" Ikey was touched by this appreciation of his +philosophizing. + +"And I'm kinda tired." + +Now Ikey's virtuous wrath burst forth. He fixed the tall boy with a +scornful eye. "Oh, you kicker!" he cried. "You talk tired--und you do +like you please! Und you say Momsey so much as you vant to! Momsey! +Momsey! Momsey! Momsey!" Each time the lawn mower squeaked and +rattled its emphasis. "Und de olt lady, she iss gone!" + +All the sparrows watching the laboring trio from safe vantage points +now rose with a soft whirr of wings and a quick chorus of twitters as +Farvel opened the door from the Church and came out. A long black gown +hung to his feet, but this only served to accentuate the paleness of +his newly-shaven cheeks. "Ah, fine!" he greeted kindly; "the yard is +beginning to look first-class." Then as the bearer of the telephone +message now projected himself once more between the curtains of the +drawing-room, this time to proffer a package, "Not for me, is it, my +boy?--Get it, Ikey, please." He sat down wearily. + +Ikey moved to obey, squinting back over a shoulder at the clergyman in +some concern. But the package in hand, he puzzled over that instead as +he came back. "It says on it 'Mr. Farvel,'" he declared. "Ain't it +so?" + +"Open it, old chap," bade Farvel, without looking up. + +Ikey needed no urging; and, his companions, once again welcoming an +interruption, gathered to watch. Off came a paper wrapping, disclosing +a box. Out came the cover of the box, disclosing--in a gorgeous +confection of silk, lace, and tulle, with flowers in her flaxen hair, +and blue eyes that were alternately opening and shutting with almost +human effect as Ikey moved the box--a large and remarkably handsome +lady doll. + +"_Oy, ich chalesh!_" cried Ikey, thrown back upon his Yiddish in the +amazement of discovery. + +Farvel sprang up, manifestly embarrassed, reached for the box, and put +it out of sight behind him as he sat again. "Oh!--Oh, that's all +right," he stammered. "It's for Barbara." + +"Bar-bar-a?" drawled the boy. Then following a pause, during which the +trio exchanged glances, "A little girl, she comes here?" + +"Yes, Ikey; yes.--Have you boys dusted the drawing-room? You know +Dora's not here today." + +"No, sir." Peter and Henry backed dutifully toward the door of the +Rectory. + +But Ikey stood his ground. "Does de little girl come by de basket?" he +inquired. + +"No, son; no. Dora will bring her.--Now run along like a good chap." + +Ikey backed a few steps. "Does--does she come to de Orphanage?" he +persisted. + +"No. She's not an orphan.--You see that Peter and Henry put everything +in shape, won't you?" + +At this, Peter and Henry disappeared promptly. But Ikey only backed +another step or two. "Den she's got a mutter?" he ventured. + +"Oh, yes--yes.--Be sure and dust the library." + +Ikey gave way another foot. "Und also a fader?" + +"Er--why--yes." + +Now Ikey nodded, and turned away. "He ain't so sure," he observed +sagely, "aboudt de fader." + +At this moment, loud voices sounded from the drawing-room--Henry's, +expostulating; next, the thin soprano of Peter; then a woman's, "Where +is he, I say? I want to see him!" And she came bursting from the +house, almost upsetting Ikey. + +It was Mrs. Balcome, looking exceedingly wrathful. She puffed her way +across the grass, clutching to her the unfortunate Babette, and +dragging (though she had just arrived) at the crumpled upper of a long +kid glove, much as if she were pulling it on preparatory to a fight. +"Mr. Farvel,"--he had risen politely--"I have come to take away the +presents and other things belonging to us. Since you have seen fit to +turn my best friend out of her home, naturally the wedding cannot be +solemnized here." + +Farvel bowed, reddening with anger. "Wallace Milo's wedding cannot be +solemnized here," he said quietly. + +"_In_-deed!" + +Ikey had entered with another box. She received it, scolding as she +put down the dog and pulled at the fastening of the package. "Oh, such +lack of charity! Such shameless lack of ordinary consideration! What +do you care that the wedding must take place at some hotel! And you +know these decorations won't keep! And it's a clergyman who's showing +such a spirit! That's what makes it more terrible! A man who +pretends----" Busy with the box, she had failed to see that Farvel was +no longer present. Now she whirled about, looking for him. "Oh, such +impudence! Such impudence!" she stormed. + +Ikey indicated the package. "De man, he said, 'Put it on ice,'" he +cautioned. + +"Ice?" Mrs. Balcome stared. "What's in it?" + +"It felt like somet'ing for a little girl." + +With a muttered exclamation, she threw the box upon the grass. "Is +Miss Susan here?" she demanded. + +"I don't know." Ikey's eyes were clear pools of truth. + +"Have my daughter and her father arrived yet?" + +"I don't know." + +"Well, have they telephoned?" Mrs. Balcome strove to curb her rising +irritation. + +"I don't know." + +Patience could bear no more. "What's the matter with you?" she cried. +"Don't you know anything?" + +"Not'ing," boasted Ikey. "I promised, now, dat I vouldn't, und I keep +my vord!" + +Mrs. Balcome seized him by a sleeve of his faded blue waist. "You +promised who?" she screeched, forgetting grammar in her anger. "I'll +report you to Mrs. Milo, that's what I'll do! How dare----" + +A hearty voice interrupted. "Good-morning, my boy! Good-morning!" +Balcome grinned broadly, pleased at this opportunity of contrasting his +cordiality with the harshness of his better half. + +Ikey was not slow in recognizing opportunity either. "Goot-mornin'," +he returned, ostentatiously rubbing an arm. + +"Is Miss Milo at home?" inquired Balcome, with exaggerated politeness, +enjoying the evident embarrassment of the lady present, who--not unlike +Lot's wife--had suddenly turned, as it were, into a frozen pillar. + +"I don't know," chanted Ikey. + +"Well, is Mr. Farvel at home?" + +Now, Ikey stretched out weary hand. "Oh, please," he begged, "_don't_ +make me lie no more!" + +"Ha-a-a-a?" cried Balcome. + +"_What?_" exclaimed Mrs. Balcome. + +Ikey nodded, shaking that injured finger. "To lie ain't Christian," he +reminded slyly. + +Balcome guffawed. But Mrs. Balcome, visited with a dire thought, +looked suddenly concerned. + +"Tell me:"--she came heaving toward Ikey once more; "did my +daughter stay last night with her father?" And as Ikey +stared, not understanding the system of family telephoning, +"Did--my--daughter--stay--last--night--with--her--father?" + +"But vy ask me?" complained Ikey. "Let him lie! Let him!" And he +started churchward. + +"Wait!" Balcome was bellowing now. "Where is my daughter?" + +"Didn't she stay with her father?" repeated Mrs. Balcome. + +"Didn't she stay with her mother?" cried Balcome. + +Ikey did not need to reply. For one question had answered the other. +With an "Oh! Oh!" of apprehension, Mrs. Balcome sank, a dead weight, +to a bench. + +"Where is she, I say? Where is she?" Now Balcome had the unfortunate +Ikey by a faded blue sleeve. He shook him so that all the curls on his +head bobbed madly. "Open your mouth!" + +"I don't know!" denied Ikey, desperately. + +"Good Heavens!" Balcome let him go, and paced the grass, clutching off +his hat and pounding at a knee with it. + +"Oh, what has happened! What has happened!" Mrs. Balcome rocked in +her misery. "Oh, and we had words last night--bitter words! Oh!" + +At this juncture, out from between the drawing-room curtains Henry +appeared, balancing himself on his middle, and handed down still +another package. Ikey ran to receive it, and as if to silence the +mourning with which the Close resounded, hastened to thrust the package +into the lap of the unhappy lady on the bench. + +The result was to increase Mrs. Balcome's sorrow. "Oh, my poor +Hattie!" she wept. "My poor child!" She pulled at the cord about the +bundle, and Balcome halted behind her to look on. "Here is another +gift for her wedding! Oh, how pitiful! How pitiful! A present from +someone who loves her! Who thought the dear child would be happy! +Something sweet and dainty"--the wrapping paper was torn off by +now--"to brighten her new home! Something----" + +A cover came off. And there, full in Mrs. Balcome's sight, lay a +good-sized, and very rosy Kewpie--blessed with little raiment but many +charms. + +"Baa-a-a-ah!"--a gesture of disgust, and the Kewpie was cast upon the +lawn. + +Wallace came hurrying from the house. He looked more bent than usual, +and if possible more pale. His clothes indicated that he had slept in +them. + +Balcome charged toward him. "Where's my daughter?" he asked, with a +head-to-foot look, much as if he suspicioned the younger man with +having Hattie concealed somewhere about him. + +"Wallace!" Mrs. Balcome held out stout arms to the newcomer. + +Wallace went to her. "I tried and tried to telephone her," he +answered. "And they told me they don't know where she is. So I've +come.--Oh, is it all right? What does she say? I want to see her!" + +"She's gone!" informed Balcome, his voice hollow. + +"She's gone! She's gone!" echoed Mrs. Balcome. She shook the stone +bench. + +"_Gone?_" Wallace clapped a hand to his forehead. + +"She's wandered away!" sobbed Mrs. Balcome. "Half-crazed with it all! +Heart-broken! Heart-broken!" + +With a muffled growl, Balcome once more fell upon Ikey, who had been +watching and listening from a discreet distance. "Where is Miss Milo, +I say!" he demanded as he swooped. + +But Ikey's determination did not fail him, though his teeth chattered. +"I--I--d-d-don't know!" he protested for the tenth time. + +"Oh, terrible! Terrible!"--this in a fresh burst from Mrs. Balcome. +"Oh, what did I say what I did for!" + +"Don't cry! Don't cry!" comforted Wallace. "We'll hunt for her. +Police, and detectives----" + +A crash of piano notes interrupted from the drawing-room. Then through +open door and windows floated the first bars of "Comin' Thro' the +Rye"--with an accompaniment in rag-time. As one the group in the Close +turned toward the house. + +"Hattie?" exclaimed Mrs. Balcome. + +"Hattie!" faltered Wallace. + +"Hattie!"--it was a crisp bass summons from Hattie's father. + +Hattie put her head out at the door. "Good-morning, mother!" she +called cheerily. "Good-morning, dad! Good-morning,--Wallace." + +"Where did you spend last night?" asked Mrs. Balcome, rising. Anger +took the place of grief, for Hattie was wearing an adorable house frock +culled from her trousseau--a frock combined of rose voile and French +gingham. And such a selection on this particular morning---- + +Hattie sauntered to the sun-dial. "Last night?" She pointed to that +upper guest-room window. + +Her mother was shocked. "You don't mean to tell me that you slept +_here_!" + +"When the telephone wasn't ringing,"--whereat Ikey grinned. + +"You slept here _unchaperoned_?" + +"Oh, Sue was home." + +"Oh, what's the matter with you, Hattie? You're not like other girls!" + +"Well, have I been raised like other girls?" + +At this, Mrs. Balcome became fully roused. "You'll pack your things +and come right out of that house!" she cried. "Do you hear me?" + +"Yes, mother.--Ikey dear, find Mr. Farvel and tell him his breakfast is +ready." Then with a proprietary air, "And Miss Balcome says he must +eat it while it's hot." + +Wallace straightened, his face suddenly flushing. + +"Dear me, aren't we concerned about Mr. Farvel's breakfast!" exclaimed +Mrs. Balcome, mockingly. + +"We are." + +"But not a word for this poor boy. One would think you were going to +marry Farvel instead of Wallace." + +"But--am I going to marry Wallace?" + +Wallace swayed toward her. "Oh, you can't--you _can't_ turn me down!" + +"Ah, Wallace!" she said sadly. + +"Mrs. Balcome, _you_ don't think I deserve this?" + +"Now don't be hasty, Hattie," advised her mother. "Everything's ready. +Our friends are coming. Are you going to send them away?" + +"Messages have gone--to tell everyone not to come." + +"Oh!" Wallace turned away, his head sunk between his shoulders. + +"What will Buffalo think of you!" cried Mrs. Balcome. + +"Buffalo," answered Hattie, "will have a chance to chatter about me, +and that will give you and dad a rest." + +"Are you going to send back all those beautiful wedding presents?" + +Balcome, relieved of his worry over Hattie, had been strolling about, +pulling at a cigar. Now he greeted this last question with a roar of +laughter. "Oh, Hattie, can you beat it! Oh, that's a good one!" + +Mrs. Balcome fixed him with an angry eye. "Doesn't he show what he +is?" she inquired. "To laugh at such a time!" + +"Beautiful wedding presents!" went on Balcome. "Oh, ha! ha! ha!" + +"No sentiment!" added his wife. "No feeling!" + +Hattie appealed to Wallace. "Oh, haven't I had my share of +quarreling?" she asked plaintively. + +"But we wouldn't quarrel!" + +"Oh, yes, we would. I'd remember--and then trouble. I'd always feel +that you and----" + +"Hattie!" warned her mother. "You can't discuss that matter." + +"Why not?" + +"You ask that! Doesn't your good taste--your modesty--tell you that +it's not proper?" + +"Oh!--I mustn't discuss it. But if Wallace and I were to marry at +twelve o'clock today, we could discuss it at one o'clock--and quarrel!" + +"Mr. Balcome!" entreated Wallace. + +Balcome deposited his cigar ashes on the sun-dial. "My boy," he said, +"if a man has to dodge crockery because his wife's jealous about +nothing, what'll it be like if she's got the goods on him?" + +"There he goes!" triumphed Mrs. Balcome. "It's just what I expected!" +And to Hattie, who was admiring the Kewpie, "Put that down!" Then to +Wallace, "Oh, she gets more like her father every day! Now drop +that!"--for Hattie, having let fall the Kewpie, had picked up the +flaxen-haired doll. "Wallace, she never came to this decision alone!" + +"Alan Farvel!" accused Wallace, hotly. + +Hattie turned on him. "You--you dare to say that!" + +"Oh, I knew you'd stick up for him! You like him." + +"He's good! He's fine, and big! He's a man!--and a clean man." + +"_I_ meant Sue Milo." Mrs. Balcome interposed her bulk between them. + +"She's not to blame!" defended Hattie. "On the contrary--she wouldn't +let me decide quickly. We talked about it 'way into the night." + +Balcome twitched a rose voile sleeve. "Don't mind her, Hattie," he +counseled. "That's the kind of wild thing she says about me." + +"Can you deny that Susan has influenced you?" persisted Mrs. Balcome. +"Can you truthfully say--_Oh_!" For over the wall, and over the little +white door, had come a large, gay-striped rubber ball. It Struck the +grass, bounced, and came rolling to Mrs. Balcome's feet. + +"Here she is!" whispered Balcome. + +"_Sneaking_ in!" accused his wife. + +Now, the white door swung wide to the sound of motor chugging, and a +hop came trundling across the lawn. Next, Sue appeared, backing, for +her arms were full of bundles. She dropped one or two as she came. +"Oh, there you go again!" she laughed. "Oh, butter-fingers!" + +"Goo-oo-ood-morning!" began Mrs. Balcome, portentously. + +Sue turned a startled face over a shoulder. And at once she was only a +small girl caught in naughtiness. "Oh,--er--ah--good-morning," she +stammered. "I--er--I've got everything but the kitchen stove." She +made to a bench and let all her purchases fall. "Mrs. +Balcome,--how--how is mother?" + +"You care a lot about your poor mother!" retorted Mrs. Balcome. +"You'll send her gray hairs in sorrow to the grave!" + +Balcome winked at Sue. "Hebrews, ten, thirty-six," he reminded +roguishly. "'For ye have need of patience.'" + +"Well, dear lady, just what have I done?" Sue sank among the packages. + +"I say you're responsible for this--this unfortunate turn of affairs." + +"If you'd only let things alone yesterday," broke in Wallace; "if you'd +stayed at home, and minded your own affairs." + +"So you could have deceived Hattie." + +"No! You've no right to call it deception. That's one of your +new-woman ideas. This is something that happened long ago, before I +ever met Hattie--and it's sacred----" + +Hattie burst out laughing. "Sacred!" she cried. "Of course--an affair +with the wife of your host!" + +"Hattie!" warned Mrs. Balcome. + +But Hattie ignored her mother. "What a disgusting argument!" she went +on. "What a cowardly excuse!" + +Matters were taking a most undesirable turn. To change their course, +Mrs. Balcome swung round upon Sue. "Why did you send Dora for that +child?" + +"What has the poor child to do with it?" + +"Ah! You see, Wallace? It was all done purposely. So that Hattie +would decide against you. What does Susan Milo care that you'll be +mortified? That Hattie's life will be spoiled?" (Hattie smiled.) +"That I'll have to explain and lie?" + +"Ha! Ha!--Lie!" chuckled Balcome. + +"Don't you see that she's not thinking of you, Hattie? That you'll +have to pack up and go home?--Oh, it's dreadful! Dreadful!" + +"Yes," answered Hattie. "It would be dreadful--to have to go home." + +Mrs. Balcome did not seem to hear. She was waving a hand at the +bundles. "And what, may I ask, are all these?" + +"These?" + +"You heard me." + +"Well, this--for, oh, she must have the best welcome that we can give +her, the darling!--this----" + +"All cooked up for Mr. Farvel's benefit, I suppose," interjected Mrs. +Balcome. + +"Of course. Who cares anything about the child!" Sue laughed. + +"Oh, your mother has told me of your aspirations,"--this with scornful +significance. + +"Mm!--This is socks--oh, such cunning socks--with little turnover cuffs +on 'em!" Sue's good-humor was unshaken. "And this is sash ribbon. +And this is roller skates." She lifted one package after the other. +"And a game. And a white rabbit. And a woolly sheep--it winds up!" +She gave it to Hattie. "And a hat--with roses on it! And rompers--I +do hope she's not too big for rompers! These are blue, with a white +collar. And 'Don Quixote'--fine pictures--it'll keep. And look!"--it +was a train of cars. "Isn't it a darling? I could play with it +myself! Just observe that smokestack! And--well, she can give it to +her first beau. And, behold, a lizard! Its picture is on the box!" +She waved it. "Made in the U. S. A.!" + +Mrs. Balcome had been watching with an expression not so irritable as +it was wearied. "You are pathetic!" she said finally. "Simply +pathetic!" + +"Look!" invited Sue, holding up a duck. "It quacks!" + +But Mrs. Balcome had turned on Hattie, and caught the sheep from her +hand. "You!" she scolded; "--for the child of that--that----" + +Hattie held up a warning finger. "Don't criticize the lady before +Wallace," she cautioned. + +Slowly Wallace straightened, and came about. "Well," he said quietly, +"I guess that's the end of it." He went to Sue, holding out a hand. +"Sue, I'm going----" + +"Go to mother, Wallace. I'll see you later." + +"Hattie! Hattie!" importuned her mother. "Tell him not to go!" + +"No," said Hattie, firmly. "I was willing to do something wrong--and +all this has saved me from it. I've never cared for Wallace the right +way. He knows it. I was only marrying him to get away from home." + +"Hear that!" cried Mrs. Balcome. + +"No,--you don't love me," agreed Wallace. + +"I don't believe I've ever loved you," the girl went on; "only--believe +me!--I didn't know it till--till I came here." + +"I understand." Out of a pocket of his vest he took a ring--a narrow +chased band of gold. "Will--will you keep this?" he asked. "It was +for you." + +"Some other woman, Wallace, will make you happy." She made no move to +take the ring, only backed a step. + +Quickly Sue put out her hand. "Let me take it, dear brother. And try +not to feel too bad." She had on a long coat. She dropped the ring +into a pocket. + +"And, Sue, I want to tell you"--he spoke as if they were alone +together--"that I'm ashamed of what I said to you yesterday--that +you're quick to think wrong. You're not. And you were right. And +you're the best sister a man ever had." + +"Never mind," comforted Sue. "Never mind." + +He tried to smile. "This--this is chickens coming home to roost, isn't +it?" he asked; turned, fighting against tears, and with a smothered +farewell entered the house. + +Mrs. Balcome wiped her eyes. "Oh, poor Wallace! Poor boy!" she +mourned. And to Sue, "I hope you're satisfied! You started out +yesterday to stop this wedding--your own brother's wedding!--and you've +succeeded. I can't fathom your motives--except that some women, when +they fail to land husbands of their own, simply hate to see anybody +else have one. It's the envy of the--soured spinster." + +Sue was busily arranging the toys. "So I can't land a husband, eh?" +she laughed. + +"But your mother tells me that you're championing the unmarried +alliance," went on Mrs. Balcome. + +"You mean Laura Farvel, of course. Well, not exactly. You see, +neither mother nor I know anything against Mrs. Farvel except what Mrs. +Farvel has said herself. But one thing is certain: even an unmarried +alliance, as you call it, is more decent than a marriage without love." + +"Oh, slam!" Balcome exploded in pure joy. + +"How dare you!" cried Mrs. Balcome, dividing an angry look between her +husband and Sue. + +"And," Sue went on serenely, "when it comes to that, I respect an +unmarried woman with a child fully as much as I do a married woman with +a poodle." + +"Wow!" shouted Balcome. + +"I think," proceeded Mrs. Balcome, suddenly mindful of the existence of +her own poodle, and looking calmly about for Babette, "I think that you +have softening of the brain." + +"Well,"--Sue was tinkering with the smoke-stack--"I'd rather have +softening of the brain than hardening of the heart." + +"Isn't she funny?" demanded Balcome, to draw his wife's fire. "She +doesn't dare to stand up for Wallace you'll notice, Sue,--though she'd +like to. But she can't because she's raved against that kind of thing +for years. So she has to abuse somebody else." + +"There's a man for you!" cried his better half. "To stand by and hear +his own wife insulted!--the mother of his child--and join in it! How +infamous! How base!" + +Satisfied with results, Balcome consulted his watch. "Well, I'm a busy +man," he observed, and kissed Hattie. + +"Where is your father going?" demanded Mrs. Balcome. + +"Where is father going?" telephoned Sue, taking off hat and coat. + +"Buffalo." + +Mrs. Balcome threw up the hand that was not engaged with the dog. "Oh, +what shall we say to Buffalo!" she said tragically. "Oh, how can I +ever go back!" + +"Mr. Balcome, do you want to settle on some explanation?" + +"Advise Hattie's mother"--Balcome shook a warning finger--"that for a +change she'd better tell the truth." + +"Oh!"--the shot told. "As if I don't always tell it--always!" Then to +Sue, "Suppose we say that the bridegroom is sick?" + +Inarticulate with mirth, Balcome gave Sue a parting pat on the shoulder +and started away. + +"But, John!" + +Astounded at being thus directly addressed, and before he could bethink +himself not to seem to have heard, Balcome brought short, silently +appealing to Sue for her opinion of this extraordinary state of affairs. + +For Sue knew. There was only one thing that could have so moved Mrs. +Balcome. "Lady dear," she inquired pleasantly, "how much money do you +want?" + +"Oh, four hundred will do." And as Balcome dove into a capacious +pocket and brought forth a roll, which Sue handed to her, "One hundred, +two hundred,--three--four----" She counted in a careful, inquiring +tone which implied that Balcome might have failed to hand over the sum +she suggested. "And now, Hattie, get your things together. We want to +be gone by the time that child comes." + +"Oh, mother," returned Hattie, crossly, "you're beginning to treat me +exactly as Mrs. Milo treats Sue." + +No argument followed. For at this moment a door banged somewhere in +the Rectory, then came the sound of running feet; and Mrs. Milo's +voice, shrill with anger, called from the drawing-room: + +"Susan!" + +"Mother?" said Sue. + +Hattie and her father gravitated toward each other in mutual sympathy. +Then joined forces in a defensive stand behind Sue. + +"Now, you'll catch it, Miss Susan!" promised Mrs. Balcome. "Here's +someone who'll know how to attend to you!" + +"My dear friend," answered Sue, "since early yesterday afternoon, +here's a person that's been calling her soul her own." + +"Susan!"--the cry was nearer, and sharp. + +With elaborate calmness, Sue took up the Kewpie, seated herself, and +prepared to look as independent and indifferent as possible. + +"Susan!--Oh, help!" + +It brought Sue to her feet. There was terror in the cry, and wild +appeal. + +The next moment, white-faced, and walking unsteadily, Mrs. Milo came +from the drawing-room. "Oh, help me!" she begged. "I didn't tell her +anything! I didn't! I didn't! How could she find us! That terrible +woman!" She made weakly to the stone bench that was nearest, and +sat--as Tottie followed her into sight and halted in the doorway, +leaning carelessly. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Miss Mignon St. Clair was a lady of resource. Given a telephone +number, and a glimpse of a gentleman who was without doubt of the +cloth, and she had only to open the Classified Telephone Directory at +"Churches," run down the list until she came to the number Mrs. Milo +had given her, and the thing was done. She disregarded Ikey's repeated +"I don't knows" over the wire, donned an afternoon dress for her +morning's work (Tottie was ever beforehand with the clock in the matter +of apparel), and set forth for the Rectory, arriving--by very good +fortune--as Mrs. Milo herself was alighting out of a taxicab. + +Now she grinned impudently at the group in a the Close. "How-dy-do, +people!" she hailed. "--Well, nobody seems to know me today! I'll +introduce myself--Miss Mignon St. Clair." She bowed. Then to the +figure crouched on the bench, "Say, how about it, Lady Milo?" + +"Oh, you must go!" cried Mrs. Milo, rising. "You must! I'll see +you--I promise--but go!" + +Tottie came out. "Oh, wa-a-ait a minute! Why, you ain't half as +hospitable as I am. I entertained the bunch of you yesterday, and let +you raise the old Ned." She sauntered aside to take a look at the dial. + +"Oh! Oh!" Mrs. Milo dropped back to the bench, shutting out the sight +of her visitor with both trembling hands. + +Sue went to stand across the dial from Tottie. "What can we do for +you?" she asked pleasantly. + +Tottie addressed Mrs. Milo. "Your daughter's a lady," she declared +emphatically. And to Sue, "Nothin' 's been said about squarin' with +me." + +"Squaring?" + +"Damages." + +"Damages?"--more puzzled than ever. + +But Balcome understood. He advanced upon Tottie, shaking a fist. "You +mean blackmail!" + +"Now go slow on that!" counseled Tottie, dangerously. "I aim to keep a +respectable house." + +"And I'm sure you do," returned Sue, mollifyingly. + +It warmed Tottie into a confidence. "Dearie," she began, "I room the +swellest people in the whole perfession. That's why I'm so mad. Here +I took in that Clare Crosby. And what did she do to me?--'Aunt Clare!' +Think of _me_ swallerin' such stuff! Well, you bet I'm goin' to let +Felix Hull know all there is to know, and--the kid is big enough to +understand." + +Now Sue put out a quick hand. "Ah, but you haven't the heart to hurt a +child!" + +"Haven't I! You just wait till I have my talk with her 'Aunt Clare'!" + +"We haven't been able to locate her." + +Tottie's face fell. "No? Then I know a way to git even, and to git my +pay. There's the newspapers--y' think they won't grab at this?" She +jerked her red head toward the wedding-bell. "Just a 'phone, 'Long +lost wife is found, or how a singer broke up a weddin'.'" + +"Oh, no!" Hattie raised a frightened face to that upper window of the +study. + +"By Heaven!" stormed Balcome, stamping the grass. + +"Now, I know you're joking!" declared Sue. "Yes, you are!" + +"Yes, I _ain't_!" + +"Ah, you can't fool me! No, indeed! You wouldn't think of doing such +a thing--a woman who stands so high in her profession!" + +Tottie's eyelids fluttered, as if at a light too brilliant to endure; +and she caught her breath like one who has drunk an over-generous +draught. "Aw--er--um." Her hand went up to her throat. She +swallowed. Then recovering herself, "Dearie, you're not only a lady, +but you're discernin'--that's the word!--discernin'." She laid a hand +appreciatively on Sue's arm. + +Sue patted the hand. "Ha-ha!" she laughed. "I could see that you were +acting! The very first minute you came through that door--'That woman +is an artist'--that's what I said to myself--'a great artist---in her +line.' For you can _act_. Oh, Miss St. Clair, _how_ you can act!" + +Tottie seemed to grow under the praise, to lengthen and to expand. +"Well, I do flatter myself that I have talent," she conceded. "I've +played with the best of 'em. And as I say,----" + +"Exactly," agreed Sue. "Now, what _I_ was about to remark was this: +We're thinking very seriously of traveling--several of us--yes. And +before we go, I feel that I'd like you to have a small token of my +appreciation of what you've done for--for Miss Crosby--a small token to +an artist----" + +"Dearie," interrupted Tottie, "I couldn't think of it." + +"Oh, just a little something--for being so kind to her." + +"Not a cent. Y' know, I've got a steady income--yes, alimony. I'm +independent. And it's so seldom that us artists _git_ appreciated. +No; as I say, not a cent.--And now, I'll make my exit. It's been a +real pleasure to see you again." She backed impressively. + +"The pleasure's all mine," declared Sue. "Good-by!" + +"O-revour!" returned Tottie, elegantly. She bowed, swept round, and +was gone. + +Mrs. Milo uncovered her face. + +Balcome chuckled. "My dear Sue," he said, "when it comes to diplomacy, +our United States ambassador boys have nothing on you!" + +"Oh, don't give me too much credit," Sue answered. "You know, people +are never as bad as they pretend to be. Now even you and Mrs. +Balcome--why, I've come to the conclusion that you two enjoy a good +row!" + +"Ah, that reminds me!" declared Balcome. "You spoke just now of +traveling. And I think there's a devil of a lot in that travel idea." + +"Brother Balcome!" exclaimed Mrs. Milo, finding relief from +embarrassment in being shocked. + +"Don't call me Brother!" he cried. "--Sue, ask Mrs. B. if she wouldn't +like to get away to Europe.--And you could go with her, couldn't you?" +This to Mrs. Milo, before whose eyes he held up a check-book. "What +would you say to five thousand dollars?" + +The sight of that check-book was like a tonic. Mrs. Milo smiled--and +rose, setting her bonnet straight, and picking at the skirt of her +dress. + +"What do you think, Sue?" asked Balcome. + +Sue considered. "They could go a long way on five thousand," she +returned mischievously. + +"And I need a change," put in her mother; "--after twenty years of--of +widowed responsibility." + +Balcome waxed enthusiastic. "I tell you, it's a great idea! You two +ladies----" + +"Leisurely taking in the sights," supplemented Sue. + +"That's the ticket!" He opened the check-book. "First, England." + +"Then France." Sue was the picture of demureness. + +"Then the trenches!" Balcome winked. + +"Italy is lovely," continued Sue, wickedly. + +"Egypt--for the winter!" Balcome's excitement mounted as he saw his +wife farther away. + +"And there's the Holy Land." + +This last was a happy suggestion. For Mrs. Milo turned to Mrs. +Balcome, clasping eager hands. "Ah, the Holy Land!" she cried. +"Palestine! The Garden of Eden!" + +Mrs. Balcome listened calmly. But she did not commit herself. At some +thought or other, she pressed Babette close. + +"Yes!" Balcome took Mrs. Milo's elbow confidentially. "And think of +Arabia!" + +"India!"--it was Sue again. + +"China!" added Balcome. + +"Japan!" + +"The Phil----" + +"Look out now! Look out!" + +"What's the matter?" + +"Matter? You're coming up the other side!" + +But Mrs. Milo was blissfully unaware of this bit of byplay. "Do you +think Mrs. Balcome and I could make such an extended trip on five +thousand?" she asked. + +"Well, I'll raise the ante!--_ten_ thousand." Balcome took out a +fountain-pen. + +"Oh, think of it!" raved Mrs. Milo, ecstatically. "The dream of my +life!--Europe! Africa! Asia!--Dear Mrs. Balcome, what do you say?" + +"We-e-e-ell," answered Mrs. Balcome, slowly, "can I take Babette?" + +In his eagerness, Balcome addressed her direct. "Yes! Yes! I'll buy +Babette a dog satchel!" + +"I'll go," declared Mrs. Balcome. + +Mrs. Milo was all gratitude. "Oh, my dear, thank you! And we'll get +ready today!--Why not? I certainly shan't stay here"--this with a +glance at the toy-strewn bench. "Susan,--you must pack." + +Sue stared. "Oh,--do--do I go?" + +"Would you send me, at my age----" + +"No! No!"--hastily. + +"And you don't mean to tell me that you'd like to stay behind!" There +was a touch of the old jealousy. + +"I didn't know you wanted me to go, mother." + +"Most assuredly you go." She had evidently forgotten completely her +threat of the afternoon before. Sue had disobeyed. Yet her +disobedience was not to result in a parting. "And that reminds +_me_"--turning to Balcome, who was scratching away with his pen. "If +_Sue_ goes----" + +Balcome understood. He began to write a new check. "I'll make this +twelve thousand." + +Mrs. Balcome saw an opportunity. "Hattie, do you want to go?" she +asked. She looked about the Close. "Hattie!" + +But Hattie was gone. + +Mrs. Milo bustled to Balcome to take the check. "I'll get the +reservations at once," she declared. And as the slip of paper was put +into her hand, "Oh, Brother Balcome!" + +"_Sister_ Milo!" Balcome, beaming, crushed her fingers gratefully in +his big fist. + +She bustled out, taking Mrs. Balcome with her. + +Balcome kept Sue back. "Of course, I know that you won't get one +nickel of that money," he declared. "So I'm going to give you a little +bunch for yourself." + +"But, dear sir,----" + +"Not a word now! Don't I know what you've done for me? Why,"--shaking +with laughter--"Mrs. B. will have to stay in England six months." + +"Six?" + +"Sh!"--he leaned to whisper--"Babette! Six months is the British +quarantine for dogs!" He caught her hand, and they laughed +immoderately. + +Her hand free again, she found a slip of paper in it. "Five thousand! +Oh, no! I can't take it!" + +"Yes, you will! Take it now instead of letting me will it to you. For +I'm going to die of joy! You see, my dear girl, you're not going to be +earning while you travel. And you can use it. And you've given me +value received. You've done me a whale of a turn! Please let me do +this much." + +"I'll take it if you'll let me use some of it for--for----" + +"You mean that youngster?" + +"Would you mind if I helped the mother?" + +"Say, there's no string tied to that check. Use it as you like. But I +want to ask you, Sue,--just curiosity--why were you so all-fired nice +to that Crosby girl?" + +"I'll tell you. But you'll never peep?" + +"Cross my heart to die!" + +"She's been so brave, and I'm a coward." + +"That you're not, by Jingo!" + +"Let me explain. She couldn't stand conditions that weren't suited to +her. At nineteen, she rebelled. I'm not going to say that she didn't +also do wrong. But she was so young. While I--I have gone on and on, +knowing in my secret heart----" She choked, and could not finish. + +"I understand, Sue. It's a blamed shame! And you can't stop now----" + +"I shall go with mother." + +"Well, if you find that young woman you give her as much of that five +thousand as you want to. And if you need more----" + +"Oh, you dear, old, fat thing!" + +He put his arm about her. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. + +"There! There! You're a good girl." + +"You're a man in a million! How can any woman find you hard to live +with!" + +"Momsey!" Ikey was standing beside them. His hair was disheveled, his +face white. + +"Ikey boy!" The sight of him made her anxious. + +"You--you go avay?" + +"We-e-ell,----" + +"A-a-a-ah!" She was trying to break it gently. But he understood. +Two small begrimed hands went up to hide his face. + +She drew him to her. "But I'll come back, dear! I'll come back! Oh, +don't! Don't!" + +He clung to her wildly then. "Oh, how can I lif midoudt you! Oh, +Momsey! Momsey! I nefer sing again!" + +She led him to a bench. "Now listen!" she begged gently. "Listen! +It's only for a little while." + +He lifted his face. "Yes?" + +"Yes, dear." + +That comforted. "Und also," he observed philosophically, "de olt lady, +she goes mit." + +"Ikey!" Sue sat back, displeased. + +"Oh, scuses! Scuses!" + +"She's my mother." + +"You--you _sure_?" + +"Why, Ikey!" she cried, astonished. + +"Alvays I--I like to t'ink de oder t'ing." + +"What other thing?" + +"Dat you vas found in de basket." + +Balcome laughed, and Sue laughed with him. Even Ikey, guessing that he +had inadvertently been more than usually witty, allowed a smile to come +into those wet eyes. + +"There!" cried Sue, putting both arms about him. "Momsey forgives." + +"T'ank you. Und now I like to question--you don't go avay mit de +preacher?" + +"No! No!" Sue blushed like a girl. + +"Den you don't marry mit him." + +"N-n-n-n-no!" + +"You feel better, don't you, old man?" inquired Balcome. + +"Yes.--If I vas growed up, I vould marry mit her myself." + +"Now little flattering chorister," said Sue, "there's something Momsey +wants you to do. She'll have to leave here very soon. And before she +goes she wants to hear that splendid voice again. So you go to the +choirmaster, and ask him if he'll get all the boys together for Miss +Susan, and have them sing something--something full of happiness, and +hope." + +"Momsey, can it be 'O Mutter Dear, Jerusalem?'" + +"Do you like that best?" + +"I like it awful much! De first part, she has Mutter in it; und--und +also Jerusalem." + +Sue kissed him. "And the second verse Momsey likes---- + + _'O happy harbor of God's Saints! + O sweet and pleasant soil! + In Thee no sorrow can be found, + Nor grief, nor care, nor toil!'_" + + +"It's grand!" sighed Ikey. + +"You ask the choirmaster if you may sing it. And if he lets you----" + +"Goot!" He started away bravely enough. But the Church door reached, +he turned and came slowly back. "Momsey," he faltered, "I don't +remember my mutter. Vould you, now, mind if--just vonce before you +go--if I called _you_--mutter?" + +She put out her arms to him. "Oh, my son! My son!" + +With a cry, he flung himself into her embrace, weeping. "Oh, mutter! +Mutter! Mutter!" + +"Remember that mother loves you." + +"Oh, my mutter," he answered, "Gott take fine care of you!" + +"And God take care of my boy." + +He sobbed, and she held him close, brushing at the tousled head. While +Balcome paced to and fro on the lawn, and coughed suspiciously, and +blinked at the sun. "Say, I've got an idea," he announced. "Listen, +young man! Come here." + +Gently Sue unclasped the hands that clung about her neck, and turned +the tear-stained face to Balcome. + +"Up in Buffalo, in my business, I need a boy who knows how to keep his +mouth shut. Now when do you escape from this--this asylum?" He swept +his hat in a wide circle that included the Rectory. + +Pride made Ikey forget his woe. "Oh," he boasted, "I can go venefer I +like. You see, my aunt, she only borrows me here." + +"Ah! And what do you think of my proposition?" + +Ikey meditated. "Vell, I ain't crazy to stay here mit Momsey gone." + +Balcome put a hand on his shoulder. "I thought you wouldn't. So +suppose we talk this over--eh?--man to man--while we hunt the +choirmaster?" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +When they were gone, Sue looked down at the check in her hand. +Yesterday, in the heat of a just resentment, she had boasted a new +freedom. What had come of it was twelve hours without the presence of +her mother--twelve hours shared with Hattie and Farvel. + +They had been happy hours, for strangely enough Hattie had needed +little cheering. It was Farvel who easily accomplished wonders with +her. Sue did not know what passed between the clergyman and the +bride-who-was-not-to-be during a long conference in the library. She +had heard only the low murmur of their voices. And once she had heard +Hattie laugh. When the two finally emerged, it was plain that Hattie +had been weeping, and Farvel was noticeably kind to her, even tender. +At dinner he was unwontedly cheerful, relieved at the whole solving of +the old, sad mystery, though worried not a little by Clare's +disappearance. After dinner he had taken himself out and away in a +futile search that had lasted the whole night. + +But happy as Sue had been since parting with her mother at Tottie's, +nevertheless she felt strangely shaken, as if, somehow, she had been +swept from her bearings. She attributed this to the fact that never +before had she and her mother spent a night under different roofs. +Until Sue's twenty-fourth birthday, there had been the daily partings +that come with a girl's school duties. (Sue had continued through a +business college after leaving high school.) But beyond the short trip +to school and back, Mrs. Milo did not permit her daughter to go +anywhere alone, urging Sue's youth as her excuse. + +They shopped together; they sat side by side in the Milo pew at St. +Giles; and after Sue's sixteenth birthday, though Wallace might have to +be left at home with his father, Mrs. Milo did not permit her daughter +to accept invitations, even to the home of a girl friend, unless she +herself was included. It was said--and in praise of Mrs. Milo--that +here was one woman who took "good care of her girl." + +When Horatio Milo died (an expert accountant, he had no resistance with +which to combat a sudden illness that was aggravated by a wound +received in the Civil War), Mrs. Milo clung more closely than ever--if +that was possible--to Sue. To the daughter, this was explained by her +mother's pathetic grief; and by her dependence. For Sue was now, all +at once, the breadwinner of the little family. + +At this juncture, Mrs. Milo pleaded hard in behalf of an arrangement +for earning that would not take her daughter from her even through a +short business day. Sue met her mother's wishes by setting up an +office in the living-room of their small apartment. Here she took some +dictation--her mother seated close by, busy with her sewing, but not +too busy to be graciousness itself to those men and women who desired +Sue's services. There was copying to be done, too. The girl became a +sort of general secretary, her clients including an author, a college +professor, and a clergyman. + +Thus for six years. Then, at thirty years of age, she went to fill the +position at the Rectory. Her father had been a vestryman of the +Church, and she had been christened there--as a small, freckle-faced +girl in pigtails, fresh from a little village in northern New York. + +And now, at this day that was so late, Sue knew that between her and +her mother things could never again be as they had been. Their +differences lay deep: and could not be adjusted. Mrs. Milo had always +demanded from her daughter the unquestioning obedience of a child; she +would not--and could not--alter her attitude after so many years. + +But there was a reason for their parting that was more powerful than +any other: down from its high pedestal had come the image of Mrs. Milo +that her daughter had so long, and almost blindly, cherished. All at +once, as if indeed her eyes had been suddenly and miraculously opened, +Sue understood all the hypocrisy of her mother's gentleness, the +affection that was only simulated, the smiles that were only muscle +deep. + +How it had all happened, Sue as yet scarcely knew. But in effect it +had been like an avalanche--an avalanche that is built up, flake by +flake, over a long period, and then gives way through even so light a +touch as the springing to flight of a mountain bird. The Milo +avalanche--it was made up of countless small tyrannies and scarcely +noticeable acts of selfishness adroitly disguised. But touched into +motion by Mrs. Milo's frank cruelty, it had swept upon the two women, +destroying all the falsities that had hitherto made any thought of +separation impossible. As Sue fingered the check, she realized that +her life and her mother's had been changed. It was likely that they +might go on living together. Though they were two women who belonged +apart. + +"Why, Miss Susan,"--Farvel had come across the lawn to her +noiselessly--"what's this I hear? That you're going away." + +She rose, a little flurried. "I--I suppose I must." + +"And you've bought all these for--for the child," he added, catching +sight of the dolls and toys. + +"It'll be nice to give them to her. But I'd hoped I could be near +Barbara for a long time to come. I hoped I could help to make up to +the little one for--for anything she's lacked." She shook her head. +"But you see, my mother depends on me so. She wouldn't go without me. +She's too old to go just with Mrs. Balcome. And--and if it's my +duty----" At her feet was that box which Mrs. Balcome had thrown down +on hearing that it contained something which should be put upon ice. +Sue picked the box up and began to undo the string. + +Farvel stood in silence for a little. Then, finally, "I--I want to +tell you something before you go. I'm afraid it will surprise you. +And--and"--coloring bashfully--"I hardly know how to begin." + +"Ye-e-es?" Sue was embarrassed, too, and hid her confusion by taking +from the box a bride's bouquet that was destined not to figure in any +marriage ceremony. At sight of the flowers, her embarrassment grew. + +Farvel began to speak very low.--"After Laura left, I didn't think of a +second marriage--not even when her brother had the divorce registered. +I felt I couldn't settle down again and be happy when I didn't know her +fate. She might be alive, you see. And I am an Episcopal clergyman. +Still--I wasn't contented. I had my dreams--of a home, and a wife----" +He paused. + +"A wife who would really care," she said. + +"Yes. And a woman _I_ could love. Because, I know I'm to blame for +Laura's going--oh, yes, to a very great extent. I didn't love her +enough. If I had, she never would have left--never would have done +anything to hurt me. If I were to marry again, it would have to be +someone I cared for a great deal. That's what I--I want to plead now +when I tell you--when I confess. I want to plead that this new love I +feel is so great--almost beyond my--my power, Miss Susan." + +She did not look at him. The bouquet in her hand trembled. + +He went on. "I oughtn't to find it hard to tell you anything. I've +always felt that there was such sympathy between us. As if you +understand me; and I would never fail to understand you." + +"I have felt it, too." + +Now she lifted her eyes--but to the windows of the drawing-room. From +the nearest, a face was quickly withdrawn--her mother's. She stepped +back, widening the distance between herself and Farvel. + +"Susan!" It was Mrs. Milo, calling as if from a distance. + +Instantly, Farvel also fell back. And scarcely knowing why she did it, +Sue put the bride's bouquet behind her. + +Mrs. Milo came out. Her eyes had a peculiar glitter, but her voice was +gentle enough. "Susan dear, why do you go flying away just when you're +wanted? Why don't you come and help your poor motherkins as you +promised? You don't want me to do everything?" + +"No, mother." + +"Then please go at once and help Mrs. Balcome with the packing. My +things go into the two small wardrobe trunks. You'll have to use that +big trunk that was your dear father's. Now hurry!" + +"Yes, mother." Sue attempted a detour, the bouquet still out of her +mother's sight. + +"What are you trying to conceal, dear?" + +"It's--it's Hattie's bouquet." + +A look of mingled fear and resentment--a look that Sue understood; +next, breathing hard, "What are you doing with it? You don't want it! +Give it to me!" Mrs. Milo caught the flowers from her daughter's hands +and threw them upon the grass. "Now go and do what I've asked you to!" +She pointed. + +Sue glanced at Farvel, who was staring at the elder woman in amazed +displeasure. "I'll be back," she said significantly. There was a +trace of yesterday's rebellion in her manner as she went out. + +As the drawing-room door closed, Mrs. Milo's manner also underwent a +change. She hastened to Farvel, her eyes brimming with tears, her lips +trembling. "Oh, Mr. Farvel," she cried, "she's all I've got in this +world. She's the very staff of my life! And my heart is set on her +going abroad with me! It'll be an expensive trip, but I'm an old +woman, Mr. Farvel, and I can't take that long journey without Sue! I +know you're against me for what I did yesterday--for what I said to +your wife. But I felt she'd separate me from Sue--that she'd put Sue +against me. And, oh, don't punish me for it! Don't take my daughter +away from me! Oh, don't! Don't!" She caught at his hand, broke down +completely, and sobbed. + +"Why, Mrs. Milo!" exclaimed Farvel, not understanding. "What do you +mean?--take her away?" + +"I mean marry her!--Oh, she's my main hold on life!" + +He laughed. "My dear, dear lady, I haven't the least intention in the +world of asking your daughter to marry me." + +"No?" She stopped her weeping. + +"None whatever. How can I marry--while Laura is alive?" + +"And--and"--doubtfully--"you don't even--love her?" + +"Will it make your mind entirely easy if I tell you that I--I care for +someone else?" He blushed like a boy. + +"Oh, Alan Farvel, I'm so glad! So glad!" Her gratitude was +spontaneous. "And I wish you could marry! You deserve the very best +kind of a wife!" + +"You flatter me." + +"Not at all! You're a good man. You'd make some girl very happy. +I've always said, 'What a pity Mr. Farvel isn't a married man'--not +knowing, of course, that you'd ever been one.--Could I trouble you to +hand me that bouquet?" + +"Certainly." Farvel picked up the bride's bouquet from where she had +thrown it and gave it to her. + +"Thank you. A moment ago, I found the perfume of it quite +overpowering. But the blossoms are lovely, aren't they?--So you do +care for someone? And"--she smiled in her best playfully teasing +manner--"is the 'someone' a secret?" + +"Well,----" + +"Ah, you don't want to tell me! I'm an old lady, Mr. Farvel; I know +how to keep a secret." + +"Oh, I'm going to tell you. Though you're going to think very badly of +me." + +"Badly? For being in love?--You will have to wait." + +"For being in love with a certain young lady." + +"Ho-ho! That's very unlikely. Now, who is it? I'm all eagerness!" +She smiled at him archly. + +He waited a moment; then, "I love Hattie Balcome." + +"_Hattie?_" She found it impossible of comprehension. + +"Hattie." + +"Well,--that is--news." + +He bowed, a little surprised. He had expected anger and vituperation. + +"Of course, my son---- But as that can't be. And Sue--does Sue know?" + +"I was just about to tell her." + +She turned, calling: "Susan! Susan! _Su_san!" + +There was a rustle at the door--a smothered laugh. Sue appeared. "Who +calls the Queen of Lower Egypt?" she hailed airily, striking an +attitude. She had changed her dress. This was the "other one" given +her by Balcome--a confection all silver and chiffon. And this was Sue +at her youngest. + +"Oh, my dear," cried her mother, "it's lovely!" + +Startled by the unexpected admiration, Sue relaxed the pictorial +attitude. "You--you really like it, mother?" + +"I think it's _adorable_!" vowed Mrs. Milo. "A perfect _dream_!--Don't +you think so, Mr. Farvel?" + +He smiled. "I've never seen Miss Susan look more charming," he +declared. + +His compliment heightened the color in Sue's cheeks. "I--I just +happened across it," she explained, "so I thought I'd try it on." + +Mrs. Milo prepared to go. "By the way, Susan," she said. "I've +changed my mind about Europe." + +"You're not going?" Sue looked pleased. + +"Oh, yes, I'm going. But--I've decided not to take you." + +"Oh." Sue looked down, that her mother and Farvel might not guess at +her relief and her happiness. + +Her mother went on: "It's quite true what you said yesterday. You +_have_ been tied to me too closely. We need a change from each other." +She spoke with great gentleness. Smiling at Sue, the elder woman noted +how cruelly the bright sunlight of the Close brought out all the lines +in her daughter's face, emphasized the aging of the throat and the +graying of the hair. + +"Besides," continued the silvery voice, "it would be a very expensive +trip--with four in the party." + +"Four?" + +"Poor dear Wallace, I'm going to take him with me. His happiness is +ruined, and where would he go without me? Not to Peru--alone. I +couldn't permit that. He is absolutely broken-hearted. I must try to +heal his wound.--Oh, I'm not criticizing the way Hattie has treated +him. But his mother must not be the one to fail him now,--the darling!" + +"I want you to make any arrangement, any decision, that will mean +comfort and happiness to you and Wallace," said Sue. And felt all at +once a sudden, new, sweet sense of freedom. + +"And I feel that Mrs. Balcome and I will need a man along," added Mrs. +Milo. "If you were to go also----" + +"I am just as satisfied not to." + +"--It would take more money than we shall have. And as Hattie's mother +is going, doubtless Hattie will be glad enough to have you here to +chaperone her." + +"Yes." + +"But then do anything you like. You'll remember that yesterday you +twitted me about having to be waited on. I'll prove to you, my dear, +that I can get on without you." + +"Yes," said Sue, again. "And for what it would cost to take me, you +can hire the best of attention." + +"That's true, though I hadn't thought of it. But for a woman of my +years, I'm very active. I need no attention, really.--Just see, will +you, if there isn't a hook loose here on this shoulder? Mrs. Balcome +was downstairs when I dressed." + +Sue looked. "It's all right, mother dear." + +"And this bonnet"--she gave it a petulant twitch--"you know it's +heavier on one side than the other. I told you that when you were +making it." + +"I'm sorry, mother." Sue adjusted the bonnet with deft hands. + +"And now I have a thousand things to do!" It was like a dismissal of +Sue. Two things had come between them: on Sue's part, it was the +sudden knowledge of her mother's character--of its depths and its +shallows; while on the part of the elder woman, it was injured pride, +and never-to-be-forgotten mortification. + +Mrs. Milo floated away to the door. "And Mr. Farvel has a great secret +to tell you," she chirped as she went; "--a wonderful secret." She +turned to blink both eyes at the clergyman roguishly. "He's going to +confess to you." Then she held out the bride's bouquet, and with such +a peremptory gesture that Sue came to take it from her. Next she shook +a finger at Farvel. "Now out with it, Alan!" she commanded. + +"Alan!" gasped Sue, under her breath. She gave her mother a tiny push. +"Yes, go, mother! Hurry! You're wanted at the telephone!" + +"I'm wanted at the steamship office," answered Mrs. Milo. "Oh, think +of it!--Egypt! The Holy Land! The Garden of Eden!" + +Left alone, both Farvel and Sue found the moment embarrassing. She +went back to the sun-dial, picking at the flowers of the bouquet. He +stood apart, hands rammed in pockets. + +Presently, "Well, I--I don't have to go to Europe." She smiled at him +shyly. + +"No. That's--that's good." + +"And--and when I went out you--you were saying----" + +It helped him. "I was trying to--to make a clean breast of something," +he began, faltering. "But--but--oh, she can tell you best." He looked +up at the window of his study. "Hattie!" he called. "Hattie!" + +"Yes, Alan!" A rose fell upon the grass; then Hattie looked down at +them, radiant and laughing, her fair hair blowing about her face. + +"Come here, little woman." + +"All right." The fair head disappeared. + +"Hattie!" Sue was like one in a dream. + +"You're--you're shocked. But wait----" + +"No--no. That is,--not the way you mean." Then as the truth came to +her, she went unsteadily to a bench, sat, and leaned her head on a +hand. Now she understood why her mother was willing to leave her +behind! + +Hattie came tearing across the grass to her. "Oh, Sue! Oh, you're +crying! Oh, _dear_ Sue, you're crying!" She knelt, her arms about the +elder woman. + +"Of _course_ I'm crying," answered Sue. "That's what I always do when +I--I see that someone is happy." + +"Oh, Sue! Sue!" The girl clung to her. "Don't think too badly of me. +It came out last night--when Alan and I were talking. I told him I +didn't love Wallace the way I should--oh, Sue, _you_ know I never +have--and that it was because I loved someone else. And, oh, he grew +so--so white--he was so hurt--and I told him--I had to. It just poured +out of my soul, Sue. It had been kept in so long." + +"You darling girl!" They clung to each other, murmuring. + +"Now you know why I was so--so broken up yesterday," explained Farvel. +"It wasn't--Laura. It was Hattie." + +"Oh, we've cared for each other from the first!" confessed Hattie. +"And we've settled how it is all going to be. I'll stay in New York, +where we can be near each other, and see each other now and then--oh, +we shall be only friends, Sue. But I'd rather have his friendship than +the love of any other man I've ever known. And we'll be patient. And +if we can't ever be more than friends, we'll be glad just for that. +See how happy you've been, Sue, with no one--all these years. And here +I shall have Alan." + +"Ah, my dear girl!" exclaimed Sue. She stroked the bright hair. "Ah, +my dear girl!" + +"Oh, Sue, you mean you haven't been happy? Why don't you marry?" + +Sue laughed. "_I_? What an idea! Why, I don't think I've ever even +had the thought. Anyhow, the years have gone--the inclination is gone, +if it ever was there. I'm too old." Then with sudden and passionate +earnestness, "But you two." She rose and took each by a hand, and led +them to the dial. "Read! Read what is written in the stone!--_Tempus +Fugit_--time flies! Oh, take your happiness while you can! Don't +wait. Oh, don't!--We must find a way somehow. The Church--we must see +the proper authorities--oh, it isn't right that you two should be +punished----" + +"Momsey!" Peter, the pale, was calling from the drawing-room door. +"There's a gentleman----" + +A man appeared behind the boy, and pushed past into the Close--a young +man, unshaven and haggard, with bloodshot eyes. + +"Is there something I can do for you?" asked Farvel, quickly. He +hastened toward the visitor, who looked as if he had suddenly gone mad. + +"Hull is my name," announced the man; "--Felix Hull." + +"Oh, yes," said Sue, eagerly. She signed to Hattie to go, and the girl +hastened away through the door under the wedding-bell. + +"You have news?" questioned Farvel. + +Hull crossed the lawn to the dial. He walked slowly, like an old man. +And his shoulders were bent. His derby hat was off, and he clutched it +in two shaking hands. + +"Tell us," bade Sue. "It's--bad news?" + +"Yes." + +"Take your time," she added kindly. + +"Yesterday--just before you saw her--I was there. She was--well, you +know. She begged me to go--and keep away from the house. That made me +suspicious. I told her I wouldn't come back. Well, I didn't. Because +I never left. I knew she wasn't telling me the truth--I beg your +pardon, sir.--So I hung around. I saw you all go in. After a little, +I saw her come out--on the run. I followed. She went about twenty +blocks----" + +"Where?" + +"You're Miss Milo, aren't you?" + +"Susan Milo." + +"She spoke of you--oh, so--so loving. Well, it was a girl's +club--called the Gramercy. I knew it well because we'd met there many +a time. I went in. There was a new maid on hand, but I saw Clare. +She came right away, like as if she was more than glad to have a talk. +I didn't expect that, so I'd brought along a canary--to make her think +it was hers--the one she'd left behind, you see,--so she couldn't just +refuse to see me. Well, we talked. There wasn't any quarreling. She +wasn't a bit broke up--that surprised me. And it threw me clean off my +guard. She was highty-tighty, as you might say, and I'll admit it +hurt. We shook hands though, when I went, but she didn't ask me to +stay to tea." He turned to Farvel. "One thing she said about the +child she wanted you to know." + +"What?" + +"It's not your daughter, sir." + +"Ah." + +"And I hear from the St. Clair woman that the little one isn't as old +as Clare said. So----" + +"I understand." + +"Well, this morning, when I woke up--I didn't sleep much to speak of +last night--I got to thinking about--her. And I made up my mind that +I'd go look her up, and--and be a friend to her anyhow." His voice +broke. "I was fond of her, Miss Milo." + +"She was gone?" + +He nodded. "She'd been gone since the night before. Went out, the +maid said, with no hat on and a letter in her hand--for the post. And +she hadn't come back. I tell you, that worried me. I was half-crazy." +He tried to control his voice, to keep back the tears. + +"Then it's very bad news," ventured Farvel. He laid a hand on the +other man's sleeve. + +"I went over to the St. Clair house," Hull went on. "Clare hadn't been +there. Then--I knew. So I went to the one place--that was likely----" + +"You mean----" asked Farvel. "Oh, not that! Not that!" + +"She was there. She'd spoken about the river. That's why I was sure." + +"The river!" gasped Sue. "Oh, what are you saying?" + +"She'd done as she said," answered Hull, quietly. + +Sue sank to a bench. "Oh, that cry of hers, yesterday!" she reminded, +breaking down. "Do you remember, Mr. Farvel? When she saw you--'It's +all over! It's all over!' Oh, why did I let her out of my sight!" + +"It's my fault," declared Hull, hoarsely. "I was too hard on her. Too +hard." He turned away. + +Farvel went to him and held out his hand. Hull took it, and they stood +in silence for a long moment. Then Hull drew back. There was a queer, +distorted smile on his face. "This comes of a man's thinking he's +smart," he declared. "I wanted to show her I was on--instead of +letting her explain it all to me. But I've always been like that--too +smart--too smart." He turned and went out, walking unsteadily. + + +It was Sue who broke the news to Hattie. And when the latter had left +to rejoin her mother at the hotel (for it was agreed that it would be +better if Farvel and the girl did not see each other again until +later). Sue came back into the Close--to wait for Barbara. + +She waited beside the dial. There was nothing girl-like in her +posture. Her shoulders were as bent as Hull's had been. The high +color was gone from her face. And the gray eyes showed no look of +youth. She felt forsaken, and old, and there was an ache in her throat. + +"Well, the poor trapped soul is gone," she said presently, out loud to +herself. She looked down at the dial. "Time is not for her any more. +But rest--and peace." + +What changes had come while just these last twenty-four hours were +flying! while the shadow on that dial had made its single turn! + +"And here you are, Susan, high and dry." She had wept for another; she +laughed at herself. "Here you are, as Ikey says, 'All fixed up, und by +your lonesomes.' But never mind any lamentations, Susan." For her +breast was heaving in spite of herself. "Your hands are free--don't +forget that? And you can do l-l-l-lots of helpful things--for your +pocket is lined. And there must be something ahead for you, Susan! +There must be s-s-s-something!" + +"Miss Susan!" Someone had come from the drawing-room. + +"Dora!" But she kept her face turned away, lest she betray her tears. + +"It is your humble servant," acknowledged Dora. + +"Well, my humble servant, listen to me: I want you to pack my things +into that old trunk of father's. And put my typewriter into its case, +and screw the cover down. And when I send you word, you'll bring both +to me. But--no one is to know where you come." + +Dora's eyes bulged with the very mystery of it--the excitement. "Miss +Susan," she vowed gravely, "I shall follow your instructions if my life +is spared!" + +"And now--bring the little one." + +"In all my orphanage experience," confided Dora, delaying a moment to +impart this important news, "I've never heard so much mother-talk. +Since last night, she's not stopped for one _second_! I gave her a hot +lemonade to get her to sleep. And she was awake this morning when it +was still dark. I think"--with feeling--"that if she doesn't get her +mother pretty soon, she'll--she'll----" But words failed her. She +wagged her head and went out. + +Sue stood for a moment, looking straight before her, her eyes wide and +grave. Presently, a smile lighted them, and softened all her face. +She turned. Her hat and the long coat were on the bench with the toys. +She went to put them on, buttoning the coat carefully over the silver +gown. Next, she took from a pocket the ring that her brother had given +her. She held it up for the sun; to shine upon it. Then, very +deliberately, she slipped it upon the third finger of her left hand. + +A movement within the house, a patter of small feet at the drawing-room +door, and Sue turned. There stood a little girl in a dress of faded +gingham. Down her back by a string hung a shabby hat. But her shoes +were new and shining. + +In one hand she carried a doll. + +She glanced up and around--at the ivy-grown wall of the Church, at the +stained-glass windows glowing in the light, at the darting birds, the +wedding-bell, the massed flowers and palms; and down at the grass, so +neat and vividly green, and cool. Last of all, she looked at Sue. + +Sue knelt, and held out both hands, smilingly, invitingly; then waited, +dropping her arms to her sides again. + +Barbara came nearer, but paused once more, and the brown eyes studied +the gray. This for a long moment, when the child smiled back at Sue, +as if reassured, and nodded confidingly. + +"Oh, this is a beautiful garden," she said. "And after today, I'm +going to live where there's flowers all the time! My mother, she's +come back from Africa. My father hasn't, because he's got to hunt +lions. But my mother and me, we're going to live in a little cottage +in--in, well, some place. And there's a garden a-a-all around the +cottage,"--she made a sweeping gesture with one short arm--"a garden of +roses! And I'm going to have my mother every day. And she loves me! +And she's good, and brave, and sweet, and pretty." + +At that moment, Sue Milo was beautiful. All the tenderness of a heart +starved of its rightful love looked from her eyes. And her face shone +as if lighted by a flame. "I--love you!" she said tremulously. + +"Do you?"--there was an answering look of love in the eyes of the child. + +"Oh, _so_ tenderly!" + +The little face sobered. The small figure moved forward a step. +"I'm--I'm glad"--almost under her breath. "Because--because I love +_you_, too." Then coming still closer, and looking earnestly into +those eyes so full of gentle sweetness, "Who--are--you?" + +"Barbara,"--Sue's arms went out again, yearningly--"Barbara, I--am your +mother." + +"Mother!"--the cry rang through the Close. The child flung herself +into those waiting arms, clasping Sue with her own. "Oh, mother! +Mother! _Mother_!" + +"My baby! My baby!" + +Now past the open door of the Church, walking two and two in their +white cottas, came the choir. And their voices, high and clear, sang +that verse of Ikey's song which Sue loved best-- + + "_O happy harbor of God's Saints! + O sweet and pleasant soil! + In Thee no sorrow can be found, + Nor grief, nor care, nor toil!_" + + +Before the song was done, Barbara's hat was on, and with +"Lolly-Poppins" and the woolly lamb under an arm; with Sue similarly +burdened with the Kewpie, the new doll, and the duck that could quack, +the two went, hand in hand, across the lawn to that little white door +through which forsaken babies had often come, but through which one +lovingly claimed was now to go. And the little white door opened to +the touch of Sue's hand--and through it, to a new life and a new +happiness; to service sweet beyond words, went a new mother--and with +her, a new-found daughter. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK APRON-STRINGS*** + + +******* This file should be named 22804-8.txt or 22804-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/8/0/22804 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/22804-8.zip b/22804-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a31de37 --- /dev/null +++ b/22804-8.zip diff --git a/22804.txt b/22804.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f0f3cb --- /dev/null +++ b/22804.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8157 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Apron-Strings, by Eleanor Gates + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Apron-Strings + + +Author: Eleanor Gates + + + +Release Date: September 29, 2007 [eBook #22804] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK APRON-STRINGS*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +APRON-STRINGS + +by + +ELEANOR GATES + +Author of +The Poor Little Rich Girl, Etc. + + _A story for all mothers who have daughters + and for all daughters who have mothers_ + + + + + + + +New York +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers + +Copyright, 1917, by +Sully and Kleinteich +All rights reserved + +First edition, October, 1917 +Second edition, October, 1917 + + + + +DEAR ANN WILDE,-- + +It seems to me that there are, broadly speaking, three kinds of +mothers. First, there is the kind that does not plan for, or want, a +child, but, having borne one, invariably takes the high air of +martyrdom, feeling that she has rendered the supreme service, and that, +henceforth, nothing is too good for her. Second, there is the mother +who loves her own children devotedly, and has as many as her health and +the family purse will permit, but who is fairly indifferent to other +women's children. Last of all, there is the mother who loves anybody's +children--everybody's children. Where the first kind of mother finds +"young ones" a bother, and the second revels in a contrast of her +darlings with her neighbors' little people (to the disparagement of the +latter), the third never fails to see a baby if there is a baby around, +never fails to be touched by little woes or joys; belongs, perhaps, to +a child-study club, or helps to support a kindergarten, or gives as +freely as possible to some orphanage. And often such a woman, finding +herself childless, and stirred to her action by a voice that is +Nature's, ordering her to fulfill her woman's destiny, makes choice +from among those countless little ones who are unclaimed; and if she +happens not to be married, nevertheless, like a mateless bird, she sets +lovingly about the building of a home nest. + +This last kind is the best of all mothers. Not only is the fruit of +her body precious to her, but all child-life is precious. She is the +super-mother: She is the woman with the universal mother-heart. + +You, the "Auntie-Mother" to two lucky little girls, are of this type +which I so honor. And that is why I dedicate to you this story--with +great affection, and with profound respect. + +Your friend, + ELEANOR GATES. + +New York, 1917. + + + + +APRON-STRINGS + + +CHAPTER I + +"I tell you, there's something funny about it, Steve,--having the wedding +out on that scrap of lawn." It was the florist who was speaking. He was +a little man, with a brown beard that lent him a professional air. He +gave a jerk of the head toward the high bay-window of the Rectory +drawing-room, set down his basket of smilax on the well-cared-for +Brussels that, after a disappearing fashion, carpeted the drawing-room +floor, and proceeded to select and cut off the end of a cigar. + +"Something wrong," assented Steve. He found and filled a pipe. + +The other now dropped his voice to a whisper. "'Mrs. Milo,' I says to +the old lady, 'give me the Church to decorate and I'll make it look like +something.' 'My good man,' she come back,--you know the way she +talks--'the wedding will be in the Close.'" + +"A stylish name for not much of anything," observed Steve. "The Close! +Why not call it a yard and be done with it?" + +"English," explained the florist. "--Well, I pointed out that _this_ +room would be a good place for the ceremony. I could hang the +wedding-bell right in the bay-window. But at that, _click_ come the old +lady's teeth together. 'The wedding will be in the Close,' she says +again, and so I shut my mouth." + +"Temper." + +"Exactly. And why? What's the matter with the Church? and what's the +matter with this room?--that they have to go outdoors to marry up the +poor youngsters. What's worse, that Close hasn't got the best +reputation. For there stands that orphan basket, in plain sight----" + +"It's _no_ place for a wedding!" + +"Of course not!--a yard where of a night poor things come sneaking in----" + +A door at the far end of the long room had opened softly. Now a voice, +gentle, well-modulated, and sorrowfully reproving, halted the protesting +of the florist, and paralyzed his upraised finger. "That will do," said +the voice. + +What had frozen the gesture of his employer only accelerated the +movements of Steve. Recollecting that he was in his shirt-sleeves, he +snatched the pipe from his mouth, seized upon the smilax basket, and +sidled swiftly through the door leading to the Close. + +"Goo--good-morning, Mrs. Milo," stammered the florist, putting his cigar +behind his back with one large motion that included a bow. +"Good-afternoon. I've just brought the festoons for the wedding-bower." +Once more he jerked his head in the direction of the bay-window, and +edged his way toward it a step or two, his fluttering eyelids belieing +the smile that divided his beard. + +Mrs. Milo, her background the heavy oak door that led to the library, +made a charming figure as she looked down the room at him. She was a +slender, active woman, who carried her seventy years with grace. Her +hair was a silvery white, and so abundant that it often gave rise to +justified doubt; now it was dressed with elaborate care. Her eyes were a +bright--almost a metallic--blue. Despite her age, her face was silkily +smooth, and as fair as a girl's, having none of those sallow spots which +so frequently mar the complexions of the old. Her cheeks showed a faint +color. Her nose was perhaps too thin, but it was straight and finely +cut. Her mouth was small, pretty, and curved by an almost constant +smile. Her hands were slender, soft, and young. They were not given to +quick movements. Now they hung touching the blue-gray of her +morning-dress, which, with ruffles of lace at collar and wrists, had the +fresh smartness of a uniform. + +"You are smoking?" she inquired. That habitual smile was on her lips, +but her eyes were cold. + +"Just--just a dry smoke,"--with a note of injured innocence. + +"Your cigar is in your mouth," she persisted, "and yet you're not +smoking." + +At that, the florist took a forward step. "And my teeth are in my +mouth," he answered boldly, "but I'm not eating." + +Another woman might have shrunk from the impudence of his retort, or +replied angrily. Mrs. Milo only advanced, with slow elegance, prepared +again to put him on the defensive. "Why do I find you in this room?" she +demanded. + +"I'm just passing through--to the lawn." + +"Do not pass through again." + +"Well, I'd like to know about that," returned the florist, +argumentatively. "When I mentioned passing through the Church, why, the +Rector, he says to me----" + +Mrs. Milo lifted a white hand to check him. "Never mind what Mr. Farvel +said," she admonished sharply; then, with quick gentleness, "You know +that he has lived here only little more than a year." + +"Oh, I know." + +"And I have lived here fifteen years." + +"True," assented the florist. "But I was talking with Miss Susan about +passing through the Church, and Miss Susan----" + +The blue eyes flashed. And once more Mrs. Milo advanced. "Never mind +what my daughter told you," she commanded, but without raising her voice. +"I am compelled to make this Rectory my home because Miss Milo does the +secretarial work of the parish. And what kind of a home should I have if +I allowed the place to be in continual disorder?" + +There was a pause, the two facing each other. Then the look of the +florist fell. "I'll go in by way of the Church, madam," he announced. +And turned away with a stiff bow. + +"One moment." The order was curt; but as he brought up, and turned about +once more, Mrs. Milo spoke almost confidentially. "As you very well +know," she reminded, her face slightly averted, "there is a third +entrance to the Close." + +The florist saw his opportunity. "Oh, yes," he declared; "--the little +white door where the ladies come of a night to leave their orphans." + +That brought Mrs. Milo about. And the color deepened in her cheeks. It +was the red, not only of anger, but of modesty. "The women who desert +their infants in that basket," she replied (again that sorrowful +intonation), "are not ladies." + +The florist was highly pleased with results. "That may be so," he went +on, with renewed boldness; "but for my ladders, and my plants, the little +white door is too small, and so----" He stopped short. His jaw dropped. +His eyes widened, and fixed themselves in undisguised admiration upon a +young woman who had entered the room behind Mrs. Milo--a lankish, but +graceful young woman, radiant in a gown of shimmering satin, her fair +hair haloed by carefully carried lengths of misty tulle. "And so," +resumed the florist, absent-mindedly, "and so--and so----" + +Mrs. Milo moved across the carpet to a sofa, adjusted a velvet cushion, +and seated herself. "Go and do your work," she said sharply. "It must +be finished this afternoon. And remember: I don't want to see you in +this room again." + +"Very well, madam." With a smile and a bow, neither of which was +intended for Mrs. Milo, the florist recovered his self-possession, threw +wide his hands in a gesture that was an eloquent tribute to the shining +apparition at the farther end of the room, and backed out. + +"Ha-a-a!" sighed Mrs. Milo--with gratification in her triumph over the +decorator, and with a sense of comfort in that cushioned corner of her +favorite sofa. She settled her slender shoulders against the velvet. + +Now the satin gown crossed the carpet, and its wearer let fall the +veiling which she had upborne on her outstretched arms. "Mrs. Milo," she +began. + +"Oh!" Mrs. Milo straightened, but without turning, and the fear that the +other had heard her curt dismissal of the florist showed in the quick +shifting of her look. When she spoke again, her voice was all +gentleness. "Yes, my dear new daughter?" she inquired. + +Hattie Balcome cocked her head to one side, extended a satin-clad foot, +threw out her hands with fingers extended, and struck a grotesque pose. +"Turn--and behold!" she bade sepulchrally. + +Mrs. Milo turned. "A-a-a-ah!" Then having given the wedding-gown a +brief scrutiny, "Er--yes--hm! It's quite pretty." + +"Quite pretty!" repeated Hattie. She revolved once, slowly. "What's the +matter with it?" + +"We-e-e-ell," began Mrs. Milo, appraising the gown at more length; "isn't +it rather simple, my dear,--for a girl whose father is as wealthy as +yours? Somehow I expected at least a little real lace." + +Hattie laughed. "What on earth could I do with real lace in the +mountains of Peru?" + +"Peru!" Instantly Mrs. Milo's face grew long. "Then--then my son has +finally decided to accept the position in Peru." Now she took her +underlip in her teeth; and her lashes fluttered as if to keep back tears. + +"But you won't miss him terribly, will you? As it is you don't have +him--you don't see such a lot of him." + +"Of course, as you say, I don't have him--except for a couple of weeks in +the summer, when Sue has her vacation, and we all go to the Catskills. +Then at Christmastime he comes here for a week. Sue has never asked +permission to have Wallace live at the Rectory----" + +"Except of Mr. Farvel." + +"Mr. Farvel didn't have to be asked. He and Wallace are old friends. +They met years ago--once when Wallace went to Canada with a boy chum. +And Canada's the farthest he's ever been, so----" + +"It was I who decided on Peru," said the girl, almost defiantly. "The +very day he proposed to me he told me about the big silver mine down +there that wants a young engineer. And I said Yes on one condition: that +Wallace would take me as far away from home as possible." + +The elder woman rose, finger on lip. "Sh!" she cautioned, glancing +toward the door left open by the florist. "Oh, we don't want any gossip, +Hattie!" + +Hattie lifted her eyebrows. "We don't want it," she agreed, "but we +shall get it. They'll all be asking one another, 'Why not the Church? or +the drawing-room? Why the yard?'" She nodded portentously. + +Mrs. Milo came nearer. "They'll never suspect," she promised. "Outdoor +weddings are very fashionable." + +"Maybe. But what I can't understand is this: Dad's heart is set on this +marriage. He wants to get me out of the way." Then as Mrs. Milo's +expression changed from a gratified beam to a stare of horror, "Oh, don't +be shocked; he has his good reasons. But as I'm going, why can't he make +a few concessions, instead of trying to spoil the wedding?" + +"Spoil, dear?" chided the elder woman. "The wedding will be beautiful in +the Close." + +Hattie's brown eyes swam with sudden tears. "Perhaps," she answered. +"But just for this one time, why can't my father and mother----" + +"Please, Hattie!" pleaded Mrs. Milo. "We must be discreet!" Then to +change the subject, "My dear, let me see the back." + +Once more Hattie revolved accommodatingly. Close to the door leading to +the lawn was a door which led, by a short passage, to the little, old +Gothic church which, long planted on its generous allowance of grounds, +had defied--along with an Orphanage that was all but a part of the +Church, so near did the two buildings stand--the encroachment of new, +tall, office structures. As Hattie turned about, she kept her watch on +the door leading to the Church. + +"It's really very sweet," condescended Mrs. Milo. "But--you mustn't let +Wallace get a glimpse of this dress before tomorrow." She shook a +playful finger. "That would be bad luck. Now,--what does Susan think of +it?" She seated herself to receive the verdict. + +Hattie wagged her head in mock despair. "Oh," she complained, "how I've +tried to find out!" + +All Mrs. Milo's playfulness went. She stood up, her manner suddenly +anxious. "Isn't she upstairs?" she asked. + +One solemn finger was pointed ceilingward. "I have even paged the attic!" + +Mrs. Milo hastened across the room. "Why, she must be upstairs," she +cried. "I sent her up not an hour ago." + +"Well, the villain has just naturally come down." + +"Susan! Susan!"--Mrs. Milo was calling into the hall leading to the +upper floors of the Rectory. "Look in the vestibule, Hattie." + +"Perhaps she has escaped to the Orphanage." Hattie gave a teasing laugh +over her shoulder as she moved to obey. + +Mrs. Milo had abandoned the hall door by now, and was fluttering toward +the library. "Orphanage?" she repeated. "Oh, not without consulting me. +And besides there's so much to be done in this house before +tomorrow.--Susan! Susan!" She went out, calling more impatiently. + +As Hattie disappeared into the vestibule, that door from the passage, +upon which she had kept a watch, was opened, slowly and cautiously, and +the tousled head of a boy was thrust in. Seeing that the drawing-room +was vacant, the boy now threw the door wide, disclosing nine other small +heads, but nine more carefully combed. The ten were packed in the narrow +passage, and did not move forward with the opening of the door. Their +freshly washed faces were eager; but they contented themselves with +rising on tiptoe to peer into the room. About them, worn over black +cassocks, hung their spotless cottas. Choir boys they were, but on every +small countenance was written the indefinable mark of the orphan-reared. + +Now he of the tousled hair stole forward across the sill. And boldly +signaled the others. "St!--Aw, come on!" he cried. "What're you 'fraid +of! Didn't the new minister tell us to wait in here?" + +The choir obeyed him, but without argument. As each cotta-clad figure +advanced, eyes were directed toward doors, and hands mutely signed what +tongues feared to utter. One boy came to the sofa and gingerly smoothed +a velvet pillow; whispering and pointing, the others scattered--to look +up at a painting of a bishop of the Anglican Church, which hung above the +mantel, to open the Bible on the small mahogany table that held the +center of the room, to touch the grand piano with moist and marking +finger-tips, and to gaze with awe upon two huge and branching +candlesticks that flanked a marble clock above the hearth. + +Now a husky whisper broke the unwonted silence of the choir; and an +excited, finger directed all eyes to the painting of the Bishop: "Oh, +fellers! Fellers!" He rallied his companions with his other arm. +"Look-ee! Look-ee! That's Momsey's father!" + +"Momsey's father!" It was the tousled chorister, and he plowed his way +forward through the gathering choir before the hearth. "What're you +talkin' about? Momsey's father wasn't a minister." + +But the other was not to be gainsaid. "Yes, he was," he persisted; "and +it's him." + +"Aw, that's a Bishop,--or somethin'. There's Momsey's father." Beside +the library door stood a small writing-desk. Atop it, in a wooden frame, +was a photograph. This was now caught up, and went from hand to hand +among the crowding boys. "That's him, and he's been dead twenty years." + +"Let me see!" A shining tow-head wriggled up from under the arms of +taller boys, and a freckled hand captured the picture. "Why, he looks +like Momsey!" + +The tousled songster seized the photograph in righteous anger. "Sure!" +he cried, waving it in the face of the tow-headed boy; "you don't think +she takes after her mother, do y'?" + +A chorus of protests, all aimed at the tow-head, which was turned +defensively from side to side. + +"Y' know what _I_ think?" demanded the tousled one. He motioned the +others to gather round. "I don't believe the old lady is Momsey's mother +at a-a-all!" + +"Oo-oo-oo!" The choir gasped and stared. + +"No, I don't," persisted the boy. "I believe that years, and years, and +years ago, some nice, poor lady come cree-ee-eepin' through the little +white door, and left Momsey--in the basket!" + +Nine small countenances beamed with delight. "You're right!" the choir +clamored. "You're right! You're dead right!" White sleeves were waved +joyously aloft. + +Now the heavy door to the library began to swing against the backs of two +or three. The choir did not wait to see who was entering. Smiles +vanished. Eyes grew frightened. Like one, the boys wheeled and fled. +The door into the passage stood wide. They crowded through it, and +halted only when the last cotta was across the sill. Then, like a flock +of scared quail, they faced about, panting, and ready for further flight. + +One look, and ten musical throats emitted as many unmusical shouts of +laughter. While the tousle-headed boy, swinging the photograph which he +had failed to restore to its place, again set foot upon the Brussels of +the drawing-room. "Oh! Oh!" he laughed. "Oh, golly, Dora, you scared +me!" + +With all the dignity of her sixteen years, and with all the authority of +one who has graduated from the ranks of an Orphanage to the higher, if +rarer, air of a Rector's residence, Dora surveyed with shocked +countenance the saucy visages of the ten. On occasions she could assume +a manner most impressive--a manner borrowed in part from a butler who had +been installed, at one time, by a wealthy and high-living incumbent of +St. Giles, and in part from ministers who had reigned there by turns and +whose delivery and outward manifestations of inward sanctity she had +carefully studied during the period of her own labor in the house. Now +with finger-tips together, and with the spirit of those half-dozen +ecclesiastics sounding in her nasal sing-song, she voiced her stern +reproof: + +"My dear brothers!" + +"Aw," scoffed a boy, "we ain't neither your brothers." + +"I am speaking in the broad sense," explained Dora, with the loftiness of +one who addresses a throng from a pulpit. Then shaking a finger, "'The +wicked flee when no man pursueth'--Proverbs, twenty-eighth chapter, and +first verse." + +"We're not wicked," denied the boy. "Mr. Farvel told us to come." + +"We're goin' to rehearse for the weddin'," chimed in the tow-headed one. + +Dora let her look travel from face to face, the while she shook her head +solemnly. "But," she reminded, "if Mrs. Milo finds you here, only a +miracle can save you!" + +"Aw, I'm not afraid of her,"--the uncombed chorister advanced bravely. +"She's only a boarder. And after this, I'm goin' to mind just Mr. +Farvel." + +Something like horrified pity lengthened the pale face of Dora. "Little +boys," she advised, "in these brief years since I left the Orphanage, +I've seen ministers come and ministers go. But Mrs. Milo"--she turned +away--"like the poor----" Her ministerial gesture was eloquent of +hopelessness. + +The boys in the passage stared at one another apprehensively. But their +leader was flushed with excitement and wrath. "Dora," he cried, hurrying +over to check her going, "do you know what I wish would happen?" + +She turned accusingly. "Oh, Bobbie! What a sinful thought!" + +"But I wasn't wishin' _that_!" + +"Drive it out of your heart!" she counseled, with all the passion of an +evangelist. "Drive it out of your heart! Remember: she can't live +forever. She ain't immortal. But let her stay her appointed +time,"--this last with the bowed head proper to the sentiment, so that +two short, tight braids stood ceilingward. + +The stifled exclamations of the waiting ten brought her head up once +more. From the vestibule, resplendent in shining satin and billows of +tulle, had appeared a vision. The choir gazed on it in open-mouthed +wonder. "Oh, look! The bride! Mm! Ain't it beautiful!" + +Hattie was equal to the occasion. Dropping all the tulle into place, she +walked from bay-window to table and back again, displaying her finery. +"Isn't it pretty?" she agreed. "See the veil. And look!" + +Head on one side, the ever-philosophical Dora watched her. And Hattie, +halting, turned once around for the benefit of all observers, but with an +inviting smile toward the girl, as to a sister-spirit who would be +certain to appreciate. + +Dora lifted gingham-clad shoulders in a weary shrug. "'Can a maid forget +her ornaments?'" she quoted; "'or a bride her attire?'" + +"Well, I like that!" cried Hattie. + +Quickly Dora extended a hand with a gesture unmistakably cleric. +"Jeremiah," she explained; "--second chapter, and thirty-second verse." + +But Hattie was not deceived. She rustled forward. "Yes!" she retorted. +"And Hattie Balcome, first chapter, and first verse, reads: 'Can a maid +forget her _manners_?'" + +Dora was suddenly all meekness. "If she forgets her duties," she +answered, "she shall flee from Mrs. Milo--and the wrath to come!" +Whereupon, with a bounce and a giggle, neither of which was in keeping +with her spoken fears, she went out, banging the library door. + +Hattie turned, and here was the choir at her back, engrossed in the +beauties of her apparel. She gave the little group a friendly nod and a +smile. "So you are the boys," she commented. + +Bobbie was quick to explain. "We're some of the boys," he said. +"There's about fifty more of us, and pretty near fifty girls, too, over +in the Orphanage." + +"But--aren't you all rather big to be left in a basket?" + +"Oh, not all of us are left in the basket." Bobbie shook his rumpled mop +with great finality. + +"No." It was a smaller boy. "Just the fellers that never had any +mothers or fathers." + +"Like me," piped a chorister from the rear. + +"And me," put in the tow-headed boy. + +Hattie looked them over carefully. "Which," she inquired, "is the one +that is borrowed from his aunt?" + +The group stirred. A murmur went from boy to boy. "Mm! Yes! That one! +Oh, him!" + +"That's Ikey Einstein," explained Bobbie. "And he's in the Church right +now. You see, he's borrowed on account of his won-der-ful voice. Momsey +says Ikey's got a song-bird in his throat." + +Once more the group stirred, murmuring its assent. It was the testimony +of a choir to its finest songster--a testimony strong with pride. + +At that same moment, sounding from beyond the heavy door that gave to the +Church, came a long-drawn howl of mingled rage and woe. "Wa-ah!"--it was +the voice of a boy; "oh, wa-a-a-ah!" + +Bobbie lifted a finger to point. "That," said he proudly, "is Ikey now." +He motioned the choir into the bay-window, and Hattie followed. + +The wails increased in volume. The door at the end of the passage swung +open; and into sight, amid loud boo-hoos, pressed a squirming trio. +There were two torn and dirty boys, their faces streaked with tears, +their hands vainly trying to grapple. And between the two, holding to +each by a handful of cassock, and by turns scolding and beseeching the +quarreling pair, came Sue Milo. + +Strangers saw Sue Milo as an attractive, middle-aged woman, tall, and +full-figured, whose face was expressive and inclined toward a high color, +whose shining brown hair was well grayed at the temples, and whose eyes, +blue-gray, and dark-lashed, were wide and kindly. + +Strangers marked her for a capable, dependable woman, too; and found +suited to her the adjective "motherly." This for the same reason which +moved new acquaintances instinctively to address her as "Mrs." For Sue +Milo, at forty-five, bore none of the marks of the so-called typical +spinster. + +But a curious change of attitude toward her was the experience of that +man or woman who came to know her even casually. Though at a first +meeting she seemed to be all of her age, with better acquaintance she +appeared to grow rapidly younger. So that it was not strange to hear her +referred to as "the Milo girl," and not infrequently she was included at +gatherings of people who were still in their twenties. In just what her +youthfulness lay it was hard to define. At times an expression of the +eye, a trick of straight-looking, or perhaps the lifting and turning of +the chin, or a quick bringing together of the hands,--all these were +girlish. There was that about her which made her seem as simple and +unaffected as a child. + +Yet capable and dependable she was--as any crisis at Rectory or Orphanage +had proven repeatedly. And when quick decisions were demanded, all +turned as if with one accord to Sue. And she was as quick to execute. +Or if that was beyond her power, she roused others to action. It was a +rector of St. Giles who once applied to her a description that was +singularly fitting: "She is," he said, "like a ship under full sail." + +Just now she was a ship in a storm. + +"Aw, you did said it!" cried the wailing Ikey, pointing at his adversary +a forefinger wrapped in a handkerchief. "You did! You did! I heard you +said it!" + +"I never! I never!" denied his opponent. "It ain't so! Boo-hoo!" + +Sue gave them an impartial shake. "That will do!" she declared, trying +hard to speak with force, while her eyes twinkled. "--Ikey, do you hear +me?--Put down that fist, Clarence!--Now, be still and listen to me!" +With another shake, she quieted them; whereupon, holding each at arm's +length, she surveyed them by turns. "Oh, my soul, such little heathen!" +she pronounced. "Now what do you think I am? A fight umpire? Do you +want to damage each other for life?" + +Clarence was all sniffles, and rubbed at the injured arm. But Ikey had +no mind to be blamed undeservedly. He squared about upon Sue with +flashing eye. "But, Momsey, he _did_ said it!" he repeated. + +Sue tightened her grip on his cassock. "And, oh, my soul, such grammar!" +she mourned. "'He did said it!' You mean, He do said--he do say--he +done--oh, now you've got _me_ twisted!" + +"Just de same, he called it to me," asserted Ikey. + +"I never, I tell you! I never!" + +"Ah! Ah!" Once more Sue struggled to hold them apart. "And what, Mr. +Ikey, did he call you?" + +"He calls me," cried the insulted Ikey, "--he calls me a pie-faces!--Ach!" + +"And what did you call him?" + +"I didn't call him not'ing!" answered Ikey, beginning to wail again at +the very thought of his failure to do himself justice; "not--von--t'ing!" + +"But"--with a wisdom born of long choir experience--"you must have said +something." + +"All I says," chanted Ikey, "--all I says is, 'You can't sing. What you +do is----'" And lowering and raising his head, he emitted a long, +lifelike bray. + +"Yah!" burst forth the enraged Clarence, struggling to clutch his hated +fellow. + +"Wa-a-a-ah!" wept Ikey, who had struck out and hurt his already injured +digit. "You donkey!--donkey!" + +Breathing hard, Sue managed to keep them apart; to bring them back to +their proper distance. "Look at them!" she said with fine sarcasm. "Oh, +look at Ikey Einstein!--Where's your handkerchief?" + +Weeping, he indicated it by a duck of the chin. + +At such a point of general melting, it was safe to release combatants. +Sue freed the two, and took from Ikey's pocket a square of cotton once +white, but now characteristically gray, and strangely heavy. "Here, put +up that poor face," she comforted. But at this unpropitious moment, the +handkerchief, clear of the pocket, sagged with its holdings and deposited +upon the carpet several yellowish, black-spotted cubes. "Dice!" +exclaimed Sue, horrified. "Dice!--Ikey Einstein, what do you call +yourself!" + +Pride stopped Ikey's tears. He thrust out his underlip and waved a hand +at the scattered cubes. "Momsey," he answered stoutly, "don't you know? +Why, ever since day before yesterdays, I am a t'ree-card-monte man!" + +"You're a three-card-what?" + +Unable longer to restrain their mirth, that portion of the choir that was +in the bay-window now whooped with delight. And Sue, turning, beheld ten +figures writhing with joy. + +"So!" she began severely. The ten sobered, and their cottas billowed in +a backward step. "So here you are!--where you have no business to be!" + +Bobbie, the spokesman, ventured to the rescue of his mates. "But, +Momsey----" + +"Now! No excuses! You all know that you do not come into this +drawing-room, to track up the carpet--look at your feet! And to pull +things about, like a lot of red Indians! And finger-print the mahogany! +And, oh, how disappointed I am in you! To disobey!" + +"But the minister----" piped up the tow-headed boy. + +"That's right!" she retorted sarcastically. "Blame it on Mr. Farvel! As +if you don't know the regulations!" + +"But this is Mr. Farvel's house," urged Bobbie. + +"A-a-ah!--Now that makes it worse! Now I know you've deliberately +ignored my mother's wishes! And if she finds you out, and, oh, I hope +she does, don't you come to me to save you from punishment? Depend upon +it, I shan't lift my little finger to help you! No! Not if it's bread +and water for a week! Not if you----" + +A door slammed. From the library came the sound of quick steps. Then a +voice was upraised: "Susan! Susan!" + +The red paled in Sue's cheeks. "Oh!" She threw out both arms as if to +sweep the entire choir to her. "Oh, my darlings!" she whispered +hoarsely. "Oh! Oh, mother mustn't see you! Go! Hurry!" As they +crowded to her, she thrust them backward, through the door to the +passage. "Oh, quick! Bobbie! My dears!" + +Eight were crammed into the shelter of the passage. Four pressed against +their fellows but could not get across the sill in time. These Sue swept +into a crouching line at her back--as the library door opened, and Mrs. +Milo came panting into the room. + +As mother and daughter faced each other, Hattie, seated quietly in the +bay-window, smiled at the two--so amazingly unlike. It was as if an +aristocratic, velvet-footed feline were bristling before a great, +good-tempered St. Bernard. In a curious way, too, and in a startling +degree, each woman subtracted sharply from the other. In the presence of +Sue, Mrs. Milo's petiteness became weakness, her dainty trimness +accentuated her helplessness, her delicate coloring looked ill-health; +while Sue, by contrast, seemed over-high as to color, almost boisterous +of voice, and careless in dress. + +Mrs. Milo's look was all reproval. "Susan Milo," she began, "where have +you been?" + +Sue was standing very still--in order not to uncover a vestige of boy. +She smiled, half wistfully, half mischievously. "Just--er--in the +Church, mother." She had her own way of saying "mother." On her lips it +was no mere title, lightly used. Her very prolonging of the "r" gave the +word all the tender meanings--undivided love, and loyalty, protection, +yet dependence. She spoke it like a caress. + +Mrs. Milo recognized in her daughter's tone an apology for something. +Quick suspicion took the place of reproval. "And what were you doing in +the Church?"--with a rising inflection. + +"Well, I--I was sort of--poking around." + +"St!"--an exclamation of impatience. Then, "Churches are not made to +poke in." + +Now there came to Sue that look that suggested a little girl, and a +naughty little girl at that. She turned on her mother a beguiling smile. +"I--I was--er--poking in the vestry," she explained. + +Mrs. Milo observed that the bay-window held a young person in white +satin, who was sitting very still, and was all attention. She managed a +faint returning smile, therefore, and assumed a playful tone. "The +vestry is not a part of your duties as secretary," she reminded. "And +there's so much to do, my daughter,--the decorations, the caterer, +the----" + +"I know, mother. I shan't neglect a thing." Sue swayed a little, to the +clutch of a small hand dragging at her skirt. + +"And as I've said before, I prefer that you'd take all of Mr. Farvel's +dictation in the library; I don't want you hanging about in the vestry +unless I'm with you.--Will you please pay attention to what I'm +saying?"--this with much patience. + +Over one arm, folded, Sue carried a garment of ministerial black. This +she now unfolded and spread, the better to hide the boy crouching closest +at her back. "Oh, yes, mother dear," she admitted reassuringly. "Yes." + +"And what is that you have?" The tone might have been used to a child. + +Hurriedly Sue doubled the black lengths. "It's--it's just a vestment," +she explained, embarrassed. + +"Please." Mrs. Milo held out a white hand. + +To go forward and lay the vestment in that hand meant to disclose the +presence of the hiding quartette. With quick forethought, Sue leaned far +forward in what might be mistaken for a bow, tipped her head gaily to one +side, and stretched an arm to proffer the offending garment. "Here, +motherkins! It's in need of mending." + +Mrs. Milo tossed the vestment to the piano. "What has your work--your +accounts and statements and stenography--what have they to do with the +Rector's mending?" she demanded. + +"Well, mother, I used to mend for the last minister." + +"Oh, my daughter!" mourned Mrs. Milo. + +"Ye-e-e-s, mother?"--fearful that the boys were at last discovered. + +"Do you mean to say that you see no difference in mending for a single +man? a young man? an utter stranger?" + +Sue heaved a sigh of relief. "Mother darling," she protested fondly; +"hardly a stranger." + +"We'll not discuss it," said her mother gently; then taking a more +judicial attitude, "Now, I'll speak to those boys." + +Long experience had shown Sue Milo that there were times when it was best +to put off the evil moment, since at any juncture something quite +unforeseen--such as an unexpected arrival--might solve her difficulty. +This was such an occasion. So with over-elaborate care, she proceeded to +outline the forthcoming program of the morning. "You see, mother, we're +to rehearse--choir and all. They'll march from the library, right across +here----" She indicated the route of procession. + +But long experience had taught Mrs. Milo that procrastination often +robbed her of her best opportunities. She pointed a slender finger to +the carpet in front of her. "The boys," she said more firmly. + +One by one, Sue brought them forward--Bobbie in the lead, then the +tow-headed boy; this to conceal the unfortunate state of Ikey and the +war-like Clarence. "Here they are, mother!" she announced gaily. "Here +are our fine little men!" + +Neither cheerful air nor kindly adjective served to pacify Mrs. Milo's +anger at sight of the four intruders. Her nostrils swelled. "What are +you doing here?" she questioned, with a mildness contradicted by her +look; "--against my strict orders." + +Bobbie, the ever-ready, strove to answer, swallowed, paled, choked, and +turned appealingly to Sue; while the remaining three, with upraised eyes, +beseeched her like dumb things. + +"Absolutely necessary, mother," declared Sue. She gave each boy a +reassuring pat. "As I was saying, they march from the library, preceding +the bride----" + +But Mrs. Milo was not listening. There was that still white figure in +the bay-window, observing the scene intently. She bestowed a pleasant +nod upon the quartette. "You may go now, boys," she said cooingly; "I'll +speak to you later." + +Bobbie found his voice. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you!"--and took one long +step churchward. The tow-headed boy moved with him. + +This left unshielded the erstwhile contesting twain. Mrs. Milo's look +seemed to fall upon them like a blow. "Oh! Oh!" she cried in horror, +pointing. + +As one, Ikey and Clarence began rubbing tell-tale streaks from their +countenances with their rumpled cottas, and pressing down their +upstanding hair. + +"No! No-o-o!" cried Mrs. Milo. "That photograph! What are you doing +with it?" + +In sudden panic, Bobbie shifted the photograph from hand to hand; tried +to force it into the hands of the tow-headed boy, then bent to consign it +to the carpet. + +Sue was beforehand. She caught the picture away from the small trembling +hand, and smiled upon her mother. "Oh--I--I was just going to look at +it," she explained. "Thank you, Bobbie.--Isn't it good of father! So +natural, and--and----" + +Mrs. Milo was not deceived. "Give it to me," she said coldly. And as +Sue obeyed, "Now, go, boys. Dora, poor child, works so hard to keep this +drawing-room looking well. We can't have you disarrange it. Come! Be +prompt!" + +Sue urged the four passageward. "They were just going, mother.--Don't +touch the woodwork; use the door knob." + +And now, when it seemed that even Ikey and Clarence might escape +undetected, Mrs. Milo gave another cry. "Oh, what's the matter with +those two?" she demanded. + +There was no long term of orphanage life to quiet the young savage in +Ikey. And with his much-prized voice, he was even accustomed to being +listened to on more than musical occasions. Now he bolted forward, +disregarding Sue's hand, which caught at him as he passed. "Missis," +began the borrowed soloist, meeting Mrs. Milo's horrified gaze with +undaunted eye, "Clarence, he is jealousy dat I sing so fine." + +To argue with Sue, or to subdue her, that was one thing; to come to cases +with Ikey was quite another. He had an unpleasant habit of threatening +to betake himself out and away to his aunt, or to go on strike at such +dramatic times as morning service. Therefore, it seemed safer now to +ignore the question of torn and muddied cottas, and seize upon some other +pretext for censure. "What kind of language is that?" questioned Mrs. +Milo, gently chiding. "'He is jealousy'!" + +"Yes, quaint, isn't it, mother?" broke in Sue. "Really quaint." And to +Ikey, "Not jealousy--jealous." + +Ikey bobbed. Before him, like a swathed candle, he upheld his sore +finger. + +"Please, Susan!" begged Mrs. Milo, with a look which made her daughter +fall back apologetically. And to Ikey, "How did you come by that wound?" + +The truth would not do. And the truth was even now on the very tip of +Ikey's heedless tongue. Sue gave him a little sidewise push. "Mother +dear," she explained, "it was accidental." + +Aghast at the very boldness of the statement, Ikey came about upon the +defender. "Ac-ci-den-tal!" he cried; "dat he smashes me in de hand? Oh, +Momsey!" + +"Sh! Sh!" implored Sue. + +But the worst had happened. Now, voice or no voice, aunt or no aunt, +Ikey must be disciplined. Mrs. Milo caught him by a white sleeve. "Ikey +Einstein!" she breathed, appalled. + +"Yes, Missis?" + +"Please don't 'Missis' me! What did you call my daughter?" + +"I--I mean Miss Milo." + +"What did you call my daughter?" + +"Mother," pleaded Sue, "it slipped out." + +"Do not interrupt me." + +"No, mother." + +"Answer me, Ikey." + +"I says to her, Momsey." + +Mrs. Milo glared at the boy, her breast heaving. There was more in her +hostile attitude toward him than the fact that he bore signs of a fracas, +or that he had dared in her hearing to let slip the "Momsey" he so loved +to use. To her, pious as she was (but pious through habit rather than +through any deep conviction), the mere sight of the child was enough to +rouse her anger. She resented his ever having been taken into the choir +of St. Giles, no matter how good his voice might be. She even resented +his having a voice. He was "that little Jew" always, and a living symbol +"in our Christian church" of a "race that had slain the Lord." And it +was all this which added to his sin in daring to look upon her daughter +with an affection that was filial. + +"Ikey Einstein,"--she emphasized the name--"haven't you been told never +to address Miss Susan as 'Momsey'?" + +"He forgot," urged Sue. "But he won't ever----" + +"You're interrupting again----" + +"Excuse me." + +"How do you expect these boys to be obedient when you don't set them a +good example?" Her sorrowful smile was purely muscular in its origin. + +"I am to blame, mother----" + +Mrs. Milo returned to the errant soloist. "And you were willfully +disobeying, you wicked little boy!" + +A queer look came into Ikey's eyes. His angular face seemed to draw up. +His ears moved under their eaves of curling hair. "Ye-e-es, Missis," he +drawled calmly. + +Mrs. Milo was a judge of moods. She knew she had gone far enough. She +assumed a tone of deepest regret. "Ungrateful children!" she said, +distributing her censure. "Think of the little orphans who don't get the +care you get! Think----" And arraigning the sagging Clarence, "Don't +lean against Miss Milo." + +Ikey grinned. Experience had taught him that when Mrs. Milo permitted +herself to halt a scolding, she would not resume it. Furthermore, a +loud, burring bell was ringing from somewhere beyond the Church, and that +summons meant the choirmaster, a personage who was really formidable. +Before Sue, he raised that candle-like finger. + +"Practice," announced Mrs. Milo, pointing to the passage. + +Three boys drew churchward on sluggish feet. But Sue held Ikey back. +"His finger hurts," she comforted. "Come! We'll get some liniment." + +"Susan!"--gently reproving again. "There's liniment in the Dispensary." + +Up, as before a teacher, came Ikey's well hand. "Please, Missis, de +Orphan medicine, she is not a speck of good." + +Sue added her plea. "No, mother, she is not a speck." + +Mrs. Milo shook her head sadly. "You're not going to help these children +by coddling them," she reminded. And to Ikey, "Let Nature repair the +bruise." She waved all four to go. + +"Out of here, you little rascals!" Sue covered her chagrin by a laugh. +"Oh, you go that way,"--this to Ikey, who was treading too close upon the +heels of the still mourning Clarence. She guided the wounded chorister +toward the Close. + +Ikey took his banishment with a sulky look at Mrs. Milo. "Nature," she +had recommended to him. He did not know any such person, and resented +being turned over to a stranger. + +Mrs. Milo saw the look. "Wait!" And as he halted, "Is that your +handkerchief, Sue?" + +"Why--why--er--I think so." + +"Kindly take it." + +Gently as this was said, it was for Ikey the last straw. As Sue unwound +the square of linen, he emitted a heart-rending "Ow!" and fell to weeping +stormily. "Oh, boo-hoo! Oh! Oh! Oh, dis is wat I gets for singin' in +a Christian choir!" With which stinging rebuke, he fled the drawing-room. + +"Now, Susan." Mrs. Milo folded her hands and regarded her daughter +sorrowfully. + +"Yes, mother?" + +"Haven't I asked you not to allow those boys to call you Momsey?" + +"Yes, mother, but----" + +The white-clad figure in the bay-window stirred, rose, and came forward, +and Hattie ranged herself at Sue's side, the whole movement plainly one +of defense. + +Her bridal raiment afforded Sue an excuse for changing the subject. "Oh, +mother, look! How lovely!" + +"Don't evade my question," chided the elder woman. + +Sue reached for her mother's hand. "Ah, poor little hungry hearts," she +pleaded. "Those boys just long to call somebody mother." + +Mrs. Milo drew her hand free. "Then let them call me mother," she +returned. + +"Hup!" laughed Hattie, hastily averting her face. + +Sue turned to her, mild wonder in her eyes. "Oh, mother's the best +mother in the world," she declared; "--and the sweetest.--And you love +the boys, don't you, dear?" + +Mrs. Milo was watching Hattie's lowered head through narrowed eyes. "I +love them--naturally," she answered, with a note of injury. + +"Of course, you do! You're a true mother. And a true mother loves +anybody's baby. But--the trouble is"--this with a tender +smile--"you--you don't always show them the love in your heart." + +"Well," retorted her mother, "I shan't let them make you +ridiculous.--Momsey!" + +From the Church came the sound of boyish laughter, mingled with snatches +of a hymn. The hymn was Ikey's favorite, and above all the other voices +sounded his-- + + "_O Mutter Dear, Jaru-u-u-usalem----_" + + +Sue turned her head to listen. "They know they've got a right to at +least one parent," she said, almost as if to herself. "Preferably a +mother." + +"But you're an unmarried woman!" + +"Still what difference does that make in----" + +"Please don't argue." + +"No, mother,"--dutifully. + +"To refer to yourself in such a way is most indelicate. Especially +before Hattie." + +There was no dissembling in the look Hattie Balcome gave the older woman. +The young eyes were full of comprehension, and mockery; they said as +plainly as words, "Here is one who knows you for what you are--in spite +of your dainty manners, your gentle voice, your sweet words." Nor could +the girl keep out of her tone something of the dislike and distrust she +felt. "Well, Mrs. Milo!" she exclaimed. "I think it's a terrible pity +that Sue's not a mother." + +"Oh, indeed!"--with quick anger, scarcely restrained. "Well, the subject +is not appropriate to unmarried persons, especially young girls. Let us +drop it." + +"Mother!"--And having diverted Mrs. Milo's resentful stare to herself, +Sue now deliberately swung the possibility of censure her way in order to +protect Hattie. "Mother, shouldn't a woman who hasn't children fill her +arms with the children who haven't mothers? Why shouldn't I mother our +orphan boys and girls?" + +"I repeat: The subject is closed. And when the wedding is over, I don't +want the boys in here again." + +Sue blinked guiltily. "But--er--hasn't Mr. Farvel told you?" + +"Told me what?" + +"Of--of his plan." + +"Plan?" + +"Oh, it's a splendid idea!" + +"Really,"--with fine sarcasm. + +"Every day, five orphans in to dinner." + +Mrs. Milo was aghast. "Dinner? _Here_?" + +"As Ikey says, 'Ve vill eat mit a napkins.'" + +Mrs. Milo could not find words for the counter-arguing of such a +monstrous plan. "But,--but, Sue," she stammered; "they--they're +_natural_!" + +A hearty laugh. "Natural, dear mother? I hope they are." + +"You--know--what--I--mean." + +"Well, I can't tell them from other children with the naked eye. And +they're just as dear and sweet, and just as human--if not a little more +so." + +"You have your duty to the Rectory." + +"But what's this Rectory here for? And the Church, too, for that matter?" + +"For worship." + +"And how better can we worship than----" + +Seeing that she was losing out in the argument, Mrs. Milo now resorted to +personalities. "Darling," she said gently, "do you know that you're +contradicting your mother?" + +"I'm sorry." + +"The children are given food, clothes, and religious instruction." + +"But not love!--Oh, mother, I must say it! We herd them out there in +that great building, just because their fathers and mothers didn't take +out a license to be parents!" + +Shocked, Mrs. Milo stepped back. "My daughter!" + +"Can we punish those poor little souls for that? And, oh, how they'd +relish a taste of home life!" + +Her position decidedly weakened--and that before watchful Hattie--Mrs. +Milo adopted new tactics. "Of course, I have nothing to say," she began. +"I am only here because you hold this secretaryship. You don't have to +make me feel that I'm an intruder, Sue. I feel that sharply enough." +There was a trace of tears in her voice. "But even as an intruder, I +have a certain responsibility toward the Rectory--all the greater, +perhaps, because I'm a guest. Many a day I tire myself out attending to +duties that are not mine. And I do----" She interrupted herself to +point carpet-ward. "Please pick up that needle. Dora must have +overlooked it this morning. What is a needle doing in here? Thank you." +Then as she spied that mocking look in Hattie's eyes once more, "Well, +I'm not going to see the place pulled to pieces!" + +There was scorn written even in Hattie's profile. Sue came quickly to +her mother's defense. "I get mother's viewpoint absolutely," she +declared stoutly. "We've lived here a long time. Naturally, you +see----" Then, with a shake of the head, "But this is Mr. Farvel's home." + +Mrs. Milo laughed--a low, musical, well-bred laugh. "His home?" she +repeated, raising delicate brows. + +"And he can do as he chooses. If we oppose----" + +"I shall oppose." It was said cheerfully. "So let him dismiss you. +I've never touched your father's life insurance, and I can get along +nicely on his pension. And you're a first-class secretary--rector after +rector has said that. So you can easily find another position." + +"You find another job, Sue," interposed Hattie, "and my mother will +invite your mother to Buffalo to live. I'll bequeath my room." She +laughed. + +Mrs. Milo ignored her. "But while I am forced to live here, I shall +protect the Rectory. Furthermore, I shall tell Mr. Farvel so." She +turned toward the library. + +"Oh, mother, no!" Sue followed, and caught at her mother's arm. "Not +today! There's a dear, sweet mother!" + +"Sue!" cried Hattie. Her look questioned the other anxiously. + +But Mrs. Milo felt no concern for the minister. She freed herself from +Sue's hold. "You seem very much worried about him," she returned +jealously, staring at Sue. + +"You think he's unhappy?" persisted Hattie. + +"There!" exclaimed Sue. "You see, mother? Hattie's worried, too. It's +natural, isn't it, Hattie?" + +"Well, it's all nonsense," pronounced Mrs. Milo. "He isn't unhappy. +Wallace has known him longer than we have, and he says Mr. Farvel has +always been like that." + +Sue patted her mother's cheek playfully. "Then let's not make him any +sadder," she said. "Everything must be 'Bless you, my children' around +this place today. We don't want any 'Earth to earth, ashes to ashes.'" +She gave her parent a hearty kiss. + +Mrs. Milo was at once mollified. "I hope," she went on gently, "that Mr. +Farvel didn't have to know why Hattie is being married here instead of in +Buffalo." + +Sue made a comical face. "I explained," she began roguishly, "that the +Rectory is--er--neutral territory." + +"Neutral," repeated Hattie, with a hint of bitterness. + +Once more a jealous light had crept into Mrs. Milo's blue eyes. "Why +should you give Mr. Farvel the confidences of the family?" she demanded. + +"I had to." Sue threw up helpless hands. "Mr. Balcome refused to walk +down the aisle with Mrs. Balcome after the ceremony. That meant no +Church. Then he refused to have her stand beside him in here. But he +can't refuse to gather on the lawn!" + +"Sue," said Hattie, "you have a trusting nature." + +"But what's he afraid of?" Sue asked. "She wouldn't bite him." + +"_Who wouldn't bite who?_" + +The three turned toward the vestibule door. A large person was +entering--a lady, in an elaborate street gown of a somewhat striking +plum-color, crowned by an ample hat with spreading, fern-like plumes. +About her throat was a veritable cascade of white crepe collar; and +against the crepe, carried high, and appearing not unlike a decoration, +was a tiny buff-and-black dog. + +"Ah, my dear!" cried Mrs. Milo, warmly. + +Sue chuckled. "I was just remarking, Mrs. Balcome," she replied, "that +you wouldn't bite Hattie's father." + +Mrs. Balcome, her face dyeing with the effort, set down the tiny dog upon +the cherished Brussels. "Don't be so sure!" she cautioned. She had a +deep voice that rumbled. + +Hattie pointed a finger at Sue. "Ah-h-a-a-a!" she triumphed. + +"Ah-h-a-a-a-a!" mocked her mother. Then coming closer, and looking the +wedding-dress over critically, "Rehearsing, eh, in your wedding-dress! +What would Buffalo think if it saw you!" With which rebuff, she sank, +blowing, upon the couch, and drew Mrs. Milo down beside her. + +"Oh, why didn't you have your parents toss up?" asked Sue. + +"Pitchforks?" inquired Hattie. + +"No! To see which one would be unavoidably called out of town." + +"Oh, I've tried compromise," said the girl, wearily. + +"Well, ABC mediation never was much of a success up around Buffalo," went +on Sue, her eyes twinkling with fun. "Ho-hum! The Secretary of +State"--she indicated herself--"will see what she can do." And strolling +to the sofa, "Mrs. Balcome, hadn't we better talk this rehearsal over +with the head of the house?" + +Mrs. Balcome swept round. "Talk?" she cried. "Talk? Why, I never speak +to him." + +Sue gasped. "Wha-a-at?" + +"Never," confirmed Hattie. "And he never talks to her--except through +me." + +Sue was incredulous. "You mean----" And pantomimed, pointing from an +imaginary speaker to Hattie; from Hattie to a second speaker; then back. + +"Exactly." + +Sue pretended to be overwhelmed. She sank to a chair. "Oh, that sounds +wonderful!" she cried. "I want to try it!" + +"That new job you're looking for," suggested Hattie. "You know I resign +tomorrow." + +Sue rose and struck an absurd attitude. "Behold Susan Milo, the Human +Telephone!" she announced. And to Hattie's mother, "Where is Mr. +Balcome?" + +By now, Mrs. Balcome had entirely recovered her breath. "Where he is," +she answered calmly, "or what he does, is of no importance to me." She +picked at the crepe cascade. + +Sue exchanged a look with her mother. "Well--er--he'll be here?" she +ventured. + +Mrs. Balcome lifted her ample shoulders. "I don't know, and I don't +care." She fell to caressing the dog. + +Sue nodded understandingly to Hattie. "The Secretary of State," she +declared, "is going to have her hands full." Whereupon the two sat down +at either side of the center table, leaned their arms upon it, and gave +themselves up to paroxysms of silent laughter. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Not far away, in an upper room, two men were facing each other across a +table--the wide, heavy work-table of the Rectory "study." The "study" +was a south room, and into it the May sun poured like a warm stream, to +fade further the green of the "cartridge" paper on the walls and the +figures of the "art-square" that covered the floor, and to bring out +with cruel distinctness the quantities of dust that Dora was allowed to +disturb not more frequently than once a week. For the "study" was a +place sacred to the privacy of each succeeding clergyman. And here, +face to face, Alan Farvel and the bridegroom-to-be were ending a long, +grave conversation--a prenuptial conversation invited by the younger +man. + +Wallace Milo was twenty-eight, and over-tall, so that he carried +himself with an almost apologetic drooping stoop, as if he were +conscious of his length and sought to make it less noticeable. It was +an added misfortune in his eyes that he was spare. In sharp contrast +to his sister, he was pale--a paleness accentuated by his dark hair, +which was thick, and slightly curly, and piled itself up in an +unconquerable pompadour that added to his height. Those who saw Mrs. +Milo and Sue together invariably remarked, "Isn't the devotion of +mother and daughter perfectly beautiful!" Just as surely did these +same people observe, when they saw brother and sister side by side, +"There are two children who look as if they aren't even related." + +Alan Farvel, though only a dozen years the senior of Wallace, had the +look and the bearing of a man much older than forty. His face was deep +lined, and his hair was well grayed. But his eyes were young; blue and +smiling, they transformed his whole face. It was as if his face had +registered the responsibilities and worries that his eyes had never +recognized. + +He was speaking. "I know exactly how you feel, Wallace. I think every +decent chap feels like that the day before he marries. He wants to +look back on every year, and search out every mean thought, and every +unworthy action--if there is one. But"--he reached to take the other's +hand--"you needn't be blaming yourself, old man. Ha-ha-a-a! Don't I +know you! Why, bless the ridiculous boy, you couldn't do a downright +bad thing if you wanted to! You're the very soul of honor." + +Wallace got to his feet--started, rather, as if there was something +which Farvel's words had all but driven him to say, but which he was +striving to keep back. Resolutely he looked out of the window, swaying +a little, with one hand holding to the edge of the table so tightly +that his finger-ends were bloodless. + +"The very soul of honor," repeated Farvel, watching the half-averted +face. + +Wallace sank down. "Oh, Alan," he began huskily, "I'll treat her +right--tenderly and--and honorably. I love her--I can't tell you how I +love her." + +Farvel did not speak for a moment. Then, "Everybody loves her," he +said, huskily too. + +"Oh, not the right way--not her parents, I mean. They haven't ever +considered her--you know that. She hasn't had a home--or happiness." +He touched his eyes with the back of a hand. + +"Make her happy." Farvel's voice was deep with feeling. "She's had +all the things money can buy. Now--give her what is priceless." + +"I will! I will!" + +"Faithfulness, and unselfish love, and tenderness when she's ill, +and--best of all, Wallace,--peace. Don't ever let the first +quarrel----" + +"Quarrel!" + +"I fancy most men don't anticipate unpleasantness when they marry. But +this or that turns up and marriage takes forbearance." He rose. "Now, +I've been talking to you as if you were some man I know only +casually--instead of the old fellow who's so near and dear to me. I +know your good heart, your clean soul----" + +Wallace again stood. "Oh, don't think I'm an angel," he plead. +"I--I----" Once more that grip on the table. He shut his jaws tight. +He trembled. + +"Now, this will do," said Farvel, gently. "Come! We'll go down and +see how preparations are going forward. A little work won't be a bad +thing for you today." He gave the younger man a playful pull around +the end of the table. "You know, I find that all bridegrooms get into +a very exaggerated state of self-examination and self-blame just before +they marry. You're running true to form." He took Wallace's arm +affectionately. + +As they entered the drawing-room, Mrs. Milo uprose from the sofa, hands +thrown wide in a quick warning. "Oh, don't bring him in!" she cried, +looking for all the world like an excited figurine. + +"It's bad luck!" chimed in Mrs. Balcome, realizing the state of affairs +without turning. + +The younger women at the table had also risen, and now Hattie came +forward to meet the men, smiling at Farvel, and picking out the +flounces of her gown to invite his approval. + +"Oh, you shouldn't see it till tomorrow," complained Mrs. Milo, +appealing to her son. + +Farvel laughed. "How could it bring anyone bad luck?" he demanded; +"--to see such a picture." He halted, one arm about Wallace's shoulder. + +"Do you like it?" cried Hattie. "Do you really? Oh, I'm glad!" + +Sue, puzzled, was watching Farvel, who seemed so unwontedly +good-spirited, even gay. "Why, Mr. Farvel," she interposed; +"I--I--never thought you noticed clothes--not--not anybody's clothes." +She looked down at her own dress a little ruefully. It was of serge, +dark, neat, but well worn. + +"Well, I don't as a rule," he laughed. "But this creation wouldn't +escape even a blind man." Hands in pockets, and head to one side, he +admired the slowly circling satin-and-tulle. + +Before Sue, on the table, was a morning newspaper; behind her, on the +piano, the vestment which Mrs. Milo had thrown down. Quickly covering +the garment with the paper, Sue caught up both and made toward the hall +door. + +"Susan dear!" Her mother smiled across Mrs. Balcome's trembling +plumes. "Where are you going?" + +"Er--some--some extra chairs," ventured Sue. "I thought--one or +two----" + +Mrs. Milo crossed the room leisurely. The trio absorbed in the +wedding-gown were laughing and chatting together. Mrs. Balcome had +rushed heavily to the bay-window in the wake of the poodle, who, from +the window-seat, was barking, black nose against the glass, at some +venturesome sparrows. Quietly Mrs. Milo took paper and vestment from +Sue and tucked them under an arm. "We have plenty of chairs," she said +sweetly. + +"Yes," assented Sue, obediently; "yes, I--I suppose we have." Her eyes +fell before her mother's look. Again it was as if a small child had +been surprised in naughtiness. + +Now from the Church sounded the voices of the choir. The burring bell +had summoned to more, and still more, practice of tomorrow's music, and +a score of boys, their song coming loud and clear from the near +distance, were rendering the Wedding March from "Lohengrin." + +A curious, and instant, change came over Farvel. His laughter stopped; +he retreated, and fumbled with one hand at his hair. "Oh, +that--that----" he murmured under his breath. + +"Alan!" Wallace went to him. + +"It's nothing," protested Farvel. "Nothing." + +Sue made as if to open the library door. It was plain that, ill or +troubled, Farvel was eager to get away. + +"Wait," said her mother. + +Wallace turned the clergyman toward the door leading to the Church. +"Come, old man," he urged. "Let's go right in. That's best." + +Farvel permitted himself to be half-led. But he paused part way to +look back at the quartette of ladies standing, silent and watchful, at +the center of the room. "It's all right," he assured them, smiling +wanly at Hattie. He tried to speak casually. "Let me know when you're +ready to rehearse." Wallace had reached out to draw Farvel through the +door. It closed behind them. + +Sue made as if to follow the two men. But once more her mother +interposed. "Susan!" And then in explanation, "I wouldn't--they'll +want to be alone." + +Now, as if silenced by an order, the choir stopped in the middle of a +bar. + +"Well!" exclaimed Mrs. Balcome. "Positively tragic!" She gathered up +the dog and sank upon the sofa. + +"Of course, you saw what did it," observed Mrs. Milo. + +"What?" asked Hattie, almost challengingly. + +"The wedding-march." And when that had sunk in, "Wallace knew. Didn't +you hear what he said? He wanted Mr. Farvel to--to conquer +the--the--whatever it was he felt. I'll wager" (Mrs. Milo permitted +herself to "wager" under the stress of excitement, never to "bet") +"that he's broken his engagement, or something of that sort." + +Hattie stared resentfully. + +"Engagement?" repeated Sue. + +Mrs. Milo's blue eyes sparkled with triumph. "Well, it wouldn't +surprise me," she declared. + +Sue's color deepened. "Why, of course, he isn't," she answered +defensively. "He'd say so--he wouldn't keep a matter like that secret. +It isn't like him--a whole year." + +Her mother smiled at her fondly. "There's nothing to get excited +about, my daughter." + +"But, mother, it's absurd." + +Mrs. Milo strolled to a chair and seated herself with elaborate care. +"Well, anyway," she argued, "he carries a girl's picture in his pocket." + +In the pause that followed, a telephone began to ring persistently from +the direction of the library. But Sue seemed not to hear it. "A +picture," she said slowly. And as her mother assented, smiling, +"And--and what did he say when he showed it to you?" + +Mrs. Milo started. "Well,--er--the fact is," she admitted, "he didn't +exactly show it to me." + +"Oh." It was scarcely more than a breath. + +Mrs. Milo tossed her head. "No," she added tartly, a trifle ruffled by +what the low-spoken exclamation so plainly implied. "If you must know, +it fell out of his bureau drawer." + +Mrs. Balcome threw out a plump arm across the bending back of the sofa +and touched a sleeve of the satin gown covertly. "Hm!" she coughed, +with meaning. + +But Hattie only moved aside irritably. Of a sudden, she was strangely +pale. + +Dora entered. "Miss Susan, a telephone summons," she announced. + +"Yes--yes,"--absent-mindedly. + +When she was gone, Mrs. Milo rose and hastened to Dora, who seemed on +guard as she waited, leaned against the library door. "Who is +telephoning?" she asked. + +Dora's eyes narrowed--to hide their smile. "Oh, Mrs. Milo," she +answered, intoning gravely, "the fourth verse, of the thirteenth +chapter--or is it the ninth?--of Isaiah." With face raised, as if she +were still cudgeling her brain, she crossed toward the vestibule. + +"Isaiah--Isaiah," murmured Mrs. Milo. Then, as Dora seemed about to +escape, "Dora!--I wouldn't speak in parables, my child, when there are +others present." She smiled kindly. + +"It is the soloist telephoning," explained Dora; then, so deliberately +as almost to be impudent, "A _girl_." + +Mrs. Milo showed instant relief. "Oh, the soloist! Such a dear girl. +She sang here a year or so ago. Yes,--Miss Crosby." + +Dora out, Mrs. Balcome turned a look of wisdom upon her hostess. "I +see," she insinuated, "that we're very much interested in the new +minister." + +Like that of a startled deer, up came Mrs. Milo's head. "What do you +mean?" she demanded. + +"If he isn't engaged already, prepare for wedding Number Two." + +"_Wedding?_" + +Mrs. Balcome tipped forward bulkily. "Sue," she nodded. + +Mrs. Milo got to her feet. "Sue! What're you talking about? Why, she +never even speaks of marriage." + +"Well, maybe she--thinks." + +"She doesn't think, either. She has her work, and--and her home." +Mrs. Milo was fairly trembling. + +"How do you know she doesn't think? It's perfectly natural." + +"I know. And please don't bring up the subject in her presence." + +"Why, my dear!" chided Mrs. Balcome, amazed at the passion flaming in +the blue eyes. + +"And don't tease her about Mr. Farvel." That voice so habitually well +modulated became suddenly shrill. + +"Don't you like him?"--soothingly. + +"Not well enough to give my daughter to him." + +"Well," simpered Mrs. Balcome, all elephantine playfulness, "we mustn't +expect perfection in our son-in-laws. Though Wallace is +wonderful--isn't he, Hattie?" + +Hattie's back was turned. "I--I suppose so," she answered, low. + +"You suppose so!" Mrs. Balcome was shocked. "I must say, Hattie, +you're taking this whole thing very calmly--very. And right in front +of the boy's mother!" + +"Sue is perfectly contented,"--it was Mrs. Milo once more--"perfectly +happy. And besides, she's a little older than Mr. Farvel." This with +a note of satisfaction. + +Mrs. Balcome stroked the dog. "What's a year or two," she urged. + +"Not in a man's life. But in a woman's, a year is like five--at Sue's +time of life." + +"Those make the happiest kind of marriages," persisted Mrs. Balcome; +"--the very happiest." + +Again Mrs. Milo's voice rose stridently. "Please drop the subject," +she begged. + +Mrs. Balcome struggled up. "Oh, very well. But you know, my dear, +that a woman finds her real happiness in marriage. Because after all +is said and done, marriage----" + +"Mr. John Balcome," announced Dora, appearing from the vestibule. + +As if knocked breathless by a blow, Mrs. Balcome cut short her +sentence, went rigid, and clutched the loose coat of the poodle so +tightly that four short legs stood out stiff, and two small eyes became +mere slits. + +Mrs. Milo met the emergency. "Oh, yes, Dora," she said sweetly; and +flashed her guest a look of warning. + +"Till rehearsal," went on Dora, in a mournful sing-song, "Mr. Balcome +prefers to remain on the sidewalk." + +Mrs. Milo pretended not to understand. "Oh, we don't mind his cigar," +she protested. "Ask him in." And as the girl trailed out, "I do hope +your husband won't say anything to that child. She takes the +Scriptures so--so literally." + +Hattie crossed to her mother. "Shan't I carry Babette upstairs?" she +asked. + +"No!" Mrs. Balcome jerked rudely away. + +"But she annoys father." + +"Why do you think I brought her?" + +"Oh!--Well, in that case, please don't let me interfere." She went +out, banging a door. + +"Now! Now!" pleaded Mrs. Milo, lifting entreating hands. + +Balcome entered. He was a large man, curiously like his wife in type, +for he had the same florid stoutness, the same rather small and pale +eye. His well-worn sack suit hung on him loosely. He carried a large +soft hat in one hand, and with it he continually flopped nervously at a +knee. As he caught sight of the two women, he twisted his face into a +scowl. + +Mrs. Milo, all smiles, and with outstretched hands, floated toward him +in her most graceful manner. "Ah, Brother Balcome!" she cried warmly. + +Balcome halted, seized her left hand, gave it a single shake, dropped +it, and stalked across the drawing-room head in air. "Don't call me +brother," he said crossly. + +Dora, going libraryward, stopped to view him in mingled reproval and +sorrow. + +"Well, what's the matter with you?" he demanded. "Eh? Eh?" + +She shook her head, put her finger-tips together, and directed her gaze +upon the ceiling. "'For ye have need of patience,'" she quoted. + +"Well, of all the impudent----" began Balcome, giving his knee a loud +"whop" with the hat. + +"Hebrews," interrupted Dora; "--Hebrews, tenth chapter, and +thirty-sixth verse." + +Balcome nodded. "I guess you're right," he confided. "Patience. +That's it." And to Mrs. Milo, "Say, when do we rehearse this +tragedy?"--Whereat Dora cupped one hand over her mouth and fled the +room. + +Mrs. Balcome was stung to action. "Hear that!" she cried, appealing to +Mrs. Milo. "A father, of his daughter's wedding!" + +"Oh, sh!" cautioned Mrs. Milo. + +Balcome glared. "Let me tell you this," he went on, as if to the room +in general, "if Hattie's going to act like her mother, she'd better +stop the whole business today." He sat down. + +"Now, Brother Balcome,"--this pleadingly. + +"Don't call me _brother_!" shouted Mr. Balcome. + +That shout, like a shot, brought Mrs. Balcome down. She plumped upon +the sofa. "Oh, now you see what I have to bear!" she wailed. "Now, +you understand! Oh! Oh!" She buried her face in the coat of the +convenient Babette. + +Mrs. Milo hastened to her, soothing, imploring. And Balcome rose, to +pace the floor, flapping at his knee with each step. + +"Now, you see what _I_ have to bear," he mocked. "My only daughter +marries, and her mother brings that hunk of hydrophobia to rehearsal." + +At this critical juncture, with Mrs. Balcome's weeping gaining +in volume, a gay voice sounded from the +library--"Toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot!" The library door +opened, disclosing Sue. She let the doorway frame her, and waited, +inviting attention. She was no longer in her simple work-dress. Silk +and net and lace--this was her bridesmaid's gown. + +Balcome's face widened in a grin. "By Jove, you look fine!" + +"Thanks to you!" + +"Shush! Shush!" He shook hands. "Not married yet?" + +Mrs. Milo, busily engaged in quieting Mrs. Balcome, lifted her head, +but without turning. + +"_I?_" laughed Sue. + +"Understand there's a good-looking parson here." + +A quick smile--toward the door leading to the Church. Sue fell to +arranging her dress. "Mm, yes," she answered, a little +absent-mindedly; "yes, there is--one here." + +"Oh, marry! Marry! Marry!" scolded Mrs. Milo. "I think people are +marry crazy." + +Balcome laughed. "I believe you!--Sue, why don't you capture that +parson?" + +Mrs. Milo rose, taking a peep at the tiny watch hidden under the frill +at a wrist. "Susan," she said sweetly, "will you see what the florist +is doing?" + +"Oh, he's all right, mother dear. He----" + +"Do you want your mother to do it?" + +"Oh, no, mother. No." All gauze and sheen, like a mammoth butterfly, +Sue hurried across the room. + +"I must save my strength for tomorrow," explained Mrs. Milo, and turned +with that benevolent smile. The next moment she flung up her hands. +"Susan!" + +Sue halted. "Ah-ha-a-a-a!" she cried triumphantly. "I thought it'd +surprise you, mother! Isn't it lovely? Isn't it beautiful? Isn't it +an improvement over that old gray satin of mine?" She came back to +stroll to and fro, parading. "As Ikey says, 'Ain't it peaches?'" + +"Tum-tum-tee-tum," hummed Balcome, in an attempt at the wedding-march. + +"Susan! Stop!" ordered Mrs. Milo. "Where, if you please, have you +come by such a dress?" + +Even Mrs. Balcome was listening, having forgotten her own troubles in +the double interest of the promised quarrel and the attractive costume. + +Sue arraigned Mr. Balcome with a finger. "Well, this nice person told +Hattie to order it for me from her dressmaker." + +"To land that parson," added Balcome, wickedly. + +"He gave me two," went on Sue, turning a chin over one shoulder in a +vain attempt to get a glimpse of her back. "The other one is +wonderful! I'm--I'm keeping the other one." + +"'Keeping the other one'?" repeated her mother. + +Sue tried the other shoulder. "Well, I--I might need it for something +special," she explained. + +"Will you please stop that performance?" demanded her mother. "My +daughter, the dress is ridiculous!" + +Sue stared. "Ridiculous?" + +"Showy--loud." + +"But--but it's my bridesmaid's dress." + +"I tell you, it's unsuited--a woman of forty-five! Please go and +change." + +"Oh, come now," put in Balcome, a little sharply. "You never think of +Sue as being forty-five." Then with a large wave of the hand in Sue's +direction, "What do you want to make her feel older than she is for?" + +"I had _no_ such intention," retorted Mrs. Milo, coldly--and +righteously. "On the contrary, I think Susan is well preserved." + +"Preserved!" gasped Sue, both hands to her head. + +"Preserved grandmother!" scoffed Balcome. "Sue looks like a bride +herself. Sue, when that parson gets his eye on you----" + +Mrs. Milo saw herself outdone. Her safety lay in harassing him. +"Speaking of eyes, Mr. Balcome," she said sweetly, "it strikes me that +yours look as if you'd been up all night." + +Mrs. Balcome rose to the stimulus. "Susan!" she summoned. + +"Yes, dear lady?" + +"You will kindly ask my husband----" + +"Go ahead, Mrs. Balcome," invited Sue, resignedly. And, turning an +imaginary handle, "Ting-a-ling-ling!" + +Mrs. Milo, beaming with satisfaction, made her way daintily to the +passage door. "I think I'll call the choir," she observed, and +disappeared. + +Like a war steed pawing the earth with impatient hoof, Mrs. Balcome +tapped the carpet. Her eye was set, her mouth was pursed. Though her +dress was of some soft material, she seemed fairly to bristle. "How +long has Hattie's father been in town?" she demanded. + +"But you don't care," reminded Sue. + +"How long?" persisted the other. + +With comical gravity, Sue turned upon Balcome. "How long has Hattie's +father been in town?" she echoed. And as he held up all the fingers of +one hand, "Oh, two--or three--or four"--a cautious testing of Mrs. +Balcome's temper. + +That lady's ample bosom rose and fell tempestuously. "And I've had +everything to do!" she complained; "--everything! Why haven't we seen +him before?" + +"Mister Man," questioned Sue, "why haven't we seen you before?" + +Balcome rubbed his hands together, chuckling. "Yes, why? Why?" + +"Business, Mrs. Balcome," parried Sue; "--press of business." + +"Business!" cried the elder woman, scornfully. "Huh!--and where is he +staying?" + +"But you said yourself, 'Where he is, or what he does'----" Then as +Mrs. Balcome rotated to stare at her resentfully, "Where is 'he' +staying, Mr. Balcome?" + +"Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" bellowed Balcome. Leaning, he imparted something +to Sue in a whisper. + +"Where?" persisted his wife. + +"He's at the Astor," declared Sue, and was swept with Balcome into a +gale of mirth. + +"Don't treat this as a joke, my dear Susan," warned Mrs. Balcome. + +"Oh, joke, Sue! Joke!" cried Balcome, flapping at Sue with his hat. +"If there's one thing I like to see in a woman it's a sense of humor." + +"Your husband appreciates your sense of humor," chanted Sue, returning +to her telephoning. + +"If there's one thing I like to see in a man," returned Mrs. Balcome, +"it's a sense of decency." + +"Your wife admires your sense of decency," continued the transmitter. + +"She talks about decency"--Balcome spoke confidentially--"and she +brings a pup to rehearsal." + +"She brings a darling doggie to rehearsal," translated Sue. + +By now, Mrs. Balcome was serenity itself. "A pup at rehearsal," she +observed, "is more acceptable than one man I could name." + +"Aw," began Balcome, reaching, as it were, for a suitable retort. + +Sue put up imploring hands. Hattie had just entered, having changed +from her wedding-dress. "Now, wait! This line is busy," she declared. +And to Hattie, "Oh, my dear, why didn't you arrange for two ceremonies!" + +"Do you mean bigamy?" inquired the girl, dryly, aware of the atmosphere +of trouble. + +"I mean one ceremony for father, and one for mother," answered Sue. + +Both belligerents advanced upon her. "Now, Susan," began Mrs. Balcome. +And "Look-a here!" exclaimed Balcome. + +The sad voice of Dora interrupted. From the vestibule she shook a +mournful head in a warning. "Someone is calling," she whispered. +"It's Miss Crosby." + +Like two combatants who have fought a round, the Balcomes parted, +retiring to opposite corners of the room. Dora, having satisfied +herself that quiet reigned, went out. + +Hattie stifled a yawn. "What is Miss Crosby going to sing, Sue?" she +asked indifferently. + +"'O Perfect Love.'" + +Balcome wheeled with a resounding flop of the hat. "O Perfect What?" +he demanded. + +"Love, Mr. Balcome,--L-O-V-E." + +"Ha-a-a!" cried Balcome. "I haven't heard that word in years!" + +Mrs. Balcome, stung again to action, swept forward to a renewed attack. +"He hasn't heard the word in years!" she scolded. And Balcome, +scolding in concert with her, "I don't think I'd recognize it if I saw +it."--"Through whose fault, I'd like to know?"--her voice topped her +husband's. + +"Please!" A changed Sue was speaking now, not playfully or +facetiously, or even patiently: her face was grave, her eyes were +angry. "Mrs. Balcome, kindly take your place in the Close, to the left +of the big door. Mr. Balcome, you will follow the choir." She waved +them out, and they went, both unaccountably meek. Those who knew Sue +Milo seldom saw this phase of her personality. Sue, the yielding, the +loving, the childlike, could, on occasions, shed all her softer +qualities and become, of a sudden, justly vengeful, full of wrath, and +unbending. Even her mother had, at rare intervals, seen this +phenomenon, and felt respect for it. + +Just now, having opened the passage door for the choir, Mrs. Milo had +scented something wrong, and was cautioning the boys in a whisper. +They came by twos across the room, curving their line a little to pass +near to Sue, and looking toward her with troubled eyes. This indeed +was a different Sue, in that strange dress, standing so tensely, with +averted face. + +When the last white gown was gone, Hattie laid her hand on Sue's arm. +"It's all right," she said gently. "Don't you care." + +Sue did not speak or move. + +"Dear Sue," pleaded the girl. + +Sue turned. In her look was pity for all that Hattie had borne of +bitterness and wrangling. And as a mother gathers a stricken child to +her breast, so she drew the other to her. "Oh, Hattie!" she murmured +huskily. "Go--go far. Put it all behind you forever! From now on, +Hattie, they can't hurt you any more--can't torture you any longer. +From now on, happiness, Hattie, happiness!" She dropped her head to +Hattie's shoulder. + +"There! There!" soothed the younger woman, tenderly. Someone was +entering--a girl with a music-roll under an arm. Nodding to the +newcomer, she covered the situation by ostentatiously tidying Sue's +hair. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"Dear Miss Crosby, I'm so glad to see you again!" + +Mrs. Milo came hurrying across the drawing-room to greet the soloist. + +Miss Crosby shook hands heartily. She was smartly dressed in a +wine-colored velveteen, the over-short skirt of which barely reached to +the tops of her freshly whitened spats. Her wide hat was tipped to a +rakish angle. She was young (twenty-eight or thirty at most, but she +looked less) and distinctly pretty. Her features were regular, her +face oval, if too thin--with the thinness of one who is underfed. And +this appearance of being poorly nourished showed in her skin, which was +pallid, except where she had touched it on cheeks and chin with rouge. +A neck a trifle too long and too lean was accentuated by a wide boyish +collar of some starched material. But her eyes were fine--not large, +but dark and lustrous under their black brows and heavy lashes. Worn +in waves that testified to the use of the curling-iron, her yellow hair +was in striking contrast to them. But this bright tint was plainly the +result of bleaching. And both hair and rouge served to emphasize lines +in her face that had not been made by time--lines of want, and +struggle, and suffering; lines of experience. These showed mostly +about her mouth, a thin mouth made more pronounced by the cautious use +of the lip-stick. + +"My dear," beamed Mrs. Milo, "are you singing away as hard as ever?" + +"Oh, I have a great many weddings," declared the other, with a note +that was somewhat bragging. + +Mrs. Milo looked down at the long, slender, ungloved hand still held in +one of hers. "Ah," she went on, playfully teasing, "but I see you're +not always going to sing at other girls' weddings." + +Miss Crosby pulled her hand free, and thrust it behind her among the +folds of her skirt. "Well,--I--I----" She gave a sudden frightened +look around, as if seeking some way of escape. + +Sue was quick to her rescue. "Don't you want to wait with the choir?" +she asked, waving a hand. "--You, too, Hattie." + +Mrs. Milo seemed not to notice the singer's confusion. And when the +latter disappeared with Hattie, she appealed to Sue, beaming with +excitement. "Did you notice?" she asked. "A solitaire! She's engaged +to be married!" + +"Married!" echoed Sue, and shook her head. + +"Oh, yes. You're thinking of the Balconies. Well, now you see why +I've never felt too badly about your not taking the step." + +"You mean that most marriages----?" + +"It's a lottery--a lottery." Mrs. Milo sighed. + +"But your marriage--yours and father's----" + +"My marriage was a great exception--a very great exception." + +"And there's Hattie and Wallace," went on Sue. "Oh, it would be too +terrible----" + +"There are few men as good as my son," said Mrs. Milo, proudly; "--you +darling boy!" For Wallace had entered the room. + +He came to them quickly. His pale face was unwontedly anxious. + +"Is anything wrong?" questioned Sue. + +"No," he declared. But his whole manner belied his words. "Only--only +there'll be a change tomorrow--an outside minister." + +"_What?_" exclaimed Mrs. Milo. And to Sue, "Didn't I tell you!" + +"But if Mr. Farvel doesn't wish to officiate," she argued. + +Her brother caught at the suggestion. "Exactly," he said. "He doesn't +wish." + +"What's the matter with him?" demanded Mrs. Milo, harshly. + +"He has a reason," explained Wallace, in a tone that was meant to cut +off further inquiry. + +"A reason? Indeed! And what is it? Isn't dear Hattie to be +consulted?" + +Wallace put out his hands imploringly. "Hattie won't care," he argued. +"And, oh, mother, let's not worry her about it!" + +Mrs. Milo smiled wisely. "I've always said," she reminded, turning to +Sue, "that there's something about Mr. Farvel that--well----" She +shrugged. + +Wallace's hands were opening and shutting almost convulsively. +"Mother," he begged, "can I see Sue alone?" + +Mrs. Milo's eyes softened with understanding. "My baby, of course." +She kissed him fondly and hurried out to join Mrs. Balcome. His +request was a familiar one. He called upon his sister not infrequently +for financial help, and to his mother it was a point greatly in his +favor that he shrank from asking for money in the presence of any third +person. + +His mother gone, Wallace turned to Sue. She had the same thought +concerning the nature of what was troubling him; for he looked +harassed--worn and pathetically helpless. He was more stooped than +usual. The sight of him touched Sue's heart. + +"Well, old brother," she said tenderly, putting a hand on his arm. "Is +the bridegroom short of cash? Now that would never do. And you know +I'm always ready----" + +"Not that," he answered; "--not this time. I'm all right. It's--Alan." + +"He's not happy!" + +"No." Wallace glanced away. "But it's--it's an old story." + +"Can I help him?" + +He shook his head. "Nobody can do anything. We'll just change +ministers." + +She struggled against the next question. "It's about a--a girl?" + +As if startled, he stared at her. "What makes you say that?" + +"Well, I--I don't know." She laughed a little, embarrassed. "But most +men at his age----" + +"Well, it is about a girl," he admitted. "She disappeared--oh, nine or +ten years ago." + +"I--see." + +"But don't say anything to Hattie about it. She likes Farvel. +And--and she isn't any too enthusiastic about marrying me." + +A smile came back into Sue's gray eyes. "My dear brother!" she +exclaimed. + +"Oh, I'm not blind." + +Sue addressed the room. "Our young mining-engineer," she observed with +mock gravity, "'he is jealousy'." + +Wallace was trembling. "I love her," he said half-brokenly; "I love +her better than anything else in the world! But--but did you see her +look at him? when she had her wedding-dress on, and he and I came in?" + +"Wallace!"--pity and reproval mingled in Sue's tone. Again she laid a +hand on his sleeve. "Oh, don't let doubt or--or anything enter your +heart now--at this wonderful hour of your life--oh, Wallace, when +you're just beginning all your years with her! Your marriage must be +happy! Marriages can be happy--I know it! They're not all like her +mother's. But don't start wrong! Oh, don't start wrong!" There were +tears in her eyes. + +Farvel came in from the Church. He was himself again, and slammed the +door quite cheerily. + +Wallace turned almost as if to intercept him. "I've fixed everything, +old man," he said quickly. "It's all right." + +"But I can officiate as well as not," urged Farvel, passing the younger +man by and coming to Sue. "I don't want you to think I'm notional." + +"She won't," declared Wallace, before Sue could speak. "I've +explained." + +"Ah." Farvel nodded, satisfied. "You--you know, then. Well, I've +always wanted you to know." + +She tried to smile back at him, to find an answer. + +Her brother was urging Farvel to go. "You'll find someone to marry us, +won't you?" he begged. "Right away, Alan?" + +"Oh, I understand," said Farvel. "I'd be a damper, wouldn't I?" + +"Oh, no! Not that!" + +Farvel laid a hand on Wallace's shoulder. "He feels as bad about it as +I do, dear old fellow!" he said. + +The other moved away a step, and as if to take Farvel with him. "Yes, +Alan. Yes. But don't talk about it today. Not today." + +Farvel crossed to the sofa and sat down. "I know," he admitted. "But +today--this wedding--I don't--I can't seem to get her out of my mind." +Then as if moved by a poignant thought, he bent his head and covered +his face with both hands. + +Sue was beside him at once. And dropped to a knee. "Oh, I wish I +could help you," she said comfortingly. + +Farvel did not look up. He began to speak in a muffled voice. "What +did I do to deserve it?" he asked brokenly. "That's what I ask myself. +What did I do?" + +"Nothing!" she answered. "Nothing! Oh, don't blame yourself." Her +hand went up to touch one of his. + +He uncovered his face and looked at her. He seemed to have aged all at +once. "Oh, forgive me," he pleaded. "I don't want to worry you." + +A gasping cry came from a door across the room. Mrs. Milo had entered, +and was standing staring at the two in amazement and anger. "Susan +Milo!" she cried. + +"Oh!" Without rising, Sue began to pick up bits of smilax dropped from +the florist's basket. "Yes, mother?" she replied inquiringly. + +Mrs. Milo hurried forward. "What _are_ you doing on your knees?" + +"Mother dear," returned Sue, "did you ever see anything like smilax to +get all over the place?" Her voice trembled like the voice of a child +caught in wrongdoing. "One little bit here--one little bit there----" + +"Get up," ordered her mother, curtly. And as Sue rose, "What's the +matter with you, Mr. Farvel? Are you sick?" + +"Mother!"--it was a low appeal. + +Farvel rose, a trifle wearily. "No," he answered, meeting the angry +look of the elder woman calmly. "I am not sick." + +Mrs. Milo turned to vent her wrath upon Sue. "I declare I don't know +what to think of you," she scolded. "Down on the carpet, making an +exhibition of yourself!" + +Sue's look beseeched Farvel. "Don't stay for rehearsal," she said. +"Find another clergyman." + +"That's best," he answered; "yes." + +Mrs. Milo broke in upon them, not able to control herself. "Where's +your dignity?" she demanded of Sue. "Acting like a romantic +schoolgirl--a great, overgrown woman." + +Farvel bowed to Sue with formality, ignoring her mother. "You're very +kind," he said. "I'm grateful." With Wallace following, he went out +by the door leading to the Church. + +Instantly Mrs. Milo grew more calm. She seated herself with something +of a judicial air. "Now, what's this all about?" she asked. "You know +that I don't like a mystery." + +Sue came to stand before her mother. And again her attitude was not +that of one woman talking to another, but that of a child, anxious to +excuse a fault. "Well,--well," she began haltingly, "someone he cared +for--disappeared." + +"Cared for," repeated Mrs. Milo, instant relief showing in her tone. +"Ah, indeed! A girl, I suppose?" + +"Y-y-yes." + +Still more pleased, her mother leaned back, smiling. "And she +disappeared, did she? Well, I don't wonder he's so secret about it. +Ha! ha!"--that well-bred, rippling laugh. + +Sue stared down at her. "You mean----" she asked; "you mean----" + +Mrs. Milo lifted her eyebrows. "My daughter," she answered, "don't you +know that there's only one reason why a girl drops out of sight?" + +In amazement Sue fell back a step. "Mother!" she cried. Then turned +abruptly, and went out into the Close. + +Mrs. Milo stood up, on her face conscious guilt for her suspicion and +her lack of charity. But she was appalled--almost stunned. Never in +all her life before had her daughter left her in such a way. "I +declare!" burst forth the elder woman. "I declare!" Then following +Sue a few steps, and calling after her through the open door, "Well, +what fills that basket out there? And what fills our Orphanage?" And +more weakly, but still in an effort to justify herself, "What--what +other reason can you suggest, I'd like to know! And--and it's just +plain, common sense!" She came back to stand alone, staring before +her. Then she sank to a chair. + +Wallace returned. "Where's Sue, mother?" he asked. + +"What?--Oh, it's you, darling? She--she stepped out." + +"Out?" + +"Into the Close." + +"Oh." He hurried across the room. + +Mrs. Milo fluttered to her feet. "I--I can't have that choir in the +library any longer," she declared decisively. And left the room. + +Sue entered in answer to her brother's call, and came straight to him. +She had forgotten her anger by now; her look was anxious. + +"Sue, let's go ahead with the rehearsal," he begged. + +"Wallace,"--she gripped both of his wrists, as if she were determined +to hold him until she had the answers she sought--"you knew her--that +girl?" + +He averted his eyes. "Why, yes." + +She spoke very low. "Was she--sweet?" + +"Yes; sweet,"--with a note of impatience. + +"Light--or dark?" + +"Rather dark." Again he showed irritation. + +"Was she--was she pretty?" + +"She was beautiful." + +Her hands fell. She turned away. "And she dropped right out of his +life," she said, as if to herself. Then coming about suddenly, "Why, +Wallace? You don't know?" + +"I--do--not--know." He dragged at his hair with a nervous hand. + +She lowered her voice again. "Wallace,--she--she didn't have to go?" + +Her brother made a gesture of angry impatience. "Oh, I'm disappointed +in you!" he cried. "I thought you were different from other women. +But you're just as quick to think wrong!" + +She brought her hands together; and a look, wistful and appealing, gave +to her face that curiously childlike expression. "Well, influence of +the basket," she admitted ruefully, and hung her head. + +He thrust his hands into his pockets sulkily, and turned his back. + +Mrs. Balcome came puffing in. "Say, you know dear Babette is getting +very tired," she announced pettishly. "And I wish----" + +As if in answer to her complaining, there came a burst of song. The +library door swung wide. And forward, with serene and uplifted faces, +came the choir, singing the wedding-march. Each cotta swayed in time. + +Balcome and Hattie followed the procession, the former scolding. +"Well, are we rehearsing at last, or what are we doing?" he demanded as +he passed Sue. + +Mrs. Balcome shook with laughter. "Fancy anybody being such a dolt as +to rehearse without a minister!" she scoffed. + +The choir filed out, and their song came floating back from the Close. +Miss Crosby entered and went to Sue. "Miss Milo, don't I sing before +the ceremony?" she asked. + +Sue roused herself with a shake of the head and a helpless laugh. +"Well, you see how much _I_ know about weddings," she answered. "Now, +I'm going to introduce the bridegroom." Wallace was beside Hattie, +leaning over her with anxious devotion, and whispering. Sue pulled at +his sleeve. "Wallace," she said, "you haven't met Miss Crosby." And +to Miss Crosby as he turned, a little annoyed at being interrupted, +"This is the lucky man." + +Miss Crosby's expression was one of polite interest. Wallace, trying +to smile, bowed. Then their eyes met---- + +"A-a-a-aw!" It was a strange, strangling cry--like the terrified cry of +some dumb thing, suddenly cornered. Miss Crosby's mouth opened wide, +her eyes bulged. Upon her dead white face in startling contrast stood +out the three spots of rouge. + +"Laura!" gasped Wallace. + +For a moment they stood thus, facing each other. Then with a rush the +girl went, her arms thrown out as if to fend off any who might seek to +detain her. She pulled the door to the vestibule against herself as if +she were half-blinded, stumbled around it, slammed it shut behind her, +and was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +With Clare Crosby's sudden departure, the group in the Rectory +drawing-room stood in complete silence for a moment, astonished and +staring. Wallace, with his hands to his face, was like a man +half-stunned. + +Outside in the Close, the choir, having come to a halt, was rendering +the Wedding March with great gusto--proof positive that the +choirmaster, at least, made an audience for the twelve. Above the +chorus of young voices pealed that one most perfect--the bird-sweet +voice of Ikey Einstein, devoid of its accent by some queer miracle of +song. It dipped and soared with the melody, as sure and strong and +true as a bugle. + +"Well!" It was Mrs. Milo who spoke first--Mrs. Milo, who could put so +much meaning into a single word. Now she expressed disapproval and +amazement; more: that one exclamatory syllable, as successfully as if +it had been an extended utterance, not only hinted, but openly avowed +her belief in the moral turpitude of the young woman who had just +reeled so blindly through the door. + +"Wallace!" Sue went to her brother. + +"Now, what's the row!" demanded Balcome, irritably, looking around for +his hat, which Hattie had taken from him in order to make him more +presentable for the rehearsal. + +"I suppose _I've_ done something," ventured Mrs. Balcome, plaintively. + +Mrs. Milo hastened to the door leading to the lawn, spied the +choirmaster, waved a wigwag at him with her handkerchief, and shut the +door. The singing stopped. + +She came fluttering back. Always, when something unforeseen and +unpleasant happened, it was Mrs. Milo's habit to accept the occurrence +as aimed purposely at her and her happiness. So now her attitude was +one of patient forbearance. "I told you, Hattie," she reminded; "--bad +luck if Wallace saw you in your wedding-dress today." + +Wallace had slipped to a seat on the sofa, leaning his head on a hand, +and shaking like a man with a chill. Now, at mention of Hattie's name, +he sprang up, went to her, getting between her and his mother, and +putting an arm about the girl as if to protect her. "It has nothing to +do with Hattie," he declared, his eyes blazing. "Nothing, I tell you! +And you're trying to make trouble!" + +"If you please," interrupted Sue, quietly, "you're speaking to your +mother." + +But Mrs. Milo was amply able to take care of herself--by the usual +method of putting any opponent instantly on the defensive. "So it has +nothing to do with Hattie?" she returned. "Well, perhaps it has +something to do with _you_." + +Wallace's tall figure stiffened, as if from an electric shock. His +lips drew back from his clenched teeth in something that was like a +grin. + +Hattie took a long step, freeing herself from his arm. + +"Or perhaps"--Mrs. Milo's glance had traveled to Sue--"perhaps it has +something to do with Mr. Farvel." + +"I won't discuss Alan behind his back," retorted Wallace, hotly. + +"A-a-a-ah!"--this with a gratified nod. She felt that she had forced +the knowledge she wanted, namely that the going of the soloist had +something to do with the clergyman. "Well,"--smiling--"I think I have +an idea." With a beckon to Mrs. Balcome, she made toward the hall. + +Mrs. Balcome came rolling after, the dog worn high against the crepe +cascade. "Perhaps it's just as well that Miss Crosby went," she +observed from the door. "Of course, we could screen her with palms. +But I think she'd take away from Hattie tomorrow. She's _much_ too +pretty--much." + +"Puh!" snorted Balcome. He went to slam the door after her. + +Now, Hattie turned upon Wallace with sudden intensity. "What has Miss +Crosby to do with Mr. Farvel?" she demanded. + +"But does it make any difference, Hattie?" put in Sue, quickly; "--as +long as it isn't your Wallace. It doesn't, of course. Mr. Farvel has +his own personal affairs, and they're no business of ours--none +whatever. Are they? No. And Miss Crosby is charming, and pretty, +and--and sweet." Now she in turn faced round upon her brother. +"But--but what _has_ Miss Crosby to do with Mr. Farvel?" + +"Does it make, any difference to you?" countered Hattie. + +"Of course not, Hattie!--Foolish question nine million and +nine!--Wallace, she's--she's not--the girl? You know." + +He reddened angrily. "She is not!" he exploded. But as Sue, showing +plain distrust in his answer, turned toward the passage as if to go in +search of Farvel, he caught at her arm almost fiercely--and fearfully. +"Oh, no! Not yet!" he begged. "Please, Sue!" + +"I believe he ought to know," she declared. + +"Do you want him to give up this Church?" he cried. And as she came +back slowly, "Oh, trust me, Sue! It's something I can't tell you. But +I'm right about it.--Sh!" For Mrs. Milo had re-entered, on her +countenance unmistakable signs of triumphant pleasure. + +"Ah-ha!" exclaimed that lady, as she hurried forward. "I thought there +was something queer about that Crosby girl!" + +"Why, mother dear!" expostulated Sue. "I've heard you say she was such +a lady--so refined----" + +"Please don't contradict me!" + +"I beg your pardon." + +Mrs. Milo glanced from one to another of the little group, saving her +news, preparing for a good effect. "Mrs. Balcome and I have just +solved the Farvel mystery," she announced. "We looked at that +photograph in the bureau again, and--it's Miss Crosby's picture." + +"Haw-haw!" roared Balcome, with a scornful flop of the hat. + +Sue went close to her brother. "Then she is the girl who disappeared," +she said under her breath. + +"Well--yes." + +"And she'll go again! She'll be lost!" She started toward the hall. + +"Susan!" cried her mother, peremptorily. And as Sue halted, "We want +nothing to do with that girl. Come back." + +"What harm could come of my going?" argued Sue. + +"That is not the question." + +"Mother, I don't like to oppose you, but in this case----" + +"I shall not allow it," said her mother, decisively. + +"Then I must go against your wishes." Sue opened the door. + +"I forbid it, I tell you!" That note of shrillness now appeared in +Mrs. Milo's voice. + +"Oh, mother!" Sue came back a little way. "Don't treat me like a +child!" + +Now Mrs. Milo became all gentleness once more. She put a hand on Sue's +arm. "Your mother is the best judge of your actions," she reminded. +"And she wants you to stay." + +Sue backed. "No; I'm sorry," she answered. "In all my life I can't +remember disobeying you once. But today I must." Again she started. + +"My daughter!" Mrs. Milo's voice broke pathetically. "You--you mean +you won't respect my wishes?" + +Checked by that sign of tears so near, again Sue halted, but without +turning. "I want to help her," she urged, a little doggedly. + +"But your mother," went on Mrs. Milo, "--my feelings--my love--are you +going to trample them under foot?" + +"Oh, not that!" + +Mrs. Milo fell to weeping. "Oh, what do you care for my peace of +mind!" she mourned. "For my heartache!" + +It brought Sue to her mother's side. "Why! Why!" She put an arm +about the elder woman tenderly. + +Mrs. Milo dropped to a chair. "This is the child I bore!" she sobbed. +"I've devoted my whole life to her! And now--oh, if your dear father +knew! If he could only see----" Words failed her. She buried her +face in her handkerchief. + +Sue knelt at her side. "Oh, mother! Mother!" she comforted. "Hush, +dear! Hush!" + +"I'm going to be ill," wept Mrs. Milo. "I know I am! My nerves can't +stand it! But it's just as well"--mournfully. "I'm in your way. I +can see that. And it's t-t-t-time that I died!" She shook +convulsively. + +Commands, arguments, appeals, tears--how often Mrs. Milo and her +daughter went through the several steps of just such a scene as this. +Exactly that often, Sue capitulated, as she capitulated now, with eyes +brimming. + +"Ah, don't say that, mother," she pleaded. "You'll break my heart! +You're my whole life--with Wallace away, why I've got nobody else in +the whole world!" And looking up, "Wallace, you go." + +Instantly Mrs. Milo's weeping quieted. + +"Today?" asked her brother, impatiently. + +"Yes, now! Right away!" Sue got to her feet. + +"Oh, Sue, there's no rush!" + +Mrs. Milo, suddenly dry-eyed, came to her son's rescue. "And why +should Wallace go?" she asked. "Mr. Farvel is the one." + +"No! No!" he cried, scowling at her. "I won't have Alan worried." + +"Mm!" commented Mrs. Milo, ruffled at having her good offices so little +appreciated. "You're very considerate." + +"I understand the matter better than anyone else," he explained, trying +to speak more politely. "Alan can't even bear to talk about it. +So--I'll go." + +Sue turned to Balcome. "And you go with him," she suggested. + +"But why?"--again it was a nervous, frightened protest. + +Sue nodded toward Hattie, standing so slim and still beside her father. +"So my little sister will feel all right about it," she explained. +"Because nothing, Wallace, must worry her. It's her happiness we want +to think of, isn't it?--dear Hattie's." + +"Oh, yes! Yes!" + +"The address--I'll write it down." She bent over the desk. + +Wallace went to Hattie. "Good-by," he said, tremulously. "I'll be +right back." He leaned to kiss her, but she turned her face away. His +lips brushed only her cheek. + +Sue thrust the address into his hand. "Here. And, oh, Wallace, be +very kind to her!" + +"Of course. Yes. I'll do what I can." But he seemed scarcely to know +what he was saying. He fingered the card Sue had given him, and +watched Hattie. + +Urging him toward the vestibule, Sue glanced down at her bridesmaid's +dress, then searchingly about the room--for a hat, a wrap. "And bring +them together--won't you?" she went on, taking Balcome's arm. At the +door, she crowded in front of him. + +"Susan," challenged her mother. + +"Yes, mother,"--coming short, with a whimsically comical look that +acknowledged discovery and defeat. + +"They can find their way out. Come back." + +Sue came. "But I could go with them, and not see Miss Crosby." Once +more that note of childlike pleading. "I could just wait near by." + +"Wait here, Susan.--Oh, I realize that you could be there and back +before I'd know it." + +Sue laughed. "Oh, she's a smart little mother!" she said fondly. +"Yes, she is!" + +"She knows your tricks," retorted Mrs. Milo, wisely. "You'd even +trapse out in that get-up.--Please don't fidget while I'm talking." + +Seeing that it was impossible for her to get away, Sue sat down +resignedly. "Well, as Ikey says," she observed, "'sometimes t'ings go +awful fine, und sometimes she don't.'" + +Now, Farvel came breezing in. "I've found a minister, Miss Milo," he +announced. Then realizing that something untoward had happened, +"Why,--where's Wallace?" + +"He has followed Miss Crosby," answered Mrs. Milo, speaking the name +with exaggerated distinctness. + +"Miss Crosby?" Farvel was puzzled. + +"Miss--_Clare_--Crosby." + +He turned to Sue, and she rose and came to him--smiling, and with a +certain confidential air that was calculated either to rescue him from +a catechism or to result in her own banishment from the room. "Do you +know that you haven't dictated this morning's letters?" she asked. And +touching him on the arm, "Shan't we go into the library now?" + +"Susan," purred Mrs. Milo. + +"Yes, mother." But Sue, halting beside Farvel, continued to talk to +him animatedly, in an undertone. + +"Will you kindly see that Dora understands about dinner preparations?" + +"Hattie, do you mind ringing?" + +Mrs. Milo held up a slender hand to check Hattie. "Susan," she went +on, patiently, "do you want your mother to do the trotting after the +servants?" + +"No, mother. But Mr. Farvel's letters----" + +Now that quick, mechanical smile, and Mrs. Milo tipped her head to one +side as she regarded the clergyman in pretty concern. "Mr. Farvel is +in no mood for dictation," she declared gently; "and--I am quite +exhausted, as you know." But as Sue hurried away, not lifting her +eyes, lest she betray how glad she was to be dismissed, her mother +rose--and there was no appearance of the complained-of exhaustion. Her +eyes shone with eagerness. They fastened themselves on Farvel's face. +"That Miss Crosby," she began; "--she came, recognized Wallace, gave a +cry--and ran." + +Farvel listened politely. Mrs. Milo was so prone to be dramatic. +There was scarcely a day that some warning of Wolf! Wolf! did not ring +through the Rectory. "Well, what seemed to be the matter?" he asked. + +"I thought you might know,"--with just a trace of emphasis on the You. + +"I don't," he assured her, quietly. + +"Then why not go yourself--and get the facts?" + +"Wallace didn't ask me." + +There was something in the tone of his reply that brought the blood to +her cheeks. She replied to it by making her own tone a little chiding. +"But as my boy's oldest friend," she reminded. + +Farvel laughed. "Friend?" he repeated. "He's more like a younger +brother to me. But that doesn't warrant my intruding on him, does it?" + +Mrs. Milo lifted her eyebrows. "I hope," she commented, with something +of that same sorrowful intonation which characterized the speech of +Dora, "--I hope there's no reason why you shouldn't meet this Crosby +girl." + +Farvel stared at her. "I?" he demanded, too astonished by her daring +to be angry. "Why--why----" + +At this juncture the library door opened and Dora entered, to set the +room to rights apparently, for she gave a critical look about, arranged +the writing-desk, and put a chair in place. + +"Dora," said Mrs. Milo, "you saw Miss Susan?" + +Dora lifted pale eyes. "Oh, yes," she answered, "but only a fleeting +glimpse." + +"Glimpse?" repeated Mrs. Milo, startled. + +"From the rear portal"--with an indefinite wave of the hand--"she +turned that way." + +"Oh! She went! To that Crosby girl! And I forbade her!--Mr. Farvel, +come!" + +"But I'm not wanted," urged the clergyman. + +"Why do you hold back? Don't I want you?" + +Farvel pondered a moment, his look on Hattie, standing in the +bay-window, now, alert but motionless. "Well, I'll come," he said at +last. + +"Dora!" cried Mrs. Milo, as she fluttered hallward; "my bonnet!" + +Dora had gone by the same door through which she had come. Hattie and +Farvel were alone. She turned and came to stand beside him. "Why do +you suppose----" she commenced; and then, more bluntly, "What was the +matter with Miss Crosby?" + +Farvel studied her face for a moment, his own full of anxious sympathy. +"I can't imagine," he said, finally; "but whatever it is you may be +sure of one thing--Wallace isn't to blame." + +Hattie's look met his. "It's queer, isn't it?" she said; "but +that--well, that doesn't seem to be troubling me at all." Then for no +reason whatever, she put out her hand. He took it, instantly touched. +Her eyes were glistening with tears. She turned and went out into the +Close. + +Farvel stood for a moment gazing after her. Then remembering his +promise to Mrs. Milo, he hastened in the direction of his study. + +As the hall door shut after him, the library door swung wide, and Dora +came bouncing in, waving an arm joyously. "Your path is clear!" she +announced. + +At her back was Sue, looking properly guilty, and scrambling into a +coat that would hide the bridesmaid's dress. "Just what did you tell +mother?" she inquired. + +"I said you went that way,"--with a jerk of the head that set the tight +braids to bobbing. + +"Oh, what did you tell her that for!" mourned Sue. "It's the way I +must go!" + +"It is the truth," said Dora, solemnly, "and, oh, Miss +Susan,"--chanting--"'a lying tongue is but for a moment.'" + +"I know," answered Sue, exasperated; "'a lying tongue is but for a +moment,' and 'deceitful men shall not live out half their days,' but, +Dora, this is a desperate case. So you find my mother and tell her +that--that I'm probably downstairs in the basement,--er--er--well, I +might be setting the mouse-trap." And giving Dora an encouraging push +in the direction of the hall, Sue disappeared on swift foot into the +vestibule. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Miss Mignon St. Clair was affectionately, and familiarly, known as +Tottie. About thirty, and thus well past the first freshness of youth, +she was one of that great host of women who inadvertently and +pathetically increase the look of bodily and nervous wear and tear by +the exaggerated use of cosmetics--under the comforting delusion that +these have just the opposite effect. With her applications of +liquid-white and liquid-red, Tottie invariably achieved the almost +grotesque appearance of having dressed in the dark. + +In taking as it were a final stand against the passing of her girlhood, +Miss St. Clair had gone further than most. First, in very desperation, +she had colored her graying mouse-tinted hair a glowing red; and then, +as a last resort, had heroically, but with mistaken art, bobbed it. + +The effect, if weird, added to the lady's striking appearance. With +glasses, and an unbelted Mother Hubbard gown made out of antiqued gold +cloth, she might have passed for a habitue of the pseudo-artistic +colony that made its headquarters not far away from her domicile. But +such was her liking for jewelry, and plenty of it, and for gowns not +loose but clinging, that, invariably equipped with an abundant supply +of toothsome gum, she looked less the blue-stocking, or the anarchistic +reformer, than what she aimed to resemble--a flaming-tressed actress +(preferably of the vampire type), a shining "star." + +But such are the tricks of Fate, that Tottie, outwardly and in spirit +the true "artiste," was--as a plain matter of fact--a landlady, who +kept "roomers" at so much per week. + +Her rooming-house was one of those four-story-and-basement +brownstone-front affairs with brownstone steps (and a service-entrance +under the steps) that New York put up by the thousands several decades +ago, and considered fashionable. + +The house, therefore, was like every other house on the block. But to +the observant passerby, one thing identified it. The basements of its +neighbors were given over to various activities--commercial and +otherwise. There were basements that were bakeries, or delicatessen +shops, or dusty second-hand-book stores, or flower stalls. And not a +few were used still for their primary purpose--the housing, more or +less comfortably, of humans. The St. Clair house was distinguished by +the fact that its front room on the basement level (the servants' +living-room of better days) was rented for the accommodation of a +"hand" laundry. + +Often Miss St. Clair felt called upon to apologize for that laundry--at +least to explain its presence. "Some of my friends say, 'Oh, my dear, +a _laundry_!' But as I say, 'You can't put high-class people in the +basement; and high-class people is the only people I'll have around. +Furthermore, I can't leave the basement empty. And ain't cleanyness +next to goodness? And what's cleaner'n a laundry? Besides, it's handy +to have one so close.'" + +The interior of the building was typical. Its front-parlor, the only +room not "let," was high-ceilinged and of itself marked the house as +one that had been pretentious in its day. It boasted the usual +bay-window, a marble fireplace and a fine old chandelier with +drop-crystal ornaments--all these eloquent of the splendor that was +past. Double doors led to the back-parlor, which was the dining-room +of earlier times. + +There was the characteristic hall, with stairs leading down under +stairs that led up, these last to rooms shorn of their former glory, +and now graduated in price, and therefore in importance, first, by +virtue of their outlook--their position as to front or rear; and, +second, in reference to their distance above the street. The front +stairs ended in a newel post that supported a bronze figure holding +aloft a light--a figure grotesquely in contrast to the "hall stand," +with its mirror and its hat hooks and its Japanese umbrella receptacle. + +The pride of Miss St. Clair's heart was that "front-parlor." And upon +it she had "slathered" a goodly sum--with a fond generosity that was +wholly mistaken, since her purchases utterly ruined the artistic value +of whatever the room possessed of good. She had papered its walls in +red (one might have said with the idea of matching the background with +her hair); but the paper bore a conventional pattern--in the same +tone--which was so wrought with circles and letter S's that at a quick +glance the wall seemed fairly to be a-crawl. And she had hung the +bay-window with cheap lace curtains, flanked at either side by other +curtains of a heavy material and a flashy pattern. + +The fireplace had suffered no less than the window. On its mantel was +the desecrating plaster statuette of a diving-girl--tinted in various +pastel shades; this between two vases of paper flowers. And above the +fireplace, against the writhing wall paper, hung a chromo entitled "The +Lorelei"--three maidens divested of apparel as completely as was the +diving-girl, but hedged about by a garish gold frame. + +However, it was in the matter of furniture that Miss St. Clair had +sinned the most. This furniture consisted of one of those +perpetrations, one of those crimes against beauty and comfort, that is +known as a "set." It comprised a "settee," a "rocker," an armchair, +and a chair without arms--all overlaid with a bright green, silky +velour that fiercely fought the red wall paper and the landlady's hair. + +At this hour of the morning, the room was empty, save for a bird and a +rag doll in long dresses. A sash of the bay-window was raised, and the +cheap lace curtains were blowing back before a light breeze. Against +the curtains, swinging high out of the way of the breeze, was a gilded +cage of generous size, holding a green-and-yellow canary. + +The other occupant of the room was propped up carefully on the chair +without arms. To its right, hanging from the chair back, was a little +girl's well-worn coat; to its left, suspended from an elastic, was an +equally shabby hat. And the pitiful condition of doll, coat, and hat +was sharply accentuated by the background of the chair's verdant nap. + +The doll's eyes were shoe buttons, of an ox-blood shade. They stared +redly at the chirping canary. + +The stairs creaked, and a woman came bustling down--a youngish woman +with "rural" written in her over-long, over-full skirt, her bewreathed +straw hat, and her three-quarters coat that testified to faithful +service. Her face showed glad excitement. She pulled on cotton gloves +as she came, and glanced upward over a shoulder. + +"Tottie!--Tottie!" + +"Hoo-hoo!" Miss St. Clair was in a jovial mood. + +"Somebody's at the front door." The velour rocker held a half-dozen +freshly wrapped packages, spoil of an earlier shopping expedition. +Mrs. Colter gathered the packages together. + +The bell began to ring more insistently, and with a certain rhythm. +Tottie came down, in a tea-gown that was well past its prime, and that +held the same relation to her abundant jewelry that marble fireplace +and crystal chandelier sustained to her ornate furniture. "Don't go +for just a minute, Mrs. Colter," she suggested, rotating her +chewing-gum, and adjusting a flowered silk shawl. + +There was a boy at the front door, a capped and uniformed urchin with a +special delivery letter. "Miss Clare Crosby live here?" he inquired. +Behind his back, in his other hand, the butt of a cigarette sent up a +fragrant thread of smoke. + +"You bet,"--and Miss St. Clair relieved him of the letter he proffered. +He went down the steps at an alarming gait, and she came slowly into +the parlor, studying the letter, feeling it inquiringly. + +"I'm goin' to finish my tradin'," informed Mrs. Colter. "It'll be six +months likely before I git down to N'York again." + +"You oughta let Clare know when you're comin'," declared Tottie, +holding the letter up to the light. + +"Oh, well, I won't start home till she gits in. You know there's +trains every hour to Poughkeepsie." Having gathered her bundles +together, Mrs. Colter carried them into the back-parlor. + +Left alone, Tottie lost no further time. To pry the letter open and +unfold it was the swift work of a thumb and finger made dexterous by +long use of the cigarette. "'_Great news, my darling!_'" she read. +"'_The firm says----_'" + +But Mrs. Colter was returning. "I'll be back from the store in no +time," she announced as she came; "only want to git a bon-bon spoon and +a pickle fork." Then calling through the double doors, "Come, Barbara!" + +Tottie, having returned the letter to its envelope and resealed it, now +set it against the diving-girl on the mantelpiece. "What you doin'?" +she inquired; "blowin' the kid's board money?" + +"Board money!" cried Mrs. Colter. "Why, Miss Crosby ain't paid me for +two weeks.--Barbara!" + +"Yes," answered a child's voice. + +"Well, she's behind with me a whole month," returned Tottie, "and you +know I let her have a room here just to be accommodatin'. The stage is +my perfession, Mrs. Colter. Oh, yes, I've played with most all of the +big ones. And as I say, I don't have to take roomers. Why, I rented +this house just so's I could entertain my theatrical friends." + +Mrs. Colter took out and put back her hatpins. "It must be grand to be +a' actress!" she observed longingly. + +"Well, it ain't so bad. For one thing, you can pick a name you like. +Now, I think mine is real swell. 'What'll we call y'?' says my first +manager. Y' see, my own name wouldn't do, specially as I'm a +dancer--Hopwell; ain't that fierce? Tottie Hopwell! I never could +live that down. So I says to him, 'Well, call me Mignon--Mignon St. +Clair.'" + +Mrs. Colter gazed at her hostess wide-eyed. "Oh, it's grand!" she +breathed. "--Barbara, _come_!" + +"I'm coming." + +On flagging feet, the child came out. She was small--not over nine at +the most--with thin little legs, and a figure too slender for her +years. Her dress was a gingham, very much faded. One untied lace of +her patched shoes whipped from side to side as she walked. + +But it was not the poorness of her dress that made her a pathetic +picture as she halted, looking at Mrs. Colter. It was her face--a +grave, little face, thin, and lacking childish color. Upon it were a +few stray, pale freckles. + +Yet it was not a plain face, and about it fell her hair, brown and +abundant, in gleaming curls and waves. Her eyes were lovely--large, +and a dark, almost a purplish, blue. They were wise beyond the age of +their owner, and sad. They told of tears shed, of wordless appeal, but +also of patient endurance of little troubles. Her brows had an upward +turn at the center which gave her a quaint, questioning look. Her +mouth was tucked in at either corner, lending a wistful expression that +was habitual. + +"Barbara, come, hurry," urged Mrs. Colter, holding out the child's hat. + +But Barbara hung back. "Where's Aunt Clare?" she asked. + +"I tell you, Aunt Clare ain't home yet." + +Now, Barbara retreated. "Oh, I want to stay here, to see her. Please, +please." + +"Look how you act!" complained Mrs. Colter, helplessly. + +Tottie came to the rescue. "Say, I'll keep a' eye on the kid." + +"Oh, will you?" cried Mrs. Colter, gratefully. + +"Sure. Leave her." + +"That's mighty nice of you.--And you be a good girl, Barbara." + +"I will," promised the child, settling herself upon the settee with a +happy smile. + +A bell rang. "Ah, there she is now!" exclaimed Mrs. Colter, and as +Barbara sprang up, she ran to her and hastily tidied the gingham dress. + +But Tottie was giving a touch to her appearance at the hall mirror. +"Nope," she declared over a shoulder. "She's got a key." + +Though she heard the bell again, and it was now ringing impatiently, +Mrs. Colter was not convinced. She knelt before Barbara, straightening +a washed-out ribbon that stood up limply above the brown curls. "Now, +come! Quiet!" she admonished. + +Out of the pocket of the gingham, Barbara had brought a small and +withered nosegay. There were asters in it, and a torn and woeful +carnation. "See!" she cried. "I'm going to give Aunt Clare all these." + +Tottie was gone to admit the visitor. Mrs. Colter lowered her voice. +"Yes, honey," she agreed. "And you're goin' to tell your Aunt Clare +what a nice place we've got in Poughkeepsie, and how much you like it, +and----" The outer door had opened. She whispered an added suggestion. + +There was a young man at the front door--a man with a quick, nervous +manner. He wore clothes that were unmistakably English, and +_pince-nez_ from which hung a narrow black ribbon. And he carried a +cane. As he took off his derby to greet the landlady with studied +courtesy, his hair showed sparse across the top of his head. His +mustache worn short, was touched with gray. + +"She's out yodelin' somewheres, Mr. Hull," informed Tottie, filling the +doorway inhospitably, but unconsciously. + +Hull's face fell. "Well,--well, do you mind if I wait for her?" he +asked. + +"Oh, come in. Come in." + +He came, with a stride that was plainly acquired in uniform. His cane +hung smartly on his left arm. He carried his head high. + +It was Tottie's conviction that he was the son of a nobleman--perhaps +even of a duke; and that he was undoubtedly an erstwhile officer in the +King's service. She was respectful to Hull, even a little awe-struck +in his presence. He had a way of looking past her when he spoke, of +treating her as he might an orderly who was making a report. With him, +she always adopted a certain throaty manner of speaking,--a deep, honey +huskiness for which a well-known actress, who was a favorite of hers, +was renowned, and which she had carefully practiced. How many times of +a Sunday, cane in hand, had she seen him come down that street to her +steps, wearing a silk hat. Sometimes for his sake alone she wished +that she could dispense with that laundry. + +"Then she didn't get my letter," said Hull. + +"Can't say," answered Tottie, taking her eyes from the mantelpiece. + +Hull spied the envelope. "No; here it is. You see, I didn't think I +could follow it so soon." + +Mrs. Colter had risen, and was struggling with her veil. + +"Mrs. Colter, this is Miss Crosby's fy-an-see," introduced Tottie. +"And, Barbara, this is goin' to be your Uncle Felix." + +Hull sat, and Barbara came to him, putting out a shy hand. "Ah! So +this is the little niece!" he exclaimed. "Well! Well!--When did you +come down, Mrs. Colter?" + +"Left Poughkeepsie at six-thirty this mornin'. And now I must be +runnin' along--to see if I can find that pickle fork." + +Barbara had been studying the newcomer more frankly. Emboldened by his +smile, she brought forward the nosegay. "See what I've got for Aunt +Clare," she whispered. + +Hull patted the crumpled blossoms. "You're a thoughtful little body," +he declared. And as Mrs. Colter started out, "Could I trouble you, I +wonder?" He got up. "I mean to say, will you buy something for the +little niece?" + +"Oh, ain't that nice of him!" cried Mrs. Colter, appealing to Tottie. + +Hull was going into a pocket to cover his confusion at being praised. +"A--a pinafore, for instance," he suggested, "or a--a----" + +"A coat," pronounced Tottie. "Look at that one! It's fierce!" + +With the grave air of a little old lady, Barbara interposed. "I need +shoes worse," she declared. "See." She put out a foot. + +"Yes, shoes," agreed Hull. He pressed a bill into Mrs. Colter's hand. +There were tears in her mild eyes. She did not trust herself to speak, +but nodded, smiling, and hurried away. He sat again, and drew the +child to him. + +Tottie, leaned against the mantelpiece once more, observed the two with +languid, but not unkindly, interest. "I wonder why the kid's father +and mother don't do more for her," she hazarded. + +Hull frowned. "It makes my blood boil when I think how that precious +pair have loaded the child onto Miss Crosby," he answered. + +"Pretty bony," agreed Tottie. + +"And she's so brave about it--so uncomplaining. Why, any other girl +would have put her niece into an orphanage." + +The rooming-house keeper grinned. "Well, she did think of it," she +said slyly. "But they turned her down. Y' see, Barbara--ain't a' +orphan." + +Now Barbara lifted an eager face. "My mother's in Africa, and my +father's in Africa," she boasted. + +"Out o' sight, pettie, out o' mind." + +Hull took one of the child's hands in both of his. "You've got a +mighty fine auntie, little girl," he said with feeling. "Just the best +auntie in the whole world." + +Barbara nodded. "And I love her," she answered, "best of everybody +'cept my mother." + +Tottie threw up both well-powdered arms. "Hear that!" she cried. +"Except her mother! And Clare says the kid ain't seen the mother since +she was weaned!" + +Hull shook his head. "Isn't it strange!" he mused; "--the difference +between members of the same family! There's one sister, neglecting her +own child--and a sweet child. And here's another sister, bearing the +burden." + +But Barbara was quick to the rescue of the absent parent under +criticism. "Aunt Clare says that some day my mother's coming back from +Africa," she protested. "And then I'm going to be with her all the +time--every day." + +"I s'pose the kid'll live with you and Clare when you marry," ventured +Tottie. + +"No. Clare doesn't want me to have the expense. Says it isn't fair. +But--I'll get in touch with that father." + +Again the child interposed, recognizing the note of threatening. +"Maybe my father won't come with my mother," she declared. "Because he +hunts lions." + +Tottie laughed. "Well, he'd better cut out huntin' lions," she +retorted, "and hunt you some duds." Then to Hull, "I wonder what +they're up to, 'way out there. What is it about 'em that's so secret?" + +"That's not my affair," reminded Hull, bluntly. He got up, dropping +the child's hand. + +Feeling herself dismissed, but scarcely knowing at what or whom this +stranger was directing his ill-temper, Barbara retreated, and to the +doll, sitting starkly upon the green chair. "Come on, Lolly-Poppins," +she whispered tenderly, and taking the doll up in her arms, went back +to the corner of the settee to rock and kiss it, to smooth and caress +it with restless little hands. + +Tottie sidled over to Hull, lowering her voice against the child's +overhearing her. "Y' know what _I_ think?" she demanded. + +"What?" + +"I think the pair of 'em is in j-a-l-e,"--she spelled the word behind a +guarding hand. + +Hull ignored the assertion. "Where is Miss Crosby singing today?" he +asked curtly. + +Tottie went back to the hearth. "Search me," she declared. "It looks +like your future bride, Mr. Hull, don't tell nobody nothin'. What's +_your_ news?" + +Barbara had settled down, Lolly-Poppins in the clasp of both arms. She +crooned to the doll, her eyes closed. + +"Oh, I haven't any," answered Hull. Then more cordially, "But I got a +raise today." + +"Grand! The Northrups, ain't it?" + +"Chemists," said Hull, going to look out of the window. + +"Well, money's your friend," declared Tottie, philosophically. "Me for +it!" + +A door-latch clicked. Someone had entered the hall. + +"That's her!" + +"Don't tell her Barbara's here. It'll be a jolly surprise." + +Tottie agreed, and with a quick movement caught the silk shawl from her +own shoulders and covered the child. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Clare ran all the way, with scared eyes, and heaving breast, and a hand +clutching the rim of the tilted hat. And only when she reached the +corner nearest home did she slow a little, to look behind her as if she +feared pursuit. Then finding herself breathless, she stepped aside for +a moment into the entrance of an apartment house, and there, under the +suspicious watch of a negro elevator boy, pretended to hunt for +something in her music-roll. + +As she waited, she remembered that there was some laundry due her in +the basement. That must be collected. She walked on, having taken a +second look around, and darted under the front steps to make her +inquiry. She promised to call for the articles in ten minutes by way +of the back stairs; then slowly ascended the brownstone steps, glancing +up the street as she climbed, but as indifferently as possible. + +Once inside the storm door, she listened. Someone might be +telephoning--they knew her number at the Rectory. Or Tottie might have +a visitor, which would interfere with plans. + +She heard no sound. Letting herself in noiselessly, she tiptoed to the +parlor door and opened it softly. + +"Hello-o-o-o!" It was Hull, laughing at the surprise they had for her. + +"Felix!" She halted, aghast. + +"Well, aren't you glad to see me?" + +"Oh, yes! Yes!"--but her face belied her. She tugged at her hat, +seeking, even in her nervousness, to adjust it becomingly. + +"What're y' pussy-footin' around here for?" questioned Tottie, sharply. + +"I'm not.--Tottie, can I see Mr. Hull alone?" + +"Sure, dearie. As I say, don't never git your ear full of other +folks's troubles--_and_ secrets." She went out, with a backward look +at once crafty and resentful. + +With a quick warning sign to Hull, Clare ran to the door, bent to +listen a moment, holding her breath, then ran to him, leading him +toward the window. "Felix," she began, "go back to Northrups. I'll +'phone you in an hour." + +He had been watching her anxiously. "What is it? Something wrong?" + +"Yes! Yes! My--my brother and sister--in Africa." She got his hat +from where he had laid it on the rocker. + +"In trouble?" he persisted, studying her narrowly. + +"Yes,--in trouble. And I don't want to see any reporters--not one!" + +"That's all right"--he spoke very gently--"I'll see them." + +Her face whitened. "Oh, no! There isn't anything to say. Felix, I'll +just leave here, and they won't be able to find me. And you go +now----" She urged him toward the door. + +He stood his ground. "You're not giving me the straight of this," he +asserted, suddenly severe. + +"I am, I tell you! I am!" Her face drew into lines of suffering. She +entreated him, clasping his arm with her trembling hands. + +He freed himself from her hold. "If I thought you were lying----" +Then, roughly, "I hate a liar!" + +"Oh, but I'm not lying! Honest I'm not! Oh, believe me, and +go!--Felix!" + +He forbore looking at her. "Very well," he said coldly, and started +out. + +She followed him to the door. "And don't come back here, will you? +Promise you won't!" + +"I shan't come back," he promised. + +"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Then in tearful appeal, seeing his +displeasure, "Oh, Felix, I love you!" The poignancy of her cry made +him relent suddenly, and turn. He put an arm about her, and she clung +to him wildly. "Oh, Felix, trust me! Oh, you're all I've got!" + +"But there's something I don't understand about this," he reminded more +kindly. + +"I'll explain later. I will! You'll hear from me soon." + +Again he drew away from her. "Just as you say,"--resentfully. + +The front door shut behind him, Clare called up the stairs. "Tottie! +Tottie!" She listened, a hand pressing her bosom. + +"A-a-a-all right!" + +Clare did not wait. Running back into the front-parlor, she stood on a +chair in the bay-window, and worked at the hook holding the bird-cage. +"Well, precious!" she crooned. "Missy's little friend! Her darling +pet! Her love-bird! How's the sweet baby?" The cage released, she +stepped down and hurried across the room.' + +"Aunt Clare!"--first the clear, glad cry; next, a head all tumbled +curls. + +"Barbara!" Clare came short. Then, as Tottie sauntered in, "Oh, +what's this young one doing here?" + +Barbara had risen, discarding the doll and the shawl, and gone to +Clare. Now, feeling herself rebuffed, she went back to the settee, +watching Clare anxiously. + +"Waitin' for you," answered Tottie, taking up her shawl. + +"Aunt Clare!" pleaded the child, softly. + +"Oh! Oh!" mourned Clare. She set the cage on the table. + +Barbara bethought herself of the gift. Out of the sagging pocket of +the gingham, she produced the tightly-made bouquet. "See!" she cried, +holding out the flowers with a smile. "For you, Aunt Clare!" + +But Clare brushed them aside, and fetched the child's hat. "Where's +that Colter woman?" she demanded angrily. + +Tottie lolled against the mantel, studying Clare and enjoying her gum. +"Huntin' pickle forks," she replied. + +"Aunt Clare!" insisted Barbara, again proffering the drooping nosegay. + +"Here! Put this on!"--it was the coat. Clare took one small arm and +directed it into a sleeve. + +"Do I have to go?" asked Barbara, plaintively. + +"Now don't make a fuss!"--crossly. "Stand still!" Then taking the +bouquet away and letting it drop to the floor, "Here! Here's the other +sleeve." The coat went on. + +"Are you coming with me?" persisted Barbara, brightened by the thought. + +But Clare did not heed. "When'll she be back?" She avoided looking at +Tottie. "--Let me button you, will you?"--this with an impatient tug +at the coat. + +"Can't say," answered Tottie, with exasperating indifference. + +"Tottie, I'm going to move." + +At that, the landlady started, suddenly concerned. "Move?" she echoed +incredulously. + +Clare ran to a sewing-machine that stood against the wall behind the +settee. "Today," she added; "--now." + +"Where you goin'?" + +"To--to Jersey." + +Barbara, coated and hatted, and with Lolly-Poppins firmly clasped in +her arms, followed the younger woman. "Aunt Clare----" + +"Jersey!" scoffed Tottie. "You sure don't mean Jersey _City_." + +Clare covered her confusion by hunting among the unfinished work on the +machine. "Yes,--Jersey City," she challenged. + +Tottie's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Must be pretty bad," she +observed. "Pretty bad." + +Barbara, planted squarely in Clare's path, again importuned. "Am I +going too, Aunt Clare?" + +"No! Sit down! And keep _quiet_!" + +The child obeyed. There was comfort in Lolly-Poppins. She lifted the +doll to her breast, mothering it. + +"What's happened, pettie?" inquired Tottie. + +"Nothing--nothing." Clare folded a garment. + +"Nothin'--but you're movin' to Jersey City.--Ha!" + +"Well, most of my singing is across the River now, so it's more +convenient." + +"Mm!"--it implied satisfaction. Then carelessly, "Say, here's a letter +for you." And as Clare took it, tearing it open, "Glad nothin' 's gone +wrong.--Is that good news?" + +Clare thrust the letter into her dress. "Oh, just another singing +engagement," she answered. And went back to the heap of muslin on the +sewing-machine. + +Tottie's face reddened beyond the circumference of her rouge spots. +She took a long step in Clare's direction, and laid a hand on her arm. +"Now, look here!" she said threateningly. "You're lyin' about this +move!" + +"I'm not! I'm not!" + +"Somebody's been knockin' me." + +"No. Nonsense!" Clare tried to free her arm. + +But Tottie only held her the tighter. "Then why are you goin'?" + +"I've told you.--Please, Tottie!" Again she strove to loosen the +other's grip, seeing which Barbara, fearing for her Aunt Clare, cast +aside her doll and ran to stand beside the younger woman, trembling a +little, and ready to burst into tears. + +"Aw, you can't fool me!" declared Tottie. + +"I don't want to!" + +Tottie thrust her face close to Clare's. "You've got your marchin' +orders!" + +"What do you--you mean?" The other choked; her look wavered. + +"You're on the run." + +"I am not! No!" + +Tottie's voice lowered, losing its harshness, and took on a wheedling +tone. "But you never have to run," she informed slyly, "if you've got +the goods on somebody." She winked. + +"I--I haven't." + +"Stick--and fight--and _cash in_." + +"Tottie!" Clare stared, appalled. + +"O-o-o-oh!"--sneeringly. "Pullin' the goody-goody stuff, eh?" + +"Let me go! Let me go!" + +"Auntie Clare!" With the cry of fear, Barbara came between them, +catching at the elder woman's arm. + +Tottie loosed her hold and went back to the mantel to lean and look. +Clare drew out a drawer of the small center-table, searched it, and +laid a hand-mirror beside the cage. + +"What'll be your new address?" + +"I'll send it to you." + +The landlady began to whine. "Ain't that just my rotten luck! Another +room empty!--you know you oughta give me a week's notice." + +"Oh, I'll pay you for it," answered Clare, bitterly. + +"Well, I don't want to gouge you, dearie. And I don't know what I'll +do when you're gone. I've just learned to love you.--And with summer +comin' on, goodness knows how I'm goin' to rent that back-parlor. It's +hard to run a respectable house and keep it full. Now as I say, if I +was careless, I----" + +But what Miss St. Clair might have been moved to do under such +conditions was not forthcoming, for now steps were heard, climbing to +the front door. Next, a man's voice spoke. Then the bell rang. + +"Wait! Wait!" As she warned Tottie, Clare crossed to the bay-window +at a run. + +"Maybe here's a new roomer," suggested the hopeful landlady. + +But Clare had pressed aside the heavy curtain framing the window until +she could command the stoop. Two men were waiting there. "Oh!" she +breathed, almost reeling back upon Tottie. "Oh, don't let 'em in! +Don't! I can't see anybody! Say I'm gone! Oh, please, Tottie! I'm +gone for good." She was beside Barbara again, and was almost lifting +the child from the floor by an arm. Then she reached for the bird-cage. + +"Friends of yours?" questioned Tottie. She also peeked out. + +"No! No!"--and to Barbara, "Come! Don't you speak! Don't open your +mouth! Not a word!" Taking the child with her, she fled into her own +room, closing the door. + +The bell rang again, but Tottie took her time. Going to the fireplace, +she turned "The Lorelei" to the wall; then slipping the shawl from her +shoulders, she draped it carelessly over the plaster statuette of the +diving-girl. After which she stepped back, appraised the effect, and +went to open the front door to a large, ill-tempered man in a loose +sack suit, and a young man, tall and white to ghastliness, whose +nostrils quivered and whose mouth was scarcely more than a blue line. + +"Good-morning," began Balcome, entering without being asked. + +"Won't you step in?" begged Tottie, pointedly. + +The door to the back-parlor had opened to a crack. And a face +distorted with fear looked through the narrow opening. Clare heard the +invitation, and the entering men. She shut the door softly. + +Tottie followed her visitors. This was a transformed Tottie--all airs +and graces, with just the touch of the dramatic that might be expected +from a great "star." Indeed, she paused a moment, framed by the +doorway, and waited before delivering her accustomed preamble. She +smiled at the elder man, who returned a scowl. She bestowed a brighter +smile on Wallace, who failed to see it, but licked at his lips, and +smoothed his throat, like a man suddenly gone dry. Then she entered, +slowly, gracefully, allowing the teagown to trail. + +"As I say," she began, turning her head from side to side with what was +intended to be a pretty movement, "--as I say, it's a real joy to room +your theatrical friends. Because they fetch y' such swell callers." + +Balcome, with no interest in this information, aimed toward Wallace a +gesture that was meant to start the matter in hand. + +Wallace rallied his wits. "Is Miss--er--Crosby at home?" he asked. + +"Miss Crosby," repeated Tottie, with her very best honey-huskiness; +"oh, she don't rent here no more." + +He reddened in an excess of relief. + +"She don't?" mocked Balcome, glaring at the teagown. + +"Nope," went on the landlady, mistaking his attention for a compliment, +and simpering a little, with a quick fluttering of her lids; "took all +her stuff.--Hm!" Now she let her eyes play side-wise, toward that +double door behind Balcome. + +He took the hint. "I see." + +"And, oh, I'm goin' to miss her! Her first name bein' Clare, and my +last name bein' St. Clair, I always feel, somehow, that she's a sorta +relation." + +Balcome went nearer to the double door. "And you don't know where +she's living now?" He raised his voice a little. Then with Wallace +gaping in amazement, he put a hand into a pocket and brought out +several bills. He gave these a flirtatious wave before Tottie's eyes. +"You don't know?" + +"Say, y' don't expect me to tell y', do y'?" she inquired, also raising +her voice. Those eyes sparkled with greed. + +"Of course I expect you to tell me," Balcome mocked again, sliding the +bills into a coat pocket. + +"Well, she didn't leave her new address." Out came a beringed hand. + +"Didn't she?" Once more Balcome displayed the money. + +"No, she said she'd send it." Then pointing toward the double door, +her fingers closed on the bribe. + +Wallace gulped, looking about him at the carpet, like a creature in +misery that would lie down. + +Balcome was taking a turn about the room. "So she's gone," he said. +"Too bad! Too bad! And no address." Presently, as he came close to +the door again, he gave one half of it a sudden, wrenching pull. It +opened, and disclosed Clare, crouched to listen, one knee on the floor. + +"No! Don't!" It was Tottie, pretending to interfere. + +"O-o-oh!" Clare scrambled to her feet. But contrary to what might +have been expected, she almost hurled herself into the room, shut the +door at her back, and stood against it. + +Tottie addressed herself angrily to Balcome. "Say, look-a here! This +ain't the way out!" + +"My mistake," apologized Balcome. Then with a look at Wallace that was +full of meaning, he retired to the hearth, planted his shoulders +against the mantel at Tottie's favorite vantage point, and surveyed +Clare. "We thought you were gone," he remarked good-naturedly. He +bobbed at her, with a flop of the big hat against his leg. + +She made no reply, only waited, breathing hard, her eyes now on +Wallace, now on Tottie. To the former, her glance was a warning. + +He understood. "We'd--we'd like to see Miss Crosby alone," he said +curtly, for by another wave of the hat Balcome had given him the +initiative. + +"Yes--go, Tottie." + +Miss St. Clair turned, her gown trailing luxuriously. "I seem to be in +the way today," she laughed, with an attempt at coquetry. Then to +Clare, "I'm your friend, pettie. If you need me----" + +The younger man could no longer contain himself. "Oh, she told us you +were here!" he cried. + +"Tottie!" + +"It's a lie!--a lie!" She swept past him, her face ugly with +resentment. And to Clare, "Don't you let this feller put anything over +on you, kid." + +"All right, madam! All right!" Wallace's fingers twitched. He was +ready to thrust her from the room. + +She went, with a backward look intended to reduce him; and shut the +door. As he followed, opening the door to find that she was actually +gone, and leaning out to see her whereabouts farther along the hall, +she broke into a raucous laugh. + +"Rubber!" she taunted. "Rubber!" + +When he had shut the door again, and faced about, he kept hold of the +knob, as if supported by it. "I--I felt you'd like to know, Miss +Crosby," he commenced, forcing himself to speak evenly, "that Mr. +Farvel is over there at the Rectory." + +"Oh!" She put a hand to her head, waited a moment, then--"I--I +thought--maybe when--I saw you." + +"I knew that was why you left." He was more at ease now, and came +toward her. "Do you want to see him?" + +"No! No!" She put out both hands, pleadingly. "I don't want anything +to do with him! I don't want him to know I'm in New York. Promise me! +Promise!" + +Wallace looked down. "Well,--it isn't my affair," he said slowly. + +Mrs. Colter bustled in, a package swinging from one hand by a holder. +"Oh, excuse me!" she begged, coming short. + +Clare ran to her in a panic. "Oh, go! Go!" she ordered almost +fiercely. "Go home! Don't wait! Hurry!" Then as Mrs. Colter, scared +and bewildered, attempted to pass, "No! Go 'round! Go 'round!" + +"Yes," faltered the other, dropping and picking up her bundle as Clare +shoved her hallward; "yes." She fled. + +"Close the door!" cried Clare. And as Wallace obeyed, she again went +to stand against the panels of the double door. She seemed in a very +fever of anxiety. "Please go now, Wallace," she begged. "Please! I'm +much obliged to you for coming. It was kind. But if you'll go----" +Her voice broke hysterically. + +He glanced at Balcome, and the elder man nodded in acquiescence. +"We'll go," said Wallace. "I'm glad to have seen you again." He moved +away, and Balcome went with him. "But I hoped I could do something for +you----" + +"There's nothing,"--eagerly. "If you'll just go." + +"Well, good-by, then." + +"Good-by. Good-by, Mr. Balcome." + +"Good-by," grumbled Balcome. + +Wallace's hand was on the knob when a child's voice piped up from +beyond the door--a voice ready to tremble into tears, and full of +pleading. "But I want to kiss her," it cried. + +Clare fairly threw herself forward to keep the two men from leaving. +"Wait! Wait!" she implored in a whisper. + +"She's busy, I tell you!"--it was Mrs. Colter. "Now come along." + +Something brushed the outer panels; then, "Good-by, Aunt Clare!" piped +the little voice again. + +"Come! Come!" scolded Mrs. Colter. + +Now a sound of weeping, and whispers--Mrs. Colter entreating obedience, +and making promises; next, a choking final farewell--"Good-by, Aunt +Clare!" + +"Good-by," answered Clare, hollowly. + +As the weeping grew louder, and the outer door shut, Wallace went +toward the bay-window, slowly, as if drawn by a force he could not +master. He put a shaking hand to a curtain and moved it aside a space. +Then leaning, he stared out at the sobbing child descending the steps. + +When he turned his face was a dead white. His look questioned Clare in +agony. "Who---- That--that--your niece?" he stammered. + +"She's my sister's little girl," answered Clare, almost glibly. She +was recovering her composure, now that Barbara was out of the house. + +"A-a-ah!" Wallace took out a handkerchief and wiped at his face. Then +without looking at Clare, "Isn't there something I can do for you?" + +"No. No, thank you. I've got relatives here with me. I'm all right." +She took a chair by the table, and began to play with the mirror, by +turns blowing on it, and polishing it against the folds of her dress. + +He watched her in silence for a moment. It was plain that she was +anxious to detain them until she felt certain that the child had left +the block and was out of sight. He helped her plan. Standing between +them, Balcome vaguely sensed that they had an understanding and +resented it. His under lip pushed out belligerently. + +"I wish you'd let me know if there is anything," said the younger man, +his tone conventionally polite. + +"Yes. I'll--I'll write." She controlled a sarcastic smile. + +"In care of the Rectory," he directed. "Will you? I want to help you +in any way I can. I mean it." + +Now Clare rose. "Good-by," she said pleasantly. "I'm sorry I rushed +out the way I did today. But--you understand." She extended a hand. + +"Of course," he answered, scarcely touching the tips of her fingers. +"Yes." + +"I wish you the best of luck." She bowed, and again to Balcome. + +Balcome returned the bow sulkily. And turning his back as if to leave, +gave a quick glance round in time to see her make the other a warning +sign. + +At this juncture, the hall door swung wide, and Tottie appeared, head +high with suppressed excitement, and face alive with curiosity. +"Here's another caller, Miss Crosby," she announced. At her back was +Sue. + +Clare retreated, frowning. + +Sue, breathless from hurrying, and embarrassed, halted, panting and +smiling, in the doorway. "Oh, dear! This dress never was meant for +anything faster than a wedding-march!"--this with that characteristic +look--the look of a child discovered in naughtiness, and entreating +forgiveness. + +"Say, ain't you pop'lar!" broke in Tottie, shaking her head at Clare in +playful envy. And to Sue, "Y' know, all my theatrical friends 're just +crazy about her. They'll hate to see her go." + +"Go?" repeated Sue, sobering. + +"Tottie!" cried Clare, angrily. "Please! Never mind!" Peremptorily +she pointed her to leave. + +Tottie, having accomplished her purpose, grinned a good-natured assent. +"All right, dearie,"--once more she was playing the fine lady, for the +edification of this new arrival so well worth impressing. "I call this +my rehearsal room," she informed, with a polite titter. "Pretty idea, +ain't it? Well,"--with a sweeping bow all around--"make yourselves to +home." She went out, one jeweled hand raised ostentatiously to her +back hair. + +There was a moment's pause; then Sue held out an impulsive hand to the +younger woman. "Oh, you're not going to leave without seeing him," she +implored. + +"Who do you mean?"--sullenly. + +"Alan Farvel." + +Clare's eyes flashed. "Does he know you came?" + +"No." + +Clare turned to Wallace. "Does your sister know my real name?" she +asked. + +His pale face worked in a spasm. He coughed and swallowed. "N-n-no," +he stammered. + +"Now--just--wait--a--minute!" It was Balcome. He approached near +enough to Wallace to slap him smartly on the shoulder with the hat. +"You--told--me----" + +"What does it matter?" argued the other. "One name's as good as +another." + +Balcome said no more. But he exchanged a look with Sue. + +She glanced from Clare to Wallace, puzzled and troubled. Then, +"I--I--don't know what this is all about," she ventured, "and I don't +want to know. I just want to tell you, Miss Crosby, that--that he +grieves for you--terribly. Oh, see him again! Forgive him if he's +done anything! Give him another chance!" + +"You're talking about something you don't understand," answered Clare, +rudely. + +Sue shook her head. "Well, I think I know a broken heart when I see +one," she returned simply. + +To that, Clare made no reply. "These gentlemen are going," she said. +"And I wish you'd go too." + +"Then I can't help him--and you?" + +In sudden rage, Clare came toward her, voice raised almost to a shout. +"Help! Help! Help!" she mocked. "I don't want help! I want to be +let alone!--And I can't waste any more time. You'll have to excuse +me!" She faced about abruptly and disappeared into her own room, +banging the door. + +Sue lowered her head, and knitted her brows in a look of defeat that +was almost comical. "Well," she observed presently, "as Ikey says, +'Always you can't do it.'" + +Seeing the way clear for himself, her brother's attitude became more +sure. "I'm afraid you've only made things worse," he declared. + +Balcome flapped his hat. "We had her in pretty good temper--for a +woman." + +Thus championed, the younger man grew even bolder. "And I thought you +were going to keep out of this," he went on; "you promised mother----" + +Now of a sudden, Sue lost that manner at once apologetic and childlike. +"When did you know Miss Crosby?" she demanded of Wallace, sharply. +"How long ago?" + +"The year I met Alan.--I was eighteen." + +"And _you_ didn't have anything to do with this trouble? You're not +responsible in any way?" + +"Now why are you coming at me?" expostulated her brother. There was an +unpleasant whine in his voice. + +But Balcome failed to note it. "By golly!" he complained. "Women are +all alike!" + +"I'm coming at you," explained Sue, "because I know Alan Farvel. And I +don't believe he could do any woman such a hurt that she wouldn't want +to see him again, or forgive him. That's why." + +"But you think _I_ could! I must say, you're a nice sister!" + +"_I_ must say that your whole attitude today has been curious, to put +it mildly." + +"If I don't satisfy your woman's curiosity, you get even by putting me +in the wrong." Again there was that unpleasant whine. + +"No. But Mr. Farvel was relieved when he thought you had told me about +this matter. And the fact is, you haven't told me at all." + +He was cornered. His tall figure sagged. And his eyes fell before his +sister's. "I--I," he began. Then in an outburst, "It's Hattie I'm +thinking of! Hattie!" + +"Ah, as if _I_ don't think of Hattie!" Sue's voice trembled. "I want +to think you've had nothing to do with this. I couldn't bear it if +anything hurt her--her happiness--with you." + +Outside, the stairs creaked heavily. Then sounded a _bang, bang,_ as +of some heavy thing falling. Next came Tottie's voice, shrill, and +strangely triumphant: "Hey there! You're tryin' to sneak! Yes, you +are! And you haven't paid me!" + +Sue understood. She opened the hall door, and took her place beside +Clare as if to defend her. The latter could not speak, but stood, a +pathetic figure, holding to a suitcase with one hand, and with the +other carrying the bird-cage. + +"Get back in there!" ordered Tottie, beginning to descend from the +upper landing. + +Clare obeyed, Sue helping her with the suitcase. "I'll send the +money," she pleaded. "I--I meant to. Oh, Tottie!" + +Tottie was down by now, scowling and nursing a foot, for she had +slipped. She made "shooing" gestures at Clare. + +"How much does Miss Crosby owe you?" asked Sue, getting between Clare +and the landlady. + +"Sixteen dollars--and some telephone calls." + +"Let me----" It was Wallace. He ran a hand into a pocket. + +Sue warned him with a look. "Mr. Balcome will lend it," she said. + +Balcome did not wait to be asked. From an inside coat pocket he +produced a black wallet fat with bills, and pulled away the rubber band +that circled it. + +Tottie viewed the wallet with greedy eyes. "And there's some laundry," +she supplemented; "and Mrs. Colter's lunch today--just before you come +in, Clare,--and Barbara's." + +Clare implored her to stop by a gesture. "Twenty," she said to +Balcome. "I'll pay it back." + +Sue took the bills that Balcome held out, and gave them to Tottie. +"Keep the change," she suggested, anxious to get the woman away. + +Tottie recovered her best air. "Wouldn't mention such small items," +she explained, "but it's been a bad season, and I haven't had one +engagement--not one. As I say,----" + +"Don't apologize. I can tell a generous woman when I see one." This +with a hearty smile. + +Tottie simpered, shoved the money under the lace of her bodice, and +backed out--as a bell began to ring somewhere persistently. + +Clare had set down the suitcase and the cage. As Sue closed the door +and turned to her, the sight of that lowered head and bent shoulders +brought the tears to her eyes. "You want to get away?" she asked +gently; "you want to be lost again?" + +The other straightened. "What if I do!" she cried, angrily. "It's my +own business, isn't it? Why don't you mind yours?" + +"Now look here!" put in Balcome, advancing to stand between the two. +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Miss Milo came with the kindest +intentions in the world----" + +"No, no," pleaded Sue. And to Clare, "I'm going. I haven't wanted to +make you unhappy. And, oh, if you're alone----" + +"Rot!" interrupted Balcome, impatiently. "She's got relatives right +here in the house." He shuffled his feet and swung his hat. + +"I have not!" + +Balcome puffed his cheeks with astonishment and anger, and appealed to +Wallace. "Didn't she say so?" he demanded. "And that child called her +Aunt Clare." + +"A--child," repeated Sue, slowly. "A--child?" + +"My--my brother's little girl." + +"A-a-a-ah!" taunted Balcome. "And ten minutes ago, it was her sister's +little girl." He laughed. + +"My sister-in-_law_!"--she fairly screamed at him. "Oh, I wish you'd +go--all of you! How dare you shove your way in here! Haven't I +suffered enough? And you hunt me down! And torture me! Torture me!" +Wildly, she made as if to drive them out, pushing Sue from her; gasping +and sobbing. + +"Wallace!--Mr. Balcome!" Backing out of Clare's reach, Sue took the +two men with her. + +"Go!--Go!--Go!" It was hysteria, or a very fair imitation of it. + +Then of a sudden, while her arms were yet upraised, she looked past the +three who were retreating and through the door now opening at their +back. Another trio was in the hall--Tottie, important and smiling; +Mrs. Milo, elbowing her way ahead of the landlady to hear and see; and +with her, Farvel, grave, concerned, wondering. + +"More visitors!" hailed Tottie. + +"Susan, I distinctly told you----" + +Clare's look fastened on Farvel. She went back a few steps unsteadily, +until the door to her own room stopped her. There she hung, as it +were, pallid and open-mouthed. + +And Farvel made no sound. He came past the others until he stood +directly in front of the drooping, suffering creature against the +panels. His look was the look of a man who sees a ghost. + +Wallace, with quick foresight, had closed the hall door against Tottie. +But the others had no thought except for the meeting between Farvel and +Clare. Mrs. Milo, quite within the embrasure of the bay-window, looked +on like a person at an entertainment. Her glance, plainly one of +delight, now darted from Farvel to Clare, from Clare to Sue. + +With Balcome it was curiosity mixed with hope--the hope that here was +what would completely absolve Wallace, who was waiting, all bent and +shaken. + +Sue stood with averted eyes, as if she felt she should not see. Her +face was composed. There was something very like resignation in the +straight hanging down of her arms, in the bowed attitude of her figure. + +Thus the six for a moment. Then Farvel crumpled and dropped to the +settee. "Laura!" he said, as if to himself; "Laura!" + +"Oh, it's all over! It's all over!" she quavered. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +On those rare occasions of stress when Mrs. Milo did not choose to feel +that the unforeseen and unpleasant was aimed purposely at herself and +her happiness, she could assume another attitude. It was then her +special boast that she was able invariably to summon the proper word +that could smooth away embarrassments, lessen strain, and in general +relieve any situation: she knew how to be tactful; how to make peace: +she had, she explained, that rare quality known as "poise." + +Now with Clare Crosby swagging against the double door of Tottie's +back-parlor, watching Farvel through despairing eyes, and admitting +with trembling lips her own defeat; with Farvel seemingly overcome by +being brought thus suddenly face to face with the soloist, Mrs. Milo +experienced such complete satisfaction that she seized upon this +opportunity as one well calculated to exhibit strikingly her judgment, +balance, and sagacity; her good taste and pious gentleness. + +"Ah, Mr. Farvel!" she cried, in that playfully teasing tone she was +often pleased to affect. "Aren't you glad you came?--Oh, I guessed +your little secret! I guessed you were interested in Miss Crosby!" + +At the sound of her own name, Clare took her eyes from Farvel and +turned them upon Mrs. Milo--turned them slowly, as a sick person +might--with effort, and an almost feeble lifting of the head. Her look +once focused, she began, little by little, to straighten, to stand more +firmly on her feet; she even reached to flatten the starched collar, +which had upreared behind her slender throat. + +Mrs. Milo went twittering on: "Where you're concerned, trust us to be +anxious, dear Mr. Farvel. That's how we came to guess. _Isn't_ it, my +daughter?" + +Sue did not move. "Yes, mother," she answered obediently; "yes." + +Farvel got up. "Mrs. Milo," he began, "I intend to be quite frank with +you all. And I feel I ought to tell you that this young woman----" + +"Alan!" + +It was Clare who protested, almost in a scream, and with a forward +start which Wallace also made--involuntarily. + +Farvel shook his head and threw out both hands in a helpless gesture. +"They'd better hear all about it," he said. + +"You listen to me!" she returned. "This is nobody's business but ours. +Do you understand? Just ours." + +Mrs. Milo interrupted, with an ingratiating smile. "Still, Mr. Farvel +is the Rector of our Church. Naturally, he wishes to be quite +above-board"--she laid emphasis on the words--"even in his personal +affairs." + +"No!" Clare came past Farvel, taking her stand between him and Mrs. +Milo almost defensively. "No, I tell you! No! No! No!" + +Sue went to her mother. "Miss Crosby is right," she urged quietly. +"This is a private matter between her and Mr. Farvel. It goes back +quite a way in their lives, doesn't it?" She turned to the clergyman. +"Before you came to the Rectory, and before mother and I knew you? So +it can't be anything that concerns us, and we haven't any right to +know"--this as Mrs. Milo seemed about to protest again. "I'm right, +mother. And we're going--both of us." + +"We-e-e-ll,"--it was Farvel, uncertain, and troubled. + +"Alan, not now," broke in Wallace; "--later." + +"May _I_ have another word?" inquired Mrs. Milo, with an inflection +that said she had so far been utterly excluded from voicing her +opinions. "Mr. Farvel,----" + +But Clare did not wait for the clergyman to give his permission. "I +say no," she repeated defiantly. And to Farvel, "Please consider me, +will you? I'm not going to have a lot of hypocrites gossiping about +me!"--this with a pointed stare at the elder woman. + +"And, Alan, you said yourself,"--it was Wallace again--"there'll be +talk. You don't want that." + +Balcome, standing behind Wallace, suddenly laid a hand on his arm. +"Say, what's _your_ part in this trouble?" he demanded. "You seem +excited." + +"Why--why--I haven't any part." + +Balcome shrugged, and flopped the big hat. "Not any, eh?" he said. +"Hm!" By a lift of his eyebrows, and a jerk of the head, he invited +Farvel to take a good look at Wallace. + +Farvel seemed suddenly to waken. He shook a pointed finger. "You knew +she was alive!" he declared. + +"He didn't! He did not!" Again Clare was fiercely on the defense. + +"No! On my honor!" vowed Wallace. + +Sue made a warning gesture. "Listen, everybody," she cautioned. +"Suppose we go back to the Rectory." And to Clare, "You and Mr. Farvel +can talk with more privacy there." + +A quick hand touched her. "Susan," whispered Mrs. Milo. + +She had support in her protest. "_I'm_ not going back to any Rectory," +Clare asserted. + +"Back?" repeated Farvel, astonished. "_Back_? Then you--you were the +soloist?" + +"Yes.--Oh, _why_ did I go! Why didn't I ever find out! Milo--it isn't +a common name. And I might have known! I'm a fool! A fool! But I +needed the engagement. And I'd been there before, and I thought it was +all right." + +"What has 'Milo' to do with it?" asked Sue. + +"This--this: I knew that Wallace knew Alan. So--so when I saw Wallace +there, I was sure Alan was there. And I left. That's all." She went +back to the chair by the table and sat. + +"You walked right into my house!" marveled Farvel; "--after all the +years I've searched for you!" + +"Ha! ha!--Just my luck!" She crossed her feet and folded her arms. + +There was a pause. + +Wallace was plainly in misery, at times holding his breath, again +almost blowing, like a man after a run. He shifted uneasily. The +sweat stood out on his white temples, and he brushed the drops into his +hair. + +Of a sudden, Farvel turned to him. "Why didn't you tell me it was +Laura?" he demanded. "You saw her there--you came here--why didn't you +ask me to come?" + +"Well," faltered Wallace, "I--I don't know why I didn't. I'm sorry. +It was just--just----" His voice seemed to go from him. He swallowed. + +Now, Farvel's manner changed. His face darkened, and grew stern. +"There's something here that I don't understand," he said, angrily. + +Clare sprang up. "Oh, drop it, will you?" she asked rudely; "--before +all this crowd." + +Farvel turned on her fiercely. "No, I won't drop it! I want this +thing cleared up!" And to Wallace again, "For ten years you know how +I've searched. And in the beginning, you know better than anyone else +in the whole world how I suffered. And yet today, when you found +Laura, you failed to tell me--_me_, of _all_ persons!" His voice rose +to a shout. "Why, it's monstrous!" + +"And I want this thing cleared up, too," put in Balcome. "Wallace, +you're going to marry my daughter. Why did you lie to me about this +young woman's name?" + +Mrs. Milo went to take her place beside her son. "Do you mean," she +demanded, "that you're both trying to find my dear boy at fault?--to +cover someone else's wrongdoing." She stared at Farvel defiantly. + +"Please, mother!" Wallace pushed her not too gently aside. Then he +faced the other men, his features working with the effort of control. +"Well, it--it was for--for Miss Crosby's sake," he explained. "I knew +she didn't want to be found--I knew it because she was so scared when +she saw me, and ran. And--and then Hattie; you know Hattie's never +cared an awful lot for me. And I was afraid--I was afraid she +might--she might wonder----" He choked. + +"_Hattie,_" repeated Balcome. + +A strange look came into Farvel's eyes. "What has Miss Balcome to do +with it?" he asked. + +"Nothing! Nothing!"--it was Clare. She gave Wallace a warning glance. + +"I thought it might worry her," he added, weakly. + +Farvel seemed to sense a falsehood. "You can't convince me," he said. +"You've known the truth all along--ever since she went away. And you +know why she went.--Don't you? _Don't_ you?" Again his voice rose. +He advanced almost threateningly. + +"No! No! I swear it!" + +"No!" echoed Clare. + +"This is disgraceful!" cried Mrs. Milo, appealing to Balcome. + +"Oh, go home, mother!" entreated her son, ungratefully. + +Sue added her plea. "Yes, let's all go. Because you're all speaking +pretty loud, and our hostess is a lady of considerable curiosity. +Come--let's return to the Rectory." + +"Susan!" stormed Mrs. Milo. Then, more quietly, "Please think of your +mother's wishes. Mr. Farvel and Mr. Balcome are right. Let us clear +up this matter before we return." + +Clare burst into a loud laugh. "Ha-a-a! Talk about curiosity!" she +mocked. And went back to her chair. + +Sue reddened under the taunt. "Well, I, for one, don't wish to know +your private affairs," she declared. "So I'm going." + +"Susan!--You may leave the room if you desire to do so. But you will +remain within call." + +"I'd rather go home, mother." + +"You will obey me." + +"Very well." + +"Mm!" Mrs. Milo, plainly gratified, seated herself in the rocker. + +"If there's anything I can do for you, Miss Crosby, just ask me." Sue +forbore looking at Farvel. She was pale again now, as if with +weariness. But she smiled. + +Clare did not even look round. Beside her was the canary, his shining +black eyes keeping watch on the group of strangers as he darted from +cage bottom to perch, or hung, fluttering and apprehensive, against the +wires of his home. Clare lifted the cage to her knee and encircled it +with an arm. + +Balcome caught Sue's eye, made a comical grimace, and patted her on the +arm. "As this seems to concern my girl," he explained, "I'm here to +stay." He dropped into a chair by the hearth. + +Sue went out. + +Clare was quite herself by now. She disdained to look at anyone save +Farvel, and the smile she gave him over a shoulder was scornful. +"Well, shoot!" she challenged. "Let's not take all day." + +"Why did you leave without a word?" he asked. + +"You mean today?--I told you." + +"I mean ten years ago." + +"Well, if you want to know, I was tired of being cooped up, so I dug +out." + +"Cooped up!" exclaimed Farvel, bitterly. + +"I guess you know it! And Church! Church! Church! And prayers three +times a day! And a small town! Oh, it was _deadly_!" + +"No other reason?" asked Farvel, coldly. + +She got up, suddenly impatient. "I've told you the truth!" she cried. +Then more quietly, seeing how white and drawn he looked, "I'm sorry it +worried you." She set the cage on a chair near the double door. + +"Worried!" echoed Farvel, bitterly. "Ha! ha!" And with significance, +"And who was concerned in your going?" + +"That's a nice thing for you to insinuate!" she returned hotly. + +"I beg your pardon." + +Mrs. Milo fell to rocking nervously. She was enjoying the situation to +the full; still--the attitude of Farvel toward this young woman was far +from lover-like; while her attitude toward him was marked by hatred +badly disguised. Hence an unpleasant and unwelcome thought: What if +this "Laura" turned out to be only a relative of the clergyman's! + +Farvel's apology moved Clare to laughter. "Oh, that's all right," she +assured him, impudently; "I understand. The more religious people are, +you know, the more vile are their suspicions"--this with a mocking +glance at Mrs. Milo. + +The green velour rocker suddenly stood still, and Mrs. Milo fairly +glared at the girl. Clare, seeing that she had gained the result she +sought, grinned with satisfaction, and resumed her chair. + +Farvel had not noticed what passed between the two women. He was +watching Wallace. "And you----" he began presently. + +The younger man straightened, writhed within his clothes as if he were +in pain, and went back to his stooping position once more--all with +that swiftness which was so like the effect of an electrical current. +"Alan," he whispered. + +"--What had you to do with it?" went on the clergyman. + +Clare scoffed. "Wallace had nothing to do with it," she declared. +"What in the dickens is the matter with you?" + +"Nothing to do with it?" repeated Farvel. Then, with sudden fury, +"Look at him!" He made for Wallace, pushing aside a chair that was not +in his way. + +"Alan! Stop!" Clare rose, and Mrs. Milo rose, too. + +"Come now, Wallace," Farvel said more quietly. "I want the truth." + +Mrs. Milo hastened to her son. "Darling, I know you haven't done +anything wrong," she said, tenderly. "This 'friend' is trying to shift +the blame. Stand up for yourself, my boy. Mother believes in you." + +Wallace's chin sank to his breast. At the end of his long arms, his +hands knotted and unknotted like the hands of a man in agony. + +"My dearest!" comforted his mother. His suffering was evidence of +guilt to Balcome and Farvel; to her it was grief, at having been put +under unjust suspicion. + +He lifted a white face. His eyes were streaming now, his whole body +trembling pitifully. "Oh, what'll I do!" he cried. "What'll I do!" +He tottered to the chair that Farvel had shoved aside, dropped into it, +and covered his face with both hands. + +"My boy! My boy!" + +"Don't act like a baby!" Clare came to him, and gave him a smart slap +on the shoulder. "Cut it out! You haven't done anything." + +"Just a moment," interrupted Farvel. He shoved her out of the way as +impersonally as he had the chair. Then, "What do you mean by 'What'll +do'?" he demanded. And to Clare, pulling at his arm, "Let me alone, I +tell you. I'm going to know what's back of this!--_Wallace Milo_!" + +Slowly Wallace got up. His cheeks were wet. His mouth was distorted, +like the mouth of a woeful small boy. His throat worked spasmodically, +so that the cords stood out above his collar. + +Clare defended him fiercely. "What've you got into your head?" she +asked Farvel. "You're wrong! You're dead wrong!--Wallace, tell him +he's wrong!" + +Wallace shook his head. "No," he said, striving to speak evenly; "no, +I won't. All these years I've suffered, too. I've wanted to make a +clean breast of it a million times--to get it off my conscience. Now, +I can. I"--he braced himself to go on--"I was at the Rectory so much, +Alan. I think that's how--it started. And--and she was nice to me, +and I--I liked her. And we were almost the same age. So----" He +could go no further. With a gesture of agonized appeal, he sank to his +knees. "Oh, Alan, forgive me!" he sobbed. "Forgive----" + +There could be no doubt of his meaning--of the character of his +confession. Farvel bent over him, seizing an arm. "Get on your feet!" +he shouted. "Get up! Get up, I tell you! I'm going to knock you +down!" + +"Oh, help! Help!" wept Mrs. Milo, appealing to Balcome, who came +forward promptly. + +"Farvel!" he admonished. He got between the two men. + +Clare was dragging at Farvel. "Blame me!" she cried. "I was older! +Blame me!" + +Farvel pushed her aside. "Don't try to shield him!" he answered. +"He's a dog! A dog!" + +A loud voice sounded from the hall. It was Tottie, storming +virtuously. "I won't have it!" she cried. "This is my house, and I +won't have it!" + +Another voice pleaded with her--"Now wait! Please!" + +"I'm goin' in there," asserted the landlady. She came pounding against +the hall door, opened it, and entered, her bobbed hair lifting and +falling with the rush of her coming. "Say! What do you call this, +anyhow?" she demanded, shaking off the hand with which Sue was +attempting to restrain her. + +"Keep out of here," ordered Balcome, advancing upon her boldly. + +She met him without flinching. "I won't have no knock-down and +drag-out in my house!" she declared. "This is a respectable----" + +"Oh, I'm used to tantrums," he retorted. And without more ado, he +forced Miss St. Clair backward into the hall, followed her, and shut +himself as well as her out of the room. + +"I'll have you arrested for this!" she shrilled. + +"Oh, shut up!" + +Their voices mingled, and became less audible. + +"You can't blame her," said Sue. "Really, from out there, it sounded +suspiciously like murder." She stared at her brother. He was not +kneeling now, but half-sitting, half-lying, in an awkward sprawl, at +Farvel's feet, much as if he had thrown himself down in a fit of temper. + +Farvel turned to her. His face was set. His eyes were dull, as if a +glaze was spread upon them. His hands twitched. But he spoke quietly. +"Get this man out of here," he directed, "or I _shall_ kill him." + +"Oh, go! Go!" pleaded Mrs. Milo. + +"Go!" added Clare. She threw herself into the chair at the table, put +her arms on the cloth, and her face in her arms. + +Sue ran to Wallace, took his arm and tugged at it, lifting him. He +stumbled up, still weeping a little, but weakly. As she turned him +toward the hall, he put an arm across her shoulders for support. + +Mrs. Milo followed them. She was not in the dark as to the nature of +her son's tearful admission. But she had no mind to blame him. +Resorting to her accustomed tactics, she put Farvel in the wrong. "I +never should have trusted my dear boy to you," she cried. "I thought +he would be under good influences in a clergyman's house. Only +eighteen, and you make him responsible!" + +The door opened, and Balcome was there. He looked at Wallace not +unkindly. "Pretty tough luck, young man," he observed. + +At sight of Balcome, Mrs. Milo remembered the wedding. "Oh!" she +gasped. And turning about to Farvel in a wild appeal, "Oh, Hattie! +Think of poor Hattie! Won't you forget yourself in this? Won't you +help us to keep it all quiet? Oh, we mustn't ruin her life!" She +returned to the rocker, her fingers to her eyes, as if she were +pressing back the tears. + +Balcome had come in, closing the door. He crossed to Farvel, his big, +blowzy face comical in its gravity. "Mr. Farvel," he said, "whatever +concerns that young man concerns my--little girl." He blinked with +emotion. "So--so that's why I ask, who is this young woman?" + +Before Farvel could reply, Clare lifted her head, stood suddenly, and +stared Balcome from his disheveled hair to his wide, soft, well-worn +shoes. "Oh, allow me, Alan!" she cried. "You know, they're just about +to burst, both of 'em!"--for Mrs. Milo was peering at her over a +handkerchief, the blue eyes bright with expectancy. "If they don't +know the worst in five seconds, there'll be an explosion sure!" She +laughed harshly. Then with mock ceremony, and impudently, "Mr. +Balcome,--and _dear_ Mrs. Milo, permit me to introduce myself. I am +your charming clergyman's beloved bride." She curtsied. + +No explosion could have brought Mrs. Milo to her feet with more +celerity. While Balcome stumbled backward, the red of his countenance +taking on an apoplectic greenish tinge. + +"_Bride?_" he cried. + +"_Wife?_" gasped Mrs. Milo, hollowly. + +But almost instantly the blue eyes lighted with a smile. She put back +her bonneted head to regard Clare from under lowered lashes. "Ah!" she +sighed in relief. No longer was there need to fear publicity for her +son; here was a situation that insured against it. + +"Yes, you feel better, don't you?" commiserated Clare, sarcastically. +"--Tuh!" + +Balcome was blinking harder than ever. "Well, I'll be damned!" he +vowed under his breath. + +By now Mrs. Milo's smile had grown into a clear, joyous, well-modulated +laugh. "Oh, ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!--Wife!" she exulted. "That is most +interesting! Hm!--And it changes everything, doesn't it?"--this to no +one in particular. She reseated herself, studying the floor +thoughtfully, finding her glasses meanwhile, and tapping a finger with +them gently. "Hm!--Ah!--Yes." + +Balcome replied to her, and with no idea of sparing her feelings. +"Yes, that puts quite a different face on things," he agreed; "--on +what Wallace has done. The home of his best friend!" + +"Let's not talk about it!" begged Farvel. + +"All right, Mr. Farvel," answered Balcome, soothingly. "But my +Hattie's happiness--that's what I'm thinking of." He came nearer to +Clare now. "And before I go," he said to her, "I'd like to ask you one +more question." + +"Oh, you would!" she retorted ironically. "Well, I'm not going to +answer any more questions. I've got a lot to do. And I want to be let +alone." She made as if to go. + +"Wait!" commanded Farvel. + +She flushed angrily. "Well? Well? Well?" she demanded, her voice +rising. + +"We shan't trouble you again," assured the clergyman, more kindly. + +"Then spit it out!" she cried to Balcome. "I want to know," began +Balcome, eyeing her keenly, "just whose child that is?" + +It was Farvel's turn to gasp. "Child?" he echoed. + +Mrs. Milo straightened against the green velours. "A child?" she said +in turn. + +"You know who I mean," declared Balcome, not taking his look from +Clare. "That little girl who called you Auntie." + +She tried to speak naturally. "That--that--she's a friend's child--a +friend's child from up-State." + +"You told us she was your sister's child," persisted Balcome. + +She took refuge in a burst of temper. "Well, what if I did? I'm +liable to say anything--to you!" + +There was a pause. Farvel watched Clare, but she looked down, not +trusting herself to meet his eyes. As for Balcome, he had reached a +conclusion that did not augur well for the happiness of his daughter. +And his gaze wandered miserably. + +Curiously enough, not a hint occurred to Mrs. Milo that this new turn +of affairs might have some bearing on her son. She found her voice +first. "Ah, Mr. Balcome," she said sadly, nodding as she put away her +glasses, "it's just as I told Sue: it's always the same story when a +girl drops out of sight!" + +"Oh, is that so!" returned the younger woman, wrathfully. "Well, it +just happens, madam, that I was married." + +"Laura!" entreated Farvel. "You mean--you mean the child is--ours?" + +She tossed her head. "Is it bad news?" she asked. + +Farvel's shoulders were shaking. "A-a-a-ah!" he murmured. He fumbled +for a handkerchief, crumbled it, and held it against his face. + +"My dear Mrs. Farvel," began Mrs. Milo, in her best manner, "believe me +when I say that I'm very glad to hear all this. I know what the +temptations of this great city are, and naturally----" She got up. "A +reunited family, Mr. Farvel," she said, smiling graciously. "Oh, Susan +will be so pleased!" She fluttered toward the door, "So pleased!" + +Clare gave a hissing laugh. "Oh, how that news will scatter!" she +exclaimed. And flounced into her chair. + +Mrs. Milo was calling into the hall. "Susan! Susan dear!" + +"On guard!" Sue was part way up the stairs, seated. + +"Just a moment, my daughter." Leaving the door wide, Mrs. Milo came +fluttering back. "It really didn't surprise me," she declared, with a +wise nod at Balcome. "I half guessed a marriage." + +"Hope for the worst!" mocked Clare. + +Sue came in, with a quick look around. "Are you ready to go, mother?" + +"You bet, mother is _not_ ready to go,"--this Clare, under her breath. + +"My dear," said her mother, sweetly, "we have called you in to tell you +some good news." + +Sue smiled. "I could manage to bear up under quite a supply of good +news." Farvel was brushing at his eyes. His face was averted, but she +guessed that he had been crying. + +"First of all, Susan, Miss Crosby is----" + +"Now, mother, does Miss Crosby want----" + +"Wa-a-ait! Please! It is something she wishes you to know.--Am I +right?" This with that characteristic smile so wholly muscular. + +"Right as the mail!" assured Clare, ironically again, and borrowing an +expression learned from Hull. + +"Ah! Thank you!--Susan, Miss Crosby is not Miss Crosby at all. She is +married.--I'm so glad your husband has found you, my dear." + +"Found? You--you don't mean----" There was a frightened look in Sue's +eyes. + +Her mother misunderstood the look. "Yes, lucky Mr. Farvel," she said, +beaming. Then with precision, since Sue seemed not to comprehend, +"Mrs.--Alan--Farvel." + +"I--see." + +"Didn't I practically guess that Mr. Farvel was married?" + +"Married,"--it was like an echo. + +"And I was right!" + +"Yes, mother,--yes--you're--you're always right." + +"Mr. Farvel, we congratulate you!--Don't we, dear?" + +"Congratulations." + +Something in Sue's face made Farvel reach out his hand to her. She +took it mechanically. Thus they stood, but not looking at each other. + +Once more Mrs. Milo was playfully teasing. "Why shouldn't we all know +that you had a wife?" she twittered. It was as if she had added, "You +bad, bad boy!" + +"Yes," said Sue. "Why not? Rectors do have them. There's no canon +against it." She laughed tremulously, and dropped his hand. + +Clare tossed her head. "There ought to be!" she declared. + +At that, Mrs. Milo threw out both arms dramatically. "Oh! Oh, dear!" +she cried. "I've just thought of something!" + +"I'll bet!" Clare turned, instantly apprehensive. + +"Save it, mother!" begged Sue, eager to avert whatever might be +impending; "--save it till we get home. Come! Mr. and Mrs. Farvel +will have things to talk over." And to the clergyman, "We'll take Mr. +Balcome and go on ahead." + +"Now wait!" bade Mrs. Milo, gently. "Why are you so impetuous, +daughter? Why don't you listen to your mother? Why do you take it for +granted that I want to make Mrs. Farvel unhappy?"--this in a chiding +aside. + +"I don't, mother." + +"Indeed, I am greatly concerned about her. She believed her husband +dead, poor girl. And now"--with a sudden, disconcerting turn on +Clare--"what about your engagement?" + +"I'm--I'm not engaged!" As she sprang up, the girl pressed both hands +against the wine-colored velveteen of her skirt, hiding them. "I never +said I was! Oh, I wish you'd mind your own business!" + +"Mother! Mother!" pleaded Sue. "It was you who said it. Not +Miss--Mrs. Farvel. Don't you remember?" + +"How _could_ I be engaged?" She was emboldened by Sue's help. "I knew +he wasn't--dead." + +Farvel laughed a little bitterly. "You mean, no such luck, don't you, +Laura?" he asked. "Well, then,--I've got some good news for you." + +"What? What?"--with a sudden, eager movement toward him. + +"When five years had passed, and no word had come from you, though we +all felt that you were alive, your brother--in order to settle the +estate--had you declared legally dead. And naturally, that--that----" + +"I'm free!" She put up both hands, and lifted her face--almost as if +in prayerful thanksgiving. "I'm free! I'm free!" Then she gave way +to boisterous laughter, and fell to walking to and fro, waving her +arms, and turning her head from side to side. "I'm dead, but I'm free! +Oh, ha! ha! ha!--Well, that _is_ good news! Free! And _you're_ free!" + +"No, I am not free," he said quietly. "But it doesn't matter." + +"You are free," she protested. "Anyhow, I'm not going to let any of +that nonsense stand in my way. And don't you--church or no church. +Life's too short." Her manner was hurried. She caught at Farvel's +arm. "We're both free, Alan, so there's nothing more to say, is there? +Except, good-by. Good-by, Alan,----" + +Mrs. Milo interrupted. "But the child," she reminded. "Your daughter?" + +"Daughter?" Sue turned to Balcome, questioning him, and half-guessing. + +"Yes, my dear. Isn't it lovely? Mr. and Mrs. Farvel have a little +girl." + +"That's the one," Balcome explained, as if Clare was not within +hearing. He jerked his head toward the hall. "The one that called her +Auntie." + +"Auntie?" Mrs. Milo seized upon the information. "You surely don't +mean that the child calls her own mother Auntie?" + +Clare broke in. "I'll tell you how that is," she volunteered. "You +see"--speaking to Sue--"I've never told her I'm her mother. She thinks +her mother's in Africa; her father, too. Because--because I've always +planned to give her to some good couple--a married couple. Don't you +see, as long as Barbara doesn't know, they could say, 'We are your +parents.'" + +"But you couldn't give her up like that!" cried Sue, earnestly. + +"No," purred Mrs. Milo. "You must keep your baby. And, +doubtless"--this with the ingratiating smile, the tip of the head, and +the pious inflection--"doubtless you two will wish to re-marry--for the +sake of the child." + +"No!" cried Clare. "No! No! _No!_" + +"No, Mrs. Milo," added Farvel, quietly. "She shall be free." + +"No, for Heaven's sake!" put in Balcome. "Don't raise another girl +like Hattie's been raised." + +Mrs. Milo showed her dislike of the remark, with its implied criticism +of her own judgment. And she was uneasy over the turn that the whole +matter had taken. Farvel married, no matter to whom, was one thing: +Farvel very insecurely tied, and possessed of a small daughter whose +mother repudiated her, that was quite another. She watched Sue +narrowly, for Sue was watching Farvel. + +"But the little one," said the clergyman, turning to Clare; "I'd like +to see her." + +"Sure!" She was all eagerness. "Why not?--Yes." + +"Where is she?" + +"Out of town. At Poughkeepsie. She boards with some people." + +"Ah, good little mother!" said Sue, smiling. "Your baby's not in an +Institution!" + +Clare blushed under the compliment. "No, I--I shouldn't like to have +her in an Orphanage." + +"Can she come down right away?" asked Farvel. + +"Yes! Right away! I'll go after her now." + +"I'll go with you," suggested Sue. "May I?" + +She tried to catch Farvel's eye, to warn him. + +"But, Susan," objected Mrs. Milo; "I can't spare you." + +"Oh, I can go alone," protested Clare. "I don't need anybody." + +Behind her back, Balcome held up a lead-pencil at Sue. + +She understood, "We'll send for the baby. Now, what's the address?" +She proffered Clare the pencil and an envelope from one of Balcome's +sagging pockets. Then to him, as Clare wrote, "Would you mind going +back to the Rectory and sending me Dora?" + +"Good idea!" He pulled on the big hat. + +"Dora?" cried Mrs. Milo. "That child?" + +"Child!" laughed Sue. "Why, I'd send her to Japan. You don't think +she'd ever succumb to the snares and pitfalls of this wicked world! +She'll set the whole train to memorizing Lamentations!" + +Mrs. Milo's eyes narrowed. Sue's sudden interest in Farvel's daughter +was irritating and disturbing. "Wait, Brother Balcome," she begged. +"Sue, _I_ don't see why the little girl's own mother shouldn't go for +her." + +"Of course, I can." + +Balcome waited no longer. With a meaning glance at Sue, and a scowl +for Mrs. Milo, he hurried out. + +"Oh, let Dora go, Mrs. Farvel," urged Sue. "And meanwhile, you can be +getting settled somewhere." + +Clare looked pleased. "Yes. All right." + +"Then she will leave here?" inquired Mrs. Milo. + +"Oh, she must," declared Sue, "if she's going to have her baby come to +her." She indicated the suitcase. "Is there more?" + +"A trunk. And it won't take me ten minutes." As she turned to go, +Clare's look rested on the bird-cage, and she put out a hand toward it +involuntarily--then checked her evident wish to take it with her, and +disappeared into her own room. + +"Where had she better go?" asked Farvel, appealing to Sue. "You'll +know best, I'm sure----" + +Mrs. Milo fluttered to join them. "Of course," she began, her voice +full of sweet concern, "there are organized Homes for young women +who've made mistakes----" + +"Sh!" cautioned Farvel, with a nervous look toward the double door. + +"There's the little one, mother," reminded Sue. + +"Oh, but hear me out," begged the elder woman. "In this case, I'm not +advising such an institution. I suggest some very nice family hotel." + +Sue lowered her voice. "It won't do," she said. "We want to help +her--and we want to help the baby. If she goes alone to a hotel, we'll +never see her again. Just before you came----" She went close to the +double door. Beyond it, someone was moving quickly about, with much +rustling of paper. She came tiptoeing back. "She tried to steal +away," she whispered. + +"I mustn't lose track of my daughter," declared Farvel. He, too, went +to listen for sounds from the back-parlor. + +"Then we'd better take her right to the Rectory," advised Sue, "and +have Barbara brought there." + +Mrs. Milo bristled. "Now if you please!" she exclaimed angrily. + +Farvel crossed to her, eyeing her determinedly. "I don't see any +serious objection," he observed challengingly. "Your son--will not be +there." + +"You've lost your senses! Have you no regard for the conventions? +This woman is your ex-wife!" + +"But if there is no publicity--and for just a few days, mother." + +Mrs. Milo attempted to square those slender shoulders. "I won't have +that girl at the Rectory," she replied with finality. + +Farvel smiled. "But the Rectory is _my_ home, Mrs. Milo." + +"Oh, for the sake of the child, mother! For no other reason." + +"_If_ she comes, I shall leave--leave for good!" + +Farvel bowed an acceptance of her edict. "Well, she _is_ coming," he +said firmly; "and so is Barbara." + +"Then I shan't sleep under that roof another night!" Mrs. Milo +trembled with wrath. "Come, Susan! _We_ shall do some packing." She +bustled to the hall door, but paused there to right her bonnet--an +excuse for delaying her departure against the capitulation of her +opponents. She longed to speak at greater length and more plainly, but +she dreaded what Farvel might say against her son. + +Sue did not follow. "But, mother!" she whispered. "Mr. Farvel!--Oh, +don't let her hear any of this!" She motioned the clergyman toward the +rear room. "Sh!--You offer to help her! Go in there! Oh, do!" + +He nodded. "And you'll come with us to the Rectory?" + +"Indeed, she won't!" cried Mrs. Milo, coming back. "The very idea!" + +Farvel ignored her. "You see," he added, with just a touch of humor, +"we'll have to have a chaperone." He knocked. + +"Oh, come in!" called Clare. + +Sue shut the door behind him; then she took her mother with her to the +bay-window, halted her there as if she were standing one of the naughty +orphans in a corner, and looked at her in sorrowful reproval. + +Mrs. Milo drew away from the touch of her daughter's hand irritably. +"Now, don't glare at me like that!" she ordered. "The Rectory is not a +reformatory." + +"Oh, let's not take that old ruined-girl attitude!" replied Sue, +impatiently. "Laura Farvel doesn't need reforming. She needs kindness +and love." + +"Love!" repeated Mrs. Milo, scornfully. "Do you realize that you're +talking about a woman who led your own brother astray?" + +"I don't know who did the leading," Sue answered quietly. "As a matter +of fact, they were both very young----" + +"Wallace is a good boy!" + +"The less we say about Wallace in this matter the better. Why don't +you go to him, mother? He must be very unhappy. He will want advice. +And there's Mr. Balcome--shouldn't you and he take all this up with +Hattie's mother?" + +"Wallace will tell Hattie. We can trust him. But I don't want you to +act foolish. Is she going to bring that child to the Rectory?" + +"To the home of the child's own father? Why not?" + +"Yes! And you'll get attached to her!" + +Sue did not guess at the real fear that lay behind her mother's words. +"But you _want_ me to, don't you? I'm attached to a hundred others +there already. And you'll love Barbara, too." + +"There! You see?--Wherever a young one is concerned, you utterly +forget your mother!" + +"Why--why----" Sue put a helpless hand to her forehead. "Forget you? +I don't see how the little one would make any difference----" + +Farvel interrupted, opening the double door a few inches to look in. +"Miss Susan,--just a minute?" + +"Can I help?" Without waiting for the protest to be expected from her +mother, Sue hurried out. + +Mrs. Milo stayed where she was, staring toward the back-parlor. +"O-o-o-oh! To the Rectory!" she stormed. "It's abominable! I won't +have it! Such an insult!--The creature!" + +Someone entered from the hall--noiselessly. It was Tottie, wearing her +best manners, and with a countenance from which, obviously, she had +extracted, as it were, some of the rosy color worn at her earlier +appearance. She had smoothed her bobbed red tresses, too, and a long +motor veil of a lilac tinge made less obtrusive the decollete of the +tea-gown. + +"Young woman," began Mrs. Milo, speaking low, and with an air of +confidence calculated to flatter; "this--this Miss Crosby;" (she gave a +jerky nod of her bonnet to indicate the present whereabouts of that +person) "you've known her some time?" + +A wise smile spread upon Miss St. Clair's derouged face. She dropped +her lashes and lifted them again. "Long," she replied significantly, +"and _intimate_." + +The blue eyes danced. "My daughter seems interested in her. And I +have a mother's anxiety." + +Tottie was blessed with a sense of humor, but she conquered her desire +to laugh. The daughter in question was a woman older than herself; +under the circumstances, a "mother's anxiety" was hardly deserving of +sympathy. Nevertheless, the landlady answered in a voice that was deep +with condolence. "Oh, _I_ understand how y' feel," she declared. + +"We know very little about her. I wonder--can _you_--tell +me--_something_." + +Tottie let her eyes fall--to the modish dress, with its touches of +lace; to a pearl-and-amethyst brooch that held Mrs. Milo's collar; to +the fresh gloves and the smart shoes. She recognized good taste even +though she did not choose to subscribe to it; also, she recognized cost +values. She looked up with a mysterious smile. "Well," she said +slowly, "I don't like to--knock anybody." + +"A-a-ah!" triumphed the elder woman; "I thought so!--Now, you won't let +me be imposed upon! Please! Quick!" A white glove was laid on a +chiffon sleeve. + +"Sh!--Later! Later!" The landlady drew away, pointing toward the +back-parlor warningly. The situation was to her taste. She seemed to +be a part of one of those very scenes for which her soul +yearned--melodramatic scenes such as she had witnessed across +footlights, with her husky-voiced favorite in the principal role. + +"I'll come back," whispered Mrs. Milo. + +"No. I'll 'phone you." With measured tread, Tottie stalked to the +double door, her eyes shifting, and one hand outstretched with +spraddling fingers to indicate caution. + +Mrs. Milo trotted after her. "But I think I'd better come back." + +Tottie whirled. "What's your 'phone number?" + +"Stuyvesant--three, nine, seven,"--this before she could remember that +she was not planning to sleep under the Rectory roof again. + +"Don't I git more'n a number?" persisted Tottie. "Whom 'm I to ask +for?" + +"Just say 'Mrs. Milo.'" + +"Stuyvesant--three, nine, seven, Mrs. Milo," repeated Tottie, leaning +down at the table to note the data. Then with the information safely +registered, "Of course, it'll be worth somethin' to you." + +Mrs. Milo almost reeled. She opened her mouth for breath. +"Why--why--you mean----" All her boasted poise was gone. + +Tottie grinned--with a slanting look from between half-lowered lashes. +"I mean--money," she said softly; and gave Mrs. Milo a playful little +poke. + +"Money!"--too frightened, now, even to resent familiarity. "Money! +Oh, you wouldn't----! You don't----!" + +"Yes, ma'am! You want somethin' from me, and I can give it to y', but +you're goin' to _pay_ for it!" + +The double door opened. Sue entered, her look startled and inquiring. +It was plain that she had overheard. + +Mrs. Milo pretended not to have noted Sue's coming. "Yes, very well," +she said to Tottie, as if continuing a conversation that was casual; +but the blue eyes were frightened. "Thank you so _much_!"--warmly. +"And isn't that a bell I hear ringing?" She gave the landlady a glance +full of meaning. + +"Ha-ha!" With a nod and a saucy backward grin, Tottie went out. + +For a moment neither mother nor daughter spoke. Sue waited, trying to +puzzle out the significance of what she had caught; and scarcely daring +to charge an indiscretion. Mrs. Milo waited, forcing Sue to speak +first, and thus betray how much she had heard. + +"I thought you'd gone," ventured Sue. + +"Gone, darling? Without you?" + +"That woman;"--Sue came closer--"I hope you were very careful." + +"Why, I was!"--this not without the note of injured innocence always so +effective. + +But Sue was not to be blocked so easily. "You're going to pay her for +what?" + +"Pay?" + +"What was she saying?" + +Now Mrs. Milo realized that she had been heard: that she must save +herself from a mortifying situation by some other method than simple +justification. She took refuge in tears. "I can see that you're +trying to blame me for something!" she complained, and sank, weeping, +to the settee. + +"I don't like to, mother," answered Sue, "but----" + +That good angel who watches over those who see no other way out of an +embarrassing predicament save the unlikely arrival of an earthquake or +an aeroplane now intervened in Mrs. Milo's behalf. Dora came in, +showing that the bell had, indeed, been summoning the mistress of the +house. Behind Dora was Tottie, and the attitude of each to the other +was plainly belligerent. + +"As you don't know your Scriptures," Dora was saying, with a sad +intonation which marked Tottie as one of those past redemption, "I'll +repeat the reference for you: 'Curiosity was given to man as a +scourge.'" Then in anything but a spirit proper to a biblical +quotation, she slammed the door in Tottie's face. + +Mrs. Milo, dry-eyed, was on her feet to receive Dora. "Oh, you +impudent!" she charged. "That's the reference you gave _me_--when I +asked you who was telephoning my daughter! I looked it up!" + +"Ah, Mrs. Milo!" Dora put finger-tips together and cast mournful eyes +up to Tottie's chandelier. "'The tongue is a world of iniquity.'" + +Sue took her by a shoulder, shaking her a little. "Dora, I'm sending +you out of town." + +"Oh, Miss Susan!" All nonsense was frightened out of her. "Don't send +me away! I tried to do my best--to keep her from coming here! But, +oh, Deuteronomy, nine, thirteen!" + +"Deuteronomy, nine, thirteen," repeated Mrs. Milo, wrinkling her brows. +Her eyes moved as she cudgeled her brain. "Deuteronomy----" + +Sue gave Dora another shake. "Listen, my dear! I'm sending you after +a little girl. Here! Twenty dollars, and it's Mr. Farvel's." + +"Oh, Miss Susan!"--with abject relief. "Gladly do I devote my gifts, +poor as they are, to your service." And in her best ministerial +manner, "Where is the child?" She tucked the paper bill into a glove. + +"Poughkeepsie,"--Sue gave her the address. "Go up this +afternoon--right away. And return the first thing in the morning. +Bring her straight to the Rectory. Now, you'll have quite a ride with +that baby, Dora. And I want you to get her ready for the happiest +moment in all her little life! Do you hear?--the happiest, Dora! And, +oh, here's where you must be eloquent!" + +"Oh, Miss Susan, 'I am of slow speech, and of a slow tongue.'" + +"I'll tell you what to say," reassured Sue. "You say to her that +you're bringing her to her mother; and that she's going to live with +her mother, in a little cottage somewhere--a cottage running over with +roses." + +"Roses," echoed Dora, and counting on her fingers, "--mother, cottage, +garden----" + +"And tell her that she's got a dear mother--so brave, and good, and +sweet, and pretty. And her mother loves her--don't forget that!--loves +her better than anything else in the whole world----" + +"Loves her," checked off Dora, pulling aside another finger; "--brave, +good, sweet, pretty----" + +"Yes, and there's going to be no more boarding out--no more forever! +Oh, the lonely little heart!" Sue took Dora by both shoulders. "Her +mother's waiting for her! Her mother! Her own mother!" + +"Boarding out,"--checking again; "--waiting mother. Miss Susan, I +shall return by the first train tomorrow, Providence permitting." This +last was accompanied by a solemn look at Mrs. Milo, and a roguish +hop-skip that freed her from Sue's hold. + +"Oh, the very first!" urged Sue. "Dora!" + +Dora swung herself out. + +Now Mrs. Milo seemed her usual self once more. "Then Mrs. Farvel will +not remain at the Rectory?" she inquired. + +"Oh, how could she? Of course not! They called me in to tell me: Mrs. +Farvel and Barbara will leave New York in two or three days." + +"Good! Meanwhile, we shall stay at the hotel with Mrs. Balcome." + +"But I _must_ go to the Rectory." + +"_I_ see no necessity." + +"Why, mother! Mrs. Farvel couldn't possibly go there without someone. +Surely you see how it is. Besides, there's the house--Dora's gone, and +I must go back." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind," returned Mrs. Milo, tartly. + +"Just for one night?" + +"Not for one hour. They will get someone else." + +"A stranger?--Now, mother! Mrs. Farvel needs me." + +"Oh, she needs you, does she?"--resentfully. "And I suppose your own +mother doesn't need you." + +"You'll be with Wallace." + +"So!" And with a taunting smile, "Perhaps Mr. Farvel also needs you." + +"No." But now a curious look came into Sue's eyes--a look of +comprehension. Jealousy! It was patent to her, as it had never been +before. Her mother was jealous of Farvel; fearful that even at so late +a date happiness might come to the middle-aged woman who was her +daughter. "No," she said again. "He doesn't need me." + +"_In_deed!" + +"No--I need him." + +Mrs. Milo was appalled. "A-a-a-ah! So _that's_ it! You need him! +Now, we're coming to the truth!" + +"Yes--the truth." + +"_That's_ why you couldn't rest till you'd followed this woman!" Mrs. +Milo pointed a trembling hand toward the double door. "You were sure +it was some love-affair. And you were jealous!" + +Sue laughed. "Jealous," she repeated, bitterly. + +"Yes, jealous! The fact of the matter is, you're crazy about Alan +Farvel!" She was panting. + +"And if--I am?" asked Sue. + +"_Oh!_" It was a cry of fury. With a swift movement, Mrs. Milo passed +Sue, pulled at the double door, and stood, bracing herself, as she +almost shrieked down at Clare, kneeling before an open suitcase. +"You've done this! You! You dragged my son down, and now you're +coming between me and my daughter!" + +Clare rose, throwing a garment aside. + +"Mother! Mother!" Sue tried to draw her mother away. + +Mrs. Milo retreated, but only to let Clare enter, followed by Farvel. + +"Go back!" begged Sue. "Go back!--Mr. Farvel, take her!" + +"Come, Laura! Come!" + +But Clare would not go. "Yes, come--and let her wreak her meanness on +Miss Milo! No! Here's a sample of what you're going to get, Alan, for +insisting on my going to that Rectory. So you'd better hear it. I +told you the plan is a mistake." And to Mrs. Milo, "Let's hear what +you've got to say." + +Righteous virtue glittered in the blue eyes. "I've got this to say!" +she cried. "You've been missing ten years--ten years of running around +loose. What've you been up to? Are you fit to be a friend of my +daughter?" + +Sue flung an arm about Clare. "I am her friend!" she declared. "I +won't judge her!--Oh, mother!" + +It only served to rouse Mrs. Milo further. "Ah, she knows I'm +right!--You're going to lie, are you? You're going to palm yourself +off on a decent man! Ha! You won't fool anybody! You're marked! +Look in this glass!" She caught up the hand-mirror lying on the table +and thrust it before Clare's face. "Look at yourself! It's as easy to +read as paper written over with nasty things! Your paint and powder +won't cover it! The badness sticks out like a scab!" Then as Clare, +with a sudden twist of the body, and a sob, hid her face against Sue, +Mrs. Milo tossed the mirror to the table. "There!" she cried. "I've +had my say! Now take your bleached fallen woman to the Rectory!" And +with a look of defiance, she went back to the rocking-chair and sat. + +No one spoke for a moment. Sue, holding the weeping girl in her arms, +and soothing her with gentle pats on the heaving shoulders, looked at +her mother, answering the other's defiant stare angrily. "Ah, cruel! +Cruel!" she said, presently. "And I know why. Oh, don't you feel that +we should do everything in our power for Mr. Farvel, and not act like +this? Haven't we Milos done enough to give him sorrow?" (It was +characteristic that she did not say "Wallace," but charged his +wrong-doing against the family.) "Here's our chance to be a little bit +decent. And now you attack her. But--it's not because you think she's +sinned: it's because you think I'm going--to the Rectory." + +Now Clare freed herself gently from Sue's embrace, lifting her head +wearily. "Oh, I might as well tell you both"--she looked at Farvel, +too--"that she's right about me. There have been--other things." + +Sue caught her hands. "Oh, then forget them!" she cried. "And +remember only that you're going to be happy again!" + +Clare hung her head. "But the lies," she reminded, under her breath. +"The lies. Felix, he won't forgive me. I _am_ engaged to him. And he +doesn't know that I've ever been married before. That's why I was so +scared when I saw--when I guessed Alan was at the Rectory. And why I +wanted to--to sneak a little while ago. Oh, I can't ever face Felix! +I--I've never even told him that Barbara is mine." + +"Let _me_ tell him.--And surely marriage and a daughter aren't crimes. +And he'll respect you for clinging to the child." + +"He knows I meant to desert her," Clare whispered back. "Oh, Miss +Milo, there's something wrong about me! I bore her. But I'm not her +mother. I never can be. Some women are mothers just naturally. Look +how those choir-boys love you! 'Momsey' they call you--'Momsey.' Ha! +They know a mother when they see one!" + +Mrs. Milo rocked violently, darting a scornful look at the little +group. "Disgusting!" she observed. + +The three gave her no notice. "You'll grow to love your baby," +declared Sue. "You can't help it. Just wait till you've got a +home--instead of a boarding-house. And trust us, and let us help you." + +A wan smile. "Ah, how dear and good you are!" breathed the girl. +"Will you kiss me?" + +"God love you!" Once more Sue caught the slender figure to her. + +"So good! So good!"--weeping. + +"Now no more tears! Let me see a smile!" Sue lifted the wet face. + +Clare smiled and turned away. "I'll finish in here," she said, and +went into the other room. + +Farvel made as if to follow, but turned back. "Ah, Sue Milo, you are +dear and good!" he faltered. Then coming to take her hand, "Your +tenderness to Laura--your thought of the child! Ah, you're a woman in +a million! How can I ever get on without you!" He raised her hand to +his lips, held it a moment tightly between both of his, and went out. + +Mrs. Milo had risen. Now she watched her daughter--the look Sue gave +Farvel, and the glance down at the hand just caressed. To the jealous +eyes of the elder woman, the clergyman's action, so full of tender +admiration, conveyed but one thing--such an attachment as she had +charged against Sue, and which now seemed fully reciprocated. With a +burst of her ever available tears, she dropped back into her chair. + +But the tears did not avail. For Sue stayed where she was. And her +face was grave with understanding. "Ah, mother," she said, with a +touch of bitterness. "I knew my happiness would make you happy!" + +"Laura!" It was Farvel, calling from the back-parlor. "Laura! Laura! +Where are you?" + +Sue met him as he rushed in. "What----?" + +"She's not there!" He ran to the hall door, calling as before. + +"She's gone?" Sue went the opposite way, to look from the rear +back-parlor window that commanded a small square of yard. + +Mrs. Milo ceased to weep. + +"Laura! Laura!" Farvel called up the stairs. + +"Hello-o-o-o!" sang back Tottie. + +"Laura! Laura!" Now Farvel was on the steps outside. He descended to +the sidewalk, turned homeward, halted, reconsidering, then hurried the +opposite way. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Hat in hand, and on tiptoe, Clare slipped from her room to the hall, +and down the stairs leading to the service-entrance beneath the front +steps. Her coat was over an arm, and a Japanese wrist-bag hung beside +it. As noiselessly as possible, she let herself out. Then bareheaded +still, but not too hurriedly, and forcing a pleasant, unconcerned +expression, she turned away from the brownstone house--going toward the +Rectory. + +Across the street, waiting under steps that offered him the right +concealment, a man was loitering. In the last hour he had seen a +number of people enter Tottie's, and five had left--the child and Mrs. +Colter, a fat man and a slim, and a quaint-looking girl with her hair +in pig-tails. He had stayed on till Clare came out; then as she fled, +but without a single look back, he prepared to follow. + +But he did not forsake his hiding-place until she had turned the first +corner. Then he raced forward, peered around the corner cautiously, +located her by the bobbing of her yellow head among other heads all +hatted, and fell in behind her at a discreet distance. + +Now she put on her hat--but without stopping. She adjusted her coat, +too. At the end of the block, she crossed the street and made a second +turn. + +Once more the man ran at top speed, and was successful in locating the +hat tilted so smartly. And again he settled down to the pace no faster +than hers. Thus the flight and the pursuit began. + +At first, Clare walked at a good rate, with her head held high. But +gradually she went more slowly, and with head lowered, as if she were +thinking. + +She did not travel at random. Her course was a northern one, though +she turned to right and left alternately, so that she traced a Greek +pattern. Presently, rounding a corner, she turned up the steps of a +house exteriorally no different from Tottie's, save for the changed +number on the tympanum of colored glass above its front door, and the +white card lettered in black in a front window--a card that marked the +residence as the headquarters of the Gramercy Club for Girls. + +Clare rang. + +The man came very near to missing her as she waited for the answering +of the bell. And it seemed as if she could not fail to see him, for +she looked about her from the top of the steps. When she was admitted, +he sat down on a coping to consider his next move. + +Twice he got up and went forward as it to mount the steps of the Club; +but both times he changed his mind. Then, near at hand, occupying a +neighboring basement, he spied a small shop. In the low window of the +shop, among hats and articles of handiwork, there swung a bird-cage. +He hurried across the street, entered the store, still without losing +sight of the steps of the Club, and called forward the brown-cheeked, +foreign-looking girl busily engaged with some embroidery in the rear of +the place. A question, an eager reply, a taking down of the canary, +and he went out, carrying the cage. + +Very erect he was as he strode back to the Club. Here was a person +about to go through with an unpleasant program, but virtuously +determined on his course. His jaw was set grimly. He climbed to the +storm-door, and rang twice, keeping his finger on the bell longer than +was necessary. Then, very deliberately, he adjusted his _pince-nez_. + +A maid answered his ring--a maid well past middle-age, with gray hair, +and an air of authority. She looked her displeasure at his prolonged +summoning. + +"Miss Crosby is here," he began; "I mean the young woman who just came +in." He was very curt, very military; and ignored the reproof in her +manner. "Please say that Mr. Hull has come." + +The maid promptly admitted him. + +But to make sure that he would not fail in his purpose to see +Clare--that she would not escape from the Club as quietly as she had +left Tottie's, he now lifted the bird-cage into view. "Tell Miss +Crosby that Mr. Hull has brought the canary," he added. + +"Very well,"--the servant went up the stairs at a leisurely pace that +was irritating. + +She did not return. Instead, Clare herself appeared at the top of the +staircase, and descended slowly, looking calmly at him as she came. +Her hat was off, and she had tidied her hair. Something in her manner +caused him to move his right arm, as if he would have liked to screen +the cage. She glanced at the bird, then at him. Her look disconcerted +him. His _pince-nez_ dropped to the end of its ribbon, and clinked +musically against a button. + +She did not speak until she reached his side. "I just called the +Northrups on the 'phone and asked for you," she began. + +"Oh?" He made as if to set the cage down. + +"You'd better bring it into the sitting-room," she said. + +"Yes." He reddened. + +The sitting-room of the Club was a full sister to that garish +front-parlor of Tottie's, but a sister tastefully dressed. The +woodwork was ivory. The walls were covered with silk tapestry in which +an old-blue shade predominated. The curtains of velvet, and the chairs +upholstered in the same material, were of a darker blue that toned in +charmingly with the walls. Oriental rugs covered the floor. + +"You need not have brought an--excuse," Clare observed, as she closed +the door to the hall. + +"Well, I thought," he explained, smiling a little sheepishly, "that +perhaps----" + +"Particularly," she interrupted, cuttingly, "as I remember how you said +a little while ago that you hate a liar." She lifted her brows. + +She had caught him squarely. The cage was a lie. He put it behind a +chair, where it would be out of sight. + +"Well, you see," he went on lamely, "if you hadn't wanted to see me, +why--why----" (Here he was, apologetic!) + +"Oh, I quite understand. It's always legitimate for a man to cheat a +woman, isn't it? It's not legitimate for a woman to cheat a man." She +seated herself. + +He winced. He had expected something so different--weeping, pleading, +the wringing of hands; or, a hidden face and heaving shoulders, and, of +course, more lies. Instead, here was only quiet composure, more +dignity of carriage than he had ever noted in her before, and a firmly +shut mouth. He had anticipated being hurt by the sobbing confessions +he would force from her. But her cool indifference, her +self-possession, were hurting him far more. Their positions were +unpleasantly reversed. And he was standing before her, as if he, and +not she, was the culprit! + +"Sit down, please," she bade, courteously. + +He sat, pulling at his mustache. Now he was getting angry. His look +roved beyond her, as he sought for the right beginning. + +"What I'd like to ask," he commenced, "is, are you prepared to tell me +all I ought to know--about yourself?" ("Tell me the truth" was what he +would have liked to say, but the confounded cage made impossible any +allusion to truth!) + +She smiled. "And I'd like to know, are you prepared to tell me +all--all I ought to know--about yourself?" + +"Oh, now come!" he returned--and could go no further. Here was more of +the unexpected: he was being put on the defensive! + +"You've been a soldier," she went on; "you've seen a lot of the world +before you met me. But you didn't recite anything you'd done. You +expected me to take you 'as is,' and I thought, naturally enough, that +that was the way you meant to take me." + +"But I don't see why a girl should know about matters in which she is +not concerned--which were a part of a man's past." + +"Exactly. And that's just the way I felt about matters in which you +were not concerned. But--I was wrong, wasn't I? You're not an +American. You're a European. And you have the Continental attitude +toward women--proprietorship, and so on." + +He stared. He had never heard her talk like this before. "Ah, um," he +murmured, still worrying the mustache. She was using no slang, and +that "Continental attitude"--his glance said, "Where did you come by +_that_?" + +"I've known all along that you had the Old World bias--the idea that it +is justice for the Pot to call the Kettle black--the idea that a man +can do anything, but that a woman is lost forever if she happens to +make one mistake. That all belongs, of course, right back where you +came from. No doubt your mother taught----" + +"Please leave my mother out of this discussion!" Here was something he +could say with great severity and dignity--something that would imply +the contrast between what Clare Crosby stood for and the high standards +of his mother, whose fame might not be tarnished even through the +mention of her name by a culpable woman. + +Clare laughed. "Early Victorian," she commented, cheerfully; "that +do-not-sully-the-fair-name-of-mother business. It's in your blood, +Felix,--along with the determination you feel never to change when once +you've made up your mind, as if your mind were something that has set +itself solid, as metal does when it's run into a mold." + +"Oh, indeed! Just like that!" + +She nodded. "Precisely. And when you make up your mind that someone +is wrong, or has hurt your vanity (which is worse), you are just +middle-class enough to love to swing a whip." + +He got up. "Pardon me if I don't care to listen to your opinion of me +any longer," he said. "It just happens that I've caught you at your +tricks today." + +"It just happens that you _think_ you've caught me--you've dropped to +that conclusion. But--do you know anything?" + +"Well--well,----" + +"You shall. Please sit down again. And feel that you were +justified--that I am really a culprit of some kind--just as you are." + +He sat, too astonished to retort--but too curious to take himself away. + +"Because I really want to tell you quite a little about myself." There +was a glint of real humor in her eyes. "And first of all, I want to +tell the real truth, and it'll make you feel a lot better--it'll soothe +your vanity." + +"You seem to have a rather sudden change in your opinion of me." He +tried to be sarcastic. And he leaned back, folding his arms. + +"Oh, no. I've always known that you were vain, and hard. But I didn't +expect perfection." + +"Ah." + +"But, first, let me tell you--when I left Tottie's just now, I thought +of the river. Suicide--that's what first came to my mind." + +"I'm very glad you changed it,"--this with almost a parental note. Her +mention of the river had soothed his vanity! + +"Oh, are you?" She laughed merrily. + +"And what brought about the--the----" + +"Sue Milo." + +"Er--who do you say?" He had expected a compliment. + +"A woman you don't know--a woman that you must have seen go into +Tottie's just after Barbara left--as you stood sentry." + +"Ah, yes." He had the grace to blush again. + +"She is the secretary at the Church near by--you know, St. Giles. She +keeps books, and answers telephones, and types sermons, and does all +the letters for the Rector--formerly my husband." + +An involuntary start--which he adroitly made the beginning of an assent. + +"I've met her only a few times. But I feel as if I'd known her all my +life. Oh, how dear _her_ attitude was!" Sudden tears trembled in her +eyes. + +"Different from mine, eh?" + +"Absolutely! It was the contrast between you and her that made me see +things as they are--twenty blocks, I walked--and such a change!" + +"Fancy!" + +"When I was thinking I might as well die, I said, 'If _he_ were in +trouble today, I'd be tender and kind to him. But when I cried out to +him, what I got was no faith--no help--only suspicion.' All my +devotion since I've known you--it counted for nothing the moment you +knew something was wrong. And I was half-crazy with fear just at the +thought of losing you." Her look said that she had no such fear now. + +He shifted his feet uneasily. + +"Then I said to myself, 'Why, you poor thing, it's only a question of +time when you'd lose him anyhow.' Even if we married, Felix, we +wouldn't be happy long. It would be like living over a charge of +dynamite. Any minute our home might blow up." + +He smiled loftily. "And Miss--er--What's-her-name, she fixed +everything?" + +"She helped me! I've never met anyone just like her before. I've met +plenty of the holier-than-thou variety. That's the only sort I knew +before I ran away from my husband." She was finding relief in talking +so frankly. "Then there's Tottie's kind--ugh! But Miss Milo is the +new kind--a woman with a fair attitude toward other women; with a +generous attitude toward mistakes even. That old lady you saw go +in--she's so good that she'd send me to the stake." She laughed. "But +her daughter--if she knew that I had sinned as much as you have, she'd +treat me even better than she'd treat you." + +"You'll be a militant next," he observed sneeringly. + +"Oh, I'm one already! But I'm not blaming anything on anybody else. +For whatever's gone wrong, I can just thank myself. All these ten +years, I've taken the attitude that I mustn't be discovered--that I +must hide, hide, hide. I have been living over a charge of dynamite, +and I set it myself. I've been afraid of a scarecrow that I dressed +myself. + +"I don't know why I did it. Because if they'd ever traced me, what +harm would it have done?--I wouldn't have gone back unless I was +carried by main force. But the papers said I was dead. So I just set +myself to keep the idea up. Next thing, I met you. Then I wasn't +afraid of a shadow--I had something real to fear: losing you. + +"But now I don't care what you think, or what you're going to do, or +what you say. I'm not even going to let Alan Farvel think that +Barbara's his--when she isn't." + +He shot a swift look at her. So! The child was her own, after all! +His lip curled. + +She understood. "Oh, get the whole thing clear while you're about it," +she said indifferently. "I'm not trying to cover. At least I didn't +lose sight of the child. Miss Milo praised me for that.--But--the +truth is, I'm not like most other women. I'm not domestic. I never +can be. Why worry about it." + +"You take it all very cool, I must say! And you're jolly sure of +yourself. Don't need help, eh? Highty-tighty all at once." But there +was a note of respect in his voice. + +"I've got friends," she said proudly. "And if I need help I know where +to get it." + +The maid entered. "Your tea is ready, Miss." + +Clare stood up and put out a hand. "We'll run across each other again, +I suppose," she said cordially. + +He could scarcely believe his ears--which were burning. "Oh, then +you're not lighting out?" + +"When I love little old New York so much? Not a chance! No, you can +go and get your supper without a fear." She laughed saucily. Then as +he turned, "Oh, don't forget the bird." + +He leaned down, hating her for the ridiculousness of his situation. He +did not glance round again. The gray-haired maid showed him out. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +With a sigh of relief, Mrs. Milo rose, adjusted her bonnet, and, to +make sure that her appearance justified her going out upon the street, +took up from the table that same hand-mirror which she had thrust +before Clare's face. "So she's gone," she observed. She turned her +head from side to side, delicately touching hair and bonnet, and the +lace at her throat. "Well, it's for the best, I've no doubt.--And now +we can go home." + +Sue did not move. She had come back from her quick survey of the rear +yard to stand at the center of the front room--to stand very straight, +her head up, her eyes wide and fixed on space, her face strangely white +and stern. + +"Susan?" Mrs. Milo took out and replaced a hairpin. + +Sue Stirred. "Do you mean to _his_ home?" she asked slowly. + +"I mean to the Rectory." The glass was laid back upon the table. + +"After what you've said?" + +"What I said was true." + +"Ah!--You believe in speaking--the truth?" + +"What a question, my daughter!"--fondly. + +"Even when the truth is bitter--and _hard_!" She trembled, and drew in +her breath at the remembrance of that scathing arraignment. + +"Shall we start?" + +"But he has asked you not to return. And it's you who have sent her +away. And the little one is coming. You can't go to the Rectory." + +"Oh, indeed?" queried Mrs. Milo, sarcastically. "And are you going?" + +Sue waited a moment. Then, "My work is there." + +Mrs. Milo started. "Now let me tell you something!" she cried, +throwing up her head. "You've disobeyed me once today----" + +Sue smiled. "Disobeyed!" she repeated. + +"--If you disobey me again--if you go back to the Rectory without +me----" + +"I shall certainly go back." + +"--You shan't have one penny of your father's life insurance! Not one! +I'll leave every cent of it to Wallace!" + +Again Sue smiled. "Ah, you're independent of me, aren't you?" + +"Quite--thank Providence!" + +"No. Thank me. All these years you've had that insurance money out +earning interest. You haven't had to use any of it, or even any of its +earnings----" + +"It has grown, I'm happy to say." + +"Until you have plenty. Meanwhile, I've paid all of your expenses, and +educated my brother. Now--you can dispense with--your meal-ticket." + +"_Meal_-ticket!" It was not the implied charge, but the slang, that +shocked. + +"Yes, meal-ticket." + +"So you throw it up! You've been supporting me! And helping Wallace!" + +"I've been glad to. Every hour at my machine has been a happy one. +I've never begrudged what I've done." + +"Well, anyhow, I shan't need to take any more support from you, nor +will my son." + +Sue laughed grimly. "I don't know about that, mother. I'm afraid he's +going to miss his chance to marry a rich girl. And he's never been +very successful in making his own way." + +Mrs. Milo would not be diverted from the main issue. "I repeat, Susan: +You disobey me, as you've threatened to, and I'm done with you. +Understand that. You'll go your way, and I will go mine." + +Sue nodded. She understood. Her mother had announced her ultimatum to +Farvel, and he had accepted it. Mrs. Milo could not return to the +Rectory. But if Sue continued her work there, it meant that she would +enjoy a happy companionship with the clergyman--a companionship +unhindered by the presence of the elder woman. Such a state of affairs +might even end in marriage. And now Sue knew it was marriage that her +mother feared. + +"Very well, mother." + +"Ah, you like the separation plan!" + +"We're as wide apart in our ideas as the poles." + +"I have certainly been very much mistaken in you. Though I thought I +knew my own daughter! But--you belong with the Farvels, and it's a +pity she has run away. Perhaps she'll turn up later on." She spoke +quietly, but she was livid with anger. "I shall not be there to +interfere with your friendship. I am going to the hotel now. You can +direct my poor boy to me, if it isn't too much trouble." + +"So you are going." Then smiling wistfully, "But who will fuss over +you when you're not sick? And coax you out of your nerves? And wait +on you like a lady's maid? And how will you be able to keep an eye on +me, mother? 'Who's telephoning you, Susan?' And 'Who's your letter +from, darling?'" Then with sarcasm, "Oh, hen-pecked Susan, is it +possible that you'll be able to go to Church without a chaperone? That +you can go down town without having to report home at half-hour +intervals?" + +"Well! Well! Well!" marveled Mrs. Milo. She walked to the window +before retorting further. Then, with a return to the old methods of +playing for sympathy, "And here I've thought that you were contented +and happy with me! But--it seems that your mother isn't enough." + +The attempt failed. "Was your mother enough?" demanded Sue. + +Mrs. Milo came strolling back. Was it possible that tactics invariably +efficacious in the past would utterly fail her today? She made a +second attempt. "But--but do you realize," she faltered, with what +seemed deep feeling; "--your father died when Wallace was so little. +If you hadn't helped me, how would I have gotten on? If you'd +married----" + +"Couldn't I have helped you?" + +"But I had Wallace so late. And I'd have been alone. What would I +have done without my daughter?" + +Sue was regarding her steadily. "What did your mother do without you? +And when you die, where shall _I_ be?--Alone! Ah, you've seen the +pathos of your own situation!--But how about mine?" For a second time +in a single day, this was a changed Sue, unaccountably clear-visioned, +and plain of speech. + +"Dear me!" cried her mother, mockingly. "Our eyes are open all of a +sudden!" + +"Yes,--my eyes are open." + +"Why not open your mouth?" + +"Thank you for the suggestion. I shall. For twenty-five years, my +eyes have been shut. I've always said, 'My mother is sweet, and pious, +and kind. She's one of that lovely type that's passing.' (Thank +Heaven, the type _is_ passing!) If now and then you were a little +severe with me--oh, I've noticed it because people have sometimes +interfered, as Hattie did this morning--I've never minded at all. I've +said, 'Whatever I am, I owe to my mother. And what she does is right.' +Anything you said or did to me never made any difference in the +wonderful feeling I had about you--the feeling of love and belief. All +this time I've never once thought of rebelling. But what you said and +did to another--to her, a girl who needs kindness and sympathy, who's +never done you an intentional wrong----! Oh, you're not really gentle +and charitable! You're cruel, mother!" + +"I am just." + +"The right kind of a woman today gives other women a chance for their +lives--their happiness. That is real piety. She makes allowances. +She's slow to condemn." + +"You don't have to tell me that loose standards prevail." + +Sue did not seem to hear. "All these years you've talked to me about +the home--the home with a capital H. Your home--which you'd 'kept +together'--the American home--wave the flag! And I've always believed +that you meant what you said. But today I understand your real +attitude. First, because you weren't willing to give that poor +cornered girl a chance at one. You intruded into her room and +deliberately drove her away." + +"She ran away once from a good home with a good man." She paid Farvel +the compliment unconsciously--and unintentionally. + +"Then consider my case,"--it was as if Sue were speaking to herself. +"Why haven't you given me a chance? For all these years, if a man +looked cross-eyed at me, was he ever asked to call on us?" + +"Such nonsense!" + +"If he did, somehow or other there was trouble. You would cry, and say +I didn't love you--or you pretended to find something wrong with him, +and he didn't come again. And once--once I remember that you claimed +that you were ill--though I think I guessed that you weren't--and away +we went for a change of air. Oh, peace at any price!" + +Mrs. Milo grew scarlet. "Ha!" she scoffed. "So _I'm_ to blame for +your not being married! I've stood in your way!" + +"Just think how you've acted today--the way you acted over this +dress--you can't bear to see me look well? Why?--Yes, you've stood in +my way from the very first." + +"I deny it! _You'd_ better look in the mirror." She picked it up and +held it out to Sue. "You know, you're not a sweet young thing." + +Sue took the glass, and held it before her, gazing sadly at her +reflection. "No," she answered. "But I can remember when I was +sweet--and young." She laid the mirror down. + +Mrs. Milo felt the necessity of toning her remarks. She spoke now with +no rancor--but firmly. "Your lack of judgment was excusable then," she +declared. "But now--this interest in any and every child--in Farvel, a +man younger than yourself--it's silly, Sue. It's disgusting--in an old +maid." + +"Any and every child," repeated Sue. "Oh, selfish! Selfish! Selfish!" + +"No one can accuse me of that! I've been trying to save you from +making yourself ridiculous." + +"To save me! Why, mother, you can't bear to see me give one hour to +those poor, deserted orphans. If I go over to see them, you go along. +And how many friends have I? Every thought I have must be for you! +you! you!" + +"I have exacted the attention that a mother should have." + +"And no more? But what about Wallace? Have you exacted the attention +from him that you should have? Does he owe you nothing? Why shouldn't +he spend what he earns in caring for his mother, instead of spending +every penny as he pleases? Is there one set of rules for daughters, +and another for sons? Why haven't you tied him up? Are you sure he's +capable, when he reaches Peru, of supporting a wife? Or will he simply +draw on Mr. Balcome--the way he's lived on me." + +"You ought to be ashamed to speak of your brother in such a way!" + +"How much more ashamed he ought to be to think that he's deserving of +such criticism." + +"I can't think what has come over you!" + +"It's what you said a moment ago: My eyes are opened. At eighteen +years of age, you planned your future for yourself. But you needed +me--so you claimed me, body and soul! And you've let me give you my +whole girlhood--my young womanhood. You've kept me single--and very +busy. And now,--I'm an old maid!" + +The blue eyes glinted with satisfaction. "Well, you are an old maid." + +"An old maid! In other words, my purity's a joke!" + +"Now, we're getting vulgar." + +"Vulgar? Have you forgotten what you said to Laura Farvel? You +taunted her because she's not 'good' as you call it. And you taunt me +because I am! But who is farther in the scheme of things--she or I? I +envy her because she's borne a child. At least she's a woman. Nature +means us to marry and have our little ones. The women who don't +obey--what happens to them? The years go"--she looked away now, beyond +the walls of Tottie's front-parlor, at a picture her imagining called +up--"the light fades from their eyes, the gloss from their hair; they +get 'peculiar.' And people laugh at them--and I don't wonder!" Then +passionately, "Look at me! Mature! Unmarried! Childless! Where in +Nature do I belong? Nowhere! I'm a freak!" + +"No, my dear." Mrs. Milo smiled derisively. "You're a martyr." + +"Yes! To my mother." + +"Don't forget"--the well-bred voice grew shrill--"that I _am_ your +mother." + +"You gave me birth. But--reproduction isn't motherhood." + +"Ah!"--mockingly. "So I haven't loved you!" + +"Oh, you've loved me," granted Sue. "You've loved me too much--in the +wrong way. It's a mistaken love that makes a mother stand between her +daughter and happiness." + +"I deny----" + +"Wait!--I got the proof today! I repeat--you forgot everything you've +ever stood for at the mere thought that happiness was threatening to +come my way." + +Mrs. Milo's eyes widened with apprehension. Involuntarily she glanced +at the hand which Farvel had lifted to kiss. + +"I ought to have known that my first duty was to myself," Sue went on +bitterly; "--to my children. But--I put away my dreams. And now! My +eyes are open too late! I've found out my mistake--too late! No +son--no daughter--'Momsey,' but never 'Mother.' And, oh, how my heart +has craved it all--a home of my own, and someone to care for me. And +my arms have ached for a baby!" + +"Ha! Ha!"--Mrs. Milo found it all so ridiculous. "A baby! Well,--why +don't you have one?" + +For a long moment, Sue looked at her mother without speaking. "Oh, I +know why you laugh," she said, finally. "I'm--I'm forty-five. +But--after today, _I'm_ going to do some laughing! I'm going to do +what I please, and go where I please! I'm free! I'm free at last!" +She cried it up to the chandelier. "From today, I'm free! This is the +Emancipation Proclamation! This is the Declaration of Independence!" + +Mrs. Milo moved away, smiling. At the door she turned. "What can you +do?" she asked, teasingly; "--at _your_ age!" + +Sue buttoned her coat over the bridesmaid's dress. "What can I do?" +she repeated. "Well, mother dear, just watch me!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +The Close was the favorite retreat of the Rectory household. In the +wintertime, it was a windless, sunny spot, never without bird-life, for +to it fared every sparrow of the neighborhood, knowing that the two +long stone benches in the yard would be plentifully strewn with crumbs, +and that no prowling cat would threaten a feathered feaster. + +With the coming of spring, the small inclosure was like a chalice into +which the sun poured a living stream. Here the lawn early achieved a +startling greenness as well as a cutable height; here a pair of peach +trees dared to put out leaves despite any pronouncement of the +calendar; and in the Close, even before open cars began their run along +the near-by avenue, a swinging-couch with a shady awning was installed +at one side; while opposite, beyond the sun-dial, and nearer to the +drawing-room, a lawn marquee went up, to which Dora brought both +breakfast and luncheon trays. + +The Close, shut in on its four sides, afforded its visitors perfect +privacy. The high blank wall of an office building, which had +conformed its architecture to that of the Church and the other +structures related to the Church, lifted on one hand to what--from the +velvet square of the little yard--seemed the very sky. Directly across +from the office building was the Rectory; and two windows of the +drawing-room, as well as two upper windows (the window of a guest-room +and the window of "the study") opened upon it. + +One face of the Church, ivy-grown and beautified with glowing eyes of +stained-glass, looked across the stretch of green to a high brick wall +which shut off the sights and sounds of the somewhat narrow and fairly +quiet street. It was over this wall that the peach trees waved their +branches, and in the late summer dropped a portion of their fruit. And +it was in this wall that there opened a certain door to the Close which +was never locked--a little door, painted a gleaming white, through +which the Orphanage babies came, to be laid in the great soft-quilted +basket that stood on a stone block beneath a low gable-roof of stone. + +On this perfect spring morning, the Close was transformed, for the +swinging-couch and the lawn marquee were gone, and a great wedding-bell +of hoary blossoms was in its place, hung above the wide flagstone which +lay before this side entrance to the Church. Flanking the bell on +either hand, flowers and greenery had been massed by the decorators to +achieve an altar-like effect. And above the bell, roofing the +improvised altar, was a canopy of smilax, as Gothic in design as the +vari-tinted windows to right and left. + +Discussing the unwonted appearance of their haunt and home, the +bird-dwellers of the Close flew about in some excitement, or alighted +on wall and ledge to look and scold. And fully as noisy as the +sparrows, and laboring like Brownies to set the yard to rights +following the departure of the florist and his assistant, a trio of +boys from the choir raked and clipped and garnered into a sack. + +Ikey was in command, and wielded the lawn mower. Henry, a tall +mild-eyed lad, selected for the morning's pleasant duty in the Close in +order to reward him for irreproachable conduct during the week +previous, snipped at the uneven blades about the base of the sun-dial. +The third worker was Peter, a pale boy, chosen because an hour in the +open air would be of more value to him than an hour at his books. + +"I tell you she iss _not_ a Gentile!" denied Ikey, who was arrogant +over being armed with authority as well as lawn mower. + +"She is so!" protested Henry, with more than his usual warmth. + +"I know she ain't!" + +"Aw, she is, too!" + +"I asks her, 'Momsey, are you a Gentile?'" went on Ikey. "Und she +answers to me, 'Ikey, I am all kinds of religions.'--_Now_!" + +"Ain't her mother a Gentile?" demanded Henry. + +"I'm glat to say it!" + +"And her father was." + +"Sure! Just go in und look at him!" + +"Then what's the matter with you! She's _got_ to be a Gentile!" + +Ikey recognized the unanswerableness of the argument. "Vell," he +declared stoutly, "I lof her anyhow!" + +A fourth boy leaned from a drawing-room window. "Telephone!" he called +down. + +"Ach! Dat telephone!" Ikey propped himself against the sun-dial. +"Since yesterday afternoon alretty, she rings und nefer stops! 'Vere +iss Miss Hattie?'--dat Wallace, he iss awful lofsick! 'I don't know.' +'Vere iss Miss Susan?' 'I don't know.' 'Vere iss my daughter?'--de +olt lady! 'I don't know.'--All night by dat telephone, I sit und lie!" + +"Ha! Ha!" Peter, the pale, seized the excuse to drop back upon the +cool grass. "How can you _sit_ and _lie_?" + +"Smarty, you're too fresh!" charged Ikey. "How can you sit und be +lazy? Look vat stands on dis sun-dial!--_Tempus Fugits_. Dat means, +'De morning iss going.' So you pick up fast all de grass bits by de +benches.--Und if somebody asks, 'Vere iss Mr. Farvel,' I says, 'I don't +know,' und dat iss de truth. Because he iss gone oudt all night, und +dat iss not nice for ministers." He shook his head at the lawn mower. + +"Say, a woman wants to talk with Mrs. Milo," reminded the boy who was +hanging out of the window. + +"She can vant so much as she likes," returned Ikey, mowing calmly. + +"Oo! You oughta heard her!--Shall I say she's gone?" + +"Say she's gone, t'ank gootness," instructed Ikey. And as the boy +precipitated himself backward out of sight, "Ach, dat's vat's wrong mit +dis world!--de mutter business. Mrs. Milo, Mrs. Bunkum, und your +mutter, und your mutter----" + +"Aw, my mother's as good as your mother!" boasted Henry, chivalrously. + +"Dat can't be. Because you nefer _hat_ a mutter--you vas left in dat +basket." He pointed. "Vasn't you? Und _my_ mutter"--proudly--"she +iss dead." + +Peter lifted longing eyes. "Gee, I wish _I_ had a mother." + +"A-a-a-ah!" Ikey waggled a wise head. "You kids, you vould like goot +mutters--und you git left in baskets. Und Momsey says dat lots of +times mutters dat _iss_ goot mutters, dey don't haf no children." Then +to Henry, who, like Peter, had seized upon an excuse for pausing in his +work, "Here! Git busy mit de shears! Ofer by de vall iss plenty +schnippin'." + +Henry tried flattery. "I like to hear y' talk," he confessed. + +"Ve-e-e-ell,--" Ikey was touched by this appreciation of his +philosophizing. + +"And I'm kinda tired." + +Now Ikey's virtuous wrath burst forth. He fixed the tall boy with a +scornful eye. "Oh, you kicker!" he cried. "You talk tired--und you do +like you please! Und you say Momsey so much as you vant to! Momsey! +Momsey! Momsey! Momsey!" Each time the lawn mower squeaked and +rattled its emphasis. "Und de olt lady, she iss gone!" + +All the sparrows watching the laboring trio from safe vantage points +now rose with a soft whirr of wings and a quick chorus of twitters as +Farvel opened the door from the Church and came out. A long black gown +hung to his feet, but this only served to accentuate the paleness of +his newly-shaven cheeks. "Ah, fine!" he greeted kindly; "the yard is +beginning to look first-class." Then as the bearer of the telephone +message now projected himself once more between the curtains of the +drawing-room, this time to proffer a package, "Not for me, is it, my +boy?--Get it, Ikey, please." He sat down wearily. + +Ikey moved to obey, squinting back over a shoulder at the clergyman in +some concern. But the package in hand, he puzzled over that instead as +he came back. "It says on it 'Mr. Farvel,'" he declared. "Ain't it +so?" + +"Open it, old chap," bade Farvel, without looking up. + +Ikey needed no urging; and, his companions, once again welcoming an +interruption, gathered to watch. Off came a paper wrapping, disclosing +a box. Out came the cover of the box, disclosing--in a gorgeous +confection of silk, lace, and tulle, with flowers in her flaxen hair, +and blue eyes that were alternately opening and shutting with almost +human effect as Ikey moved the box--a large and remarkably handsome +lady doll. + +"_Oy, ich chalesh!_" cried Ikey, thrown back upon his Yiddish in the +amazement of discovery. + +Farvel sprang up, manifestly embarrassed, reached for the box, and put +it out of sight behind him as he sat again. "Oh!--Oh, that's all +right," he stammered. "It's for Barbara." + +"Bar-bar-a?" drawled the boy. Then following a pause, during which the +trio exchanged glances, "A little girl, she comes here?" + +"Yes, Ikey; yes.--Have you boys dusted the drawing-room? You know +Dora's not here today." + +"No, sir." Peter and Henry backed dutifully toward the door of the +Rectory. + +But Ikey stood his ground. "Does de little girl come by de basket?" he +inquired. + +"No, son; no. Dora will bring her.--Now run along like a good chap." + +Ikey backed a few steps. "Does--does she come to de Orphanage?" he +persisted. + +"No. She's not an orphan.--You see that Peter and Henry put everything +in shape, won't you?" + +At this, Peter and Henry disappeared promptly. But Ikey only backed +another step or two. "Den she's got a mutter?" he ventured. + +"Oh, yes--yes.--Be sure and dust the library." + +Ikey gave way another foot. "Und also a fader?" + +"Er--why--yes." + +Now Ikey nodded, and turned away. "He ain't so sure," he observed +sagely, "aboudt de fader." + +At this moment, loud voices sounded from the drawing-room--Henry's, +expostulating; next, the thin soprano of Peter; then a woman's, "Where +is he, I say? I want to see him!" And she came bursting from the +house, almost upsetting Ikey. + +It was Mrs. Balcome, looking exceedingly wrathful. She puffed her way +across the grass, clutching to her the unfortunate Babette, and +dragging (though she had just arrived) at the crumpled upper of a long +kid glove, much as if she were pulling it on preparatory to a fight. +"Mr. Farvel,"--he had risen politely--"I have come to take away the +presents and other things belonging to us. Since you have seen fit to +turn my best friend out of her home, naturally the wedding cannot be +solemnized here." + +Farvel bowed, reddening with anger. "Wallace Milo's wedding cannot be +solemnized here," he said quietly. + +"_In_-deed!" + +Ikey had entered with another box. She received it, scolding as she +put down the dog and pulled at the fastening of the package. "Oh, such +lack of charity! Such shameless lack of ordinary consideration! What +do you care that the wedding must take place at some hotel! And you +know these decorations won't keep! And it's a clergyman who's showing +such a spirit! That's what makes it more terrible! A man who +pretends----" Busy with the box, she had failed to see that Farvel was +no longer present. Now she whirled about, looking for him. "Oh, such +impudence! Such impudence!" she stormed. + +Ikey indicated the package. "De man, he said, 'Put it on ice,'" he +cautioned. + +"Ice?" Mrs. Balcome stared. "What's in it?" + +"It felt like somet'ing for a little girl." + +With a muttered exclamation, she threw the box upon the grass. "Is +Miss Susan here?" she demanded. + +"I don't know." Ikey's eyes were clear pools of truth. + +"Have my daughter and her father arrived yet?" + +"I don't know." + +"Well, have they telephoned?" Mrs. Balcome strove to curb her rising +irritation. + +"I don't know." + +Patience could bear no more. "What's the matter with you?" she cried. +"Don't you know anything?" + +"Not'ing," boasted Ikey. "I promised, now, dat I vouldn't, und I keep +my vord!" + +Mrs. Balcome seized him by a sleeve of his faded blue waist. "You +promised who?" she screeched, forgetting grammar in her anger. "I'll +report you to Mrs. Milo, that's what I'll do! How dare----" + +A hearty voice interrupted. "Good-morning, my boy! Good-morning!" +Balcome grinned broadly, pleased at this opportunity of contrasting his +cordiality with the harshness of his better half. + +Ikey was not slow in recognizing opportunity either. "Goot-mornin'," +he returned, ostentatiously rubbing an arm. + +"Is Miss Milo at home?" inquired Balcome, with exaggerated politeness, +enjoying the evident embarrassment of the lady present, who--not unlike +Lot's wife--had suddenly turned, as it were, into a frozen pillar. + +"I don't know," chanted Ikey. + +"Well, is Mr. Farvel at home?" + +Now, Ikey stretched out weary hand. "Oh, please," he begged, "_don't_ +make me lie no more!" + +"Ha-a-a-a?" cried Balcome. + +"_What?_" exclaimed Mrs. Balcome. + +Ikey nodded, shaking that injured finger. "To lie ain't Christian," he +reminded slyly. + +Balcome guffawed. But Mrs. Balcome, visited with a dire thought, +looked suddenly concerned. + +"Tell me:"--she came heaving toward Ikey once more; "did my +daughter stay last night with her father?" And as Ikey +stared, not understanding the system of family telephoning, +"Did--my--daughter--stay--last--night--with--her--father?" + +"But vy ask me?" complained Ikey. "Let him lie! Let him!" And he +started churchward. + +"Wait!" Balcome was bellowing now. "Where is my daughter?" + +"Didn't she stay with her father?" repeated Mrs. Balcome. + +"Didn't she stay with her mother?" cried Balcome. + +Ikey did not need to reply. For one question had answered the other. +With an "Oh! Oh!" of apprehension, Mrs. Balcome sank, a dead weight, +to a bench. + +"Where is she, I say? Where is she?" Now Balcome had the unfortunate +Ikey by a faded blue sleeve. He shook him so that all the curls on his +head bobbed madly. "Open your mouth!" + +"I don't know!" denied Ikey, desperately. + +"Good Heavens!" Balcome let him go, and paced the grass, clutching off +his hat and pounding at a knee with it. + +"Oh, what has happened! What has happened!" Mrs. Balcome rocked in +her misery. "Oh, and we had words last night--bitter words! Oh!" + +At this juncture, out from between the drawing-room curtains Henry +appeared, balancing himself on his middle, and handed down still +another package. Ikey ran to receive it, and as if to silence the +mourning with which the Close resounded, hastened to thrust the package +into the lap of the unhappy lady on the bench. + +The result was to increase Mrs. Balcome's sorrow. "Oh, my poor +Hattie!" she wept. "My poor child!" She pulled at the cord about the +bundle, and Balcome halted behind her to look on. "Here is another +gift for her wedding! Oh, how pitiful! How pitiful! A present from +someone who loves her! Who thought the dear child would be happy! +Something sweet and dainty"--the wrapping paper was torn off by +now--"to brighten her new home! Something----" + +A cover came off. And there, full in Mrs. Balcome's sight, lay a +good-sized, and very rosy Kewpie--blessed with little raiment but many +charms. + +"Baa-a-a-ah!"--a gesture of disgust, and the Kewpie was cast upon the +lawn. + +Wallace came hurrying from the house. He looked more bent than usual, +and if possible more pale. His clothes indicated that he had slept in +them. + +Balcome charged toward him. "Where's my daughter?" he asked, with a +head-to-foot look, much as if he suspicioned the younger man with +having Hattie concealed somewhere about him. + +"Wallace!" Mrs. Balcome held out stout arms to the newcomer. + +Wallace went to her. "I tried and tried to telephone her," he +answered. "And they told me they don't know where she is. So I've +come.--Oh, is it all right? What does she say? I want to see her!" + +"She's gone!" informed Balcome, his voice hollow. + +"She's gone! She's gone!" echoed Mrs. Balcome. She shook the stone +bench. + +"_Gone?_" Wallace clapped a hand to his forehead. + +"She's wandered away!" sobbed Mrs. Balcome. "Half-crazed with it all! +Heart-broken! Heart-broken!" + +With a muffled growl, Balcome once more fell upon Ikey, who had been +watching and listening from a discreet distance. "Where is Miss Milo, +I say!" he demanded as he swooped. + +But Ikey's determination did not fail him, though his teeth chattered. +"I--I--d-d-don't know!" he protested for the tenth time. + +"Oh, terrible! Terrible!"--this in a fresh burst from Mrs. Balcome. +"Oh, what did I say what I did for!" + +"Don't cry! Don't cry!" comforted Wallace. "We'll hunt for her. +Police, and detectives----" + +A crash of piano notes interrupted from the drawing-room. Then through +open door and windows floated the first bars of "Comin' Thro' the +Rye"--with an accompaniment in rag-time. As one the group in the Close +turned toward the house. + +"Hattie?" exclaimed Mrs. Balcome. + +"Hattie!" faltered Wallace. + +"Hattie!"--it was a crisp bass summons from Hattie's father. + +Hattie put her head out at the door. "Good-morning, mother!" she +called cheerily. "Good-morning, dad! Good-morning,--Wallace." + +"Where did you spend last night?" asked Mrs. Balcome, rising. Anger +took the place of grief, for Hattie was wearing an adorable house frock +culled from her trousseau--a frock combined of rose voile and French +gingham. And such a selection on this particular morning---- + +Hattie sauntered to the sun-dial. "Last night?" She pointed to that +upper guest-room window. + +Her mother was shocked. "You don't mean to tell me that you slept +_here_!" + +"When the telephone wasn't ringing,"--whereat Ikey grinned. + +"You slept here _unchaperoned_?" + +"Oh, Sue was home." + +"Oh, what's the matter with you, Hattie? You're not like other girls!" + +"Well, have I been raised like other girls?" + +At this, Mrs. Balcome became fully roused. "You'll pack your things +and come right out of that house!" she cried. "Do you hear me?" + +"Yes, mother.--Ikey dear, find Mr. Farvel and tell him his breakfast is +ready." Then with a proprietary air, "And Miss Balcome says he must +eat it while it's hot." + +Wallace straightened, his face suddenly flushing. + +"Dear me, aren't we concerned about Mr. Farvel's breakfast!" exclaimed +Mrs. Balcome, mockingly. + +"We are." + +"But not a word for this poor boy. One would think you were going to +marry Farvel instead of Wallace." + +"But--am I going to marry Wallace?" + +Wallace swayed toward her. "Oh, you can't--you _can't_ turn me down!" + +"Ah, Wallace!" she said sadly. + +"Mrs. Balcome, _you_ don't think I deserve this?" + +"Now don't be hasty, Hattie," advised her mother. "Everything's ready. +Our friends are coming. Are you going to send them away?" + +"Messages have gone--to tell everyone not to come." + +"Oh!" Wallace turned away, his head sunk between his shoulders. + +"What will Buffalo think of you!" cried Mrs. Balcome. + +"Buffalo," answered Hattie, "will have a chance to chatter about me, +and that will give you and dad a rest." + +"Are you going to send back all those beautiful wedding presents?" + +Balcome, relieved of his worry over Hattie, had been strolling about, +pulling at a cigar. Now he greeted this last question with a roar of +laughter. "Oh, Hattie, can you beat it! Oh, that's a good one!" + +Mrs. Balcome fixed him with an angry eye. "Doesn't he show what he +is?" she inquired. "To laugh at such a time!" + +"Beautiful wedding presents!" went on Balcome. "Oh, ha! ha! ha!" + +"No sentiment!" added his wife. "No feeling!" + +Hattie appealed to Wallace. "Oh, haven't I had my share of +quarreling?" she asked plaintively. + +"But we wouldn't quarrel!" + +"Oh, yes, we would. I'd remember--and then trouble. I'd always feel +that you and----" + +"Hattie!" warned her mother. "You can't discuss that matter." + +"Why not?" + +"You ask that! Doesn't your good taste--your modesty--tell you that +it's not proper?" + +"Oh!--I mustn't discuss it. But if Wallace and I were to marry at +twelve o'clock today, we could discuss it at one o'clock--and quarrel!" + +"Mr. Balcome!" entreated Wallace. + +Balcome deposited his cigar ashes on the sun-dial. "My boy," he said, +"if a man has to dodge crockery because his wife's jealous about +nothing, what'll it be like if she's got the goods on him?" + +"There he goes!" triumphed Mrs. Balcome. "It's just what I expected!" +And to Hattie, who was admiring the Kewpie, "Put that down!" Then to +Wallace, "Oh, she gets more like her father every day! Now drop +that!"--for Hattie, having let fall the Kewpie, had picked up the +flaxen-haired doll. "Wallace, she never came to this decision alone!" + +"Alan Farvel!" accused Wallace, hotly. + +Hattie turned on him. "You--you dare to say that!" + +"Oh, I knew you'd stick up for him! You like him." + +"He's good! He's fine, and big! He's a man!--and a clean man." + +"_I_ meant Sue Milo." Mrs. Balcome interposed her bulk between them. + +"She's not to blame!" defended Hattie. "On the contrary--she wouldn't +let me decide quickly. We talked about it 'way into the night." + +Balcome twitched a rose voile sleeve. "Don't mind her, Hattie," he +counseled. "That's the kind of wild thing she says about me." + +"Can you deny that Susan has influenced you?" persisted Mrs. Balcome. +"Can you truthfully say--_Oh_!" For over the wall, and over the little +white door, had come a large, gay-striped rubber ball. It Struck the +grass, bounced, and came rolling to Mrs. Balcome's feet. + +"Here she is!" whispered Balcome. + +"_Sneaking_ in!" accused his wife. + +Now, the white door swung wide to the sound of motor chugging, and a +hop came trundling across the lawn. Next, Sue appeared, backing, for +her arms were full of bundles. She dropped one or two as she came. +"Oh, there you go again!" she laughed. "Oh, butter-fingers!" + +"Goo-oo-ood-morning!" began Mrs. Balcome, portentously. + +Sue turned a startled face over a shoulder. And at once she was only a +small girl caught in naughtiness. "Oh,--er--ah--good-morning," she +stammered. "I--er--I've got everything but the kitchen stove." She +made to a bench and let all her purchases fall. "Mrs. +Balcome,--how--how is mother?" + +"You care a lot about your poor mother!" retorted Mrs. Balcome. +"You'll send her gray hairs in sorrow to the grave!" + +Balcome winked at Sue. "Hebrews, ten, thirty-six," he reminded +roguishly. "'For ye have need of patience.'" + +"Well, dear lady, just what have I done?" Sue sank among the packages. + +"I say you're responsible for this--this unfortunate turn of affairs." + +"If you'd only let things alone yesterday," broke in Wallace; "if you'd +stayed at home, and minded your own affairs." + +"So you could have deceived Hattie." + +"No! You've no right to call it deception. That's one of your +new-woman ideas. This is something that happened long ago, before I +ever met Hattie--and it's sacred----" + +Hattie burst out laughing. "Sacred!" she cried. "Of course--an affair +with the wife of your host!" + +"Hattie!" warned Mrs. Balcome. + +But Hattie ignored her mother. "What a disgusting argument!" she went +on. "What a cowardly excuse!" + +Matters were taking a most undesirable turn. To change their course, +Mrs. Balcome swung round upon Sue. "Why did you send Dora for that +child?" + +"What has the poor child to do with it?" + +"Ah! You see, Wallace? It was all done purposely. So that Hattie +would decide against you. What does Susan Milo care that you'll be +mortified? That Hattie's life will be spoiled?" (Hattie smiled.) +"That I'll have to explain and lie?" + +"Ha! Ha!--Lie!" chuckled Balcome. + +"Don't you see that she's not thinking of you, Hattie? That you'll +have to pack up and go home?--Oh, it's dreadful! Dreadful!" + +"Yes," answered Hattie. "It would be dreadful--to have to go home." + +Mrs. Balcome did not seem to hear. She was waving a hand at the +bundles. "And what, may I ask, are all these?" + +"These?" + +"You heard me." + +"Well, this--for, oh, she must have the best welcome that we can give +her, the darling!--this----" + +"All cooked up for Mr. Farvel's benefit, I suppose," interjected Mrs. +Balcome. + +"Of course. Who cares anything about the child!" Sue laughed. + +"Oh, your mother has told me of your aspirations,"--this with scornful +significance. + +"Mm!--This is socks--oh, such cunning socks--with little turnover cuffs +on 'em!" Sue's good-humor was unshaken. "And this is sash ribbon. +And this is roller skates." She lifted one package after the other. +"And a game. And a white rabbit. And a woolly sheep--it winds up!" +She gave it to Hattie. "And a hat--with roses on it! And rompers--I +do hope she's not too big for rompers! These are blue, with a white +collar. And 'Don Quixote'--fine pictures--it'll keep. And look!"--it +was a train of cars. "Isn't it a darling? I could play with it +myself! Just observe that smokestack! And--well, she can give it to +her first beau. And, behold, a lizard! Its picture is on the box!" +She waved it. "Made in the U. S. A.!" + +Mrs. Balcome had been watching with an expression not so irritable as +it was wearied. "You are pathetic!" she said finally. "Simply +pathetic!" + +"Look!" invited Sue, holding up a duck. "It quacks!" + +But Mrs. Balcome had turned on Hattie, and caught the sheep from her +hand. "You!" she scolded; "--for the child of that--that----" + +Hattie held up a warning finger. "Don't criticize the lady before +Wallace," she cautioned. + +Slowly Wallace straightened, and came about. "Well," he said quietly, +"I guess that's the end of it." He went to Sue, holding out a hand. +"Sue, I'm going----" + +"Go to mother, Wallace. I'll see you later." + +"Hattie! Hattie!" importuned her mother. "Tell him not to go!" + +"No," said Hattie, firmly. "I was willing to do something wrong--and +all this has saved me from it. I've never cared for Wallace the right +way. He knows it. I was only marrying him to get away from home." + +"Hear that!" cried Mrs. Balcome. + +"No,--you don't love me," agreed Wallace. + +"I don't believe I've ever loved you," the girl went on; "only--believe +me!--I didn't know it till--till I came here." + +"I understand." Out of a pocket of his vest he took a ring--a narrow +chased band of gold. "Will--will you keep this?" he asked. "It was +for you." + +"Some other woman, Wallace, will make you happy." She made no move to +take the ring, only backed a step. + +Quickly Sue put out her hand. "Let me take it, dear brother. And try +not to feel too bad." She had on a long coat. She dropped the ring +into a pocket. + +"And, Sue, I want to tell you"--he spoke as if they were alone +together--"that I'm ashamed of what I said to you yesterday--that +you're quick to think wrong. You're not. And you were right. And +you're the best sister a man ever had." + +"Never mind," comforted Sue. "Never mind." + +He tried to smile. "This--this is chickens coming home to roost, isn't +it?" he asked; turned, fighting against tears, and with a smothered +farewell entered the house. + +Mrs. Balcome wiped her eyes. "Oh, poor Wallace! Poor boy!" she +mourned. And to Sue, "I hope you're satisfied! You started out +yesterday to stop this wedding--your own brother's wedding!--and you've +succeeded. I can't fathom your motives--except that some women, when +they fail to land husbands of their own, simply hate to see anybody +else have one. It's the envy of the--soured spinster." + +Sue was busily arranging the toys. "So I can't land a husband, eh?" +she laughed. + +"But your mother tells me that you're championing the unmarried +alliance," went on Mrs. Balcome. + +"You mean Laura Farvel, of course. Well, not exactly. You see, +neither mother nor I know anything against Mrs. Farvel except what Mrs. +Farvel has said herself. But one thing is certain: even an unmarried +alliance, as you call it, is more decent than a marriage without love." + +"Oh, slam!" Balcome exploded in pure joy. + +"How dare you!" cried Mrs. Balcome, dividing an angry look between her +husband and Sue. + +"And," Sue went on serenely, "when it comes to that, I respect an +unmarried woman with a child fully as much as I do a married woman with +a poodle." + +"Wow!" shouted Balcome. + +"I think," proceeded Mrs. Balcome, suddenly mindful of the existence of +her own poodle, and looking calmly about for Babette, "I think that you +have softening of the brain." + +"Well,"--Sue was tinkering with the smoke-stack--"I'd rather have +softening of the brain than hardening of the heart." + +"Isn't she funny?" demanded Balcome, to draw his wife's fire. "She +doesn't dare to stand up for Wallace you'll notice, Sue,--though she'd +like to. But she can't because she's raved against that kind of thing +for years. So she has to abuse somebody else." + +"There's a man for you!" cried his better half. "To stand by and hear +his own wife insulted!--the mother of his child--and join in it! How +infamous! How base!" + +Satisfied with results, Balcome consulted his watch. "Well, I'm a busy +man," he observed, and kissed Hattie. + +"Where is your father going?" demanded Mrs. Balcome. + +"Where is father going?" telephoned Sue, taking off hat and coat. + +"Buffalo." + +Mrs. Balcome threw up the hand that was not engaged with the dog. "Oh, +what shall we say to Buffalo!" she said tragically. "Oh, how can I +ever go back!" + +"Mr. Balcome, do you want to settle on some explanation?" + +"Advise Hattie's mother"--Balcome shook a warning finger--"that for a +change she'd better tell the truth." + +"Oh!"--the shot told. "As if I don't always tell it--always!" Then to +Sue, "Suppose we say that the bridegroom is sick?" + +Inarticulate with mirth, Balcome gave Sue a parting pat on the shoulder +and started away. + +"But, John!" + +Astounded at being thus directly addressed, and before he could bethink +himself not to seem to have heard, Balcome brought short, silently +appealing to Sue for her opinion of this extraordinary state of affairs. + +For Sue knew. There was only one thing that could have so moved Mrs. +Balcome. "Lady dear," she inquired pleasantly, "how much money do you +want?" + +"Oh, four hundred will do." And as Balcome dove into a capacious +pocket and brought forth a roll, which Sue handed to her, "One hundred, +two hundred,--three--four----" She counted in a careful, inquiring +tone which implied that Balcome might have failed to hand over the sum +she suggested. "And now, Hattie, get your things together. We want to +be gone by the time that child comes." + +"Oh, mother," returned Hattie, crossly, "you're beginning to treat me +exactly as Mrs. Milo treats Sue." + +No argument followed. For at this moment a door banged somewhere in +the Rectory, then came the sound of running feet; and Mrs. Milo's +voice, shrill with anger, called from the drawing-room: + +"Susan!" + +"Mother?" said Sue. + +Hattie and her father gravitated toward each other in mutual sympathy. +Then joined forces in a defensive stand behind Sue. + +"Now, you'll catch it, Miss Susan!" promised Mrs. Balcome. "Here's +someone who'll know how to attend to you!" + +"My dear friend," answered Sue, "since early yesterday afternoon, +here's a person that's been calling her soul her own." + +"Susan!"--the cry was nearer, and sharp. + +With elaborate calmness, Sue took up the Kewpie, seated herself, and +prepared to look as independent and indifferent as possible. + +"Susan!--Oh, help!" + +It brought Sue to her feet. There was terror in the cry, and wild +appeal. + +The next moment, white-faced, and walking unsteadily, Mrs. Milo came +from the drawing-room. "Oh, help me!" she begged. "I didn't tell her +anything! I didn't! I didn't! How could she find us! That terrible +woman!" She made weakly to the stone bench that was nearest, and +sat--as Tottie followed her into sight and halted in the doorway, +leaning carelessly. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Miss Mignon St. Clair was a lady of resource. Given a telephone +number, and a glimpse of a gentleman who was without doubt of the +cloth, and she had only to open the Classified Telephone Directory at +"Churches," run down the list until she came to the number Mrs. Milo +had given her, and the thing was done. She disregarded Ikey's repeated +"I don't knows" over the wire, donned an afternoon dress for her +morning's work (Tottie was ever beforehand with the clock in the matter +of apparel), and set forth for the Rectory, arriving--by very good +fortune--as Mrs. Milo herself was alighting out of a taxicab. + +Now she grinned impudently at the group in a the Close. "How-dy-do, +people!" she hailed. "--Well, nobody seems to know me today! I'll +introduce myself--Miss Mignon St. Clair." She bowed. Then to the +figure crouched on the bench, "Say, how about it, Lady Milo?" + +"Oh, you must go!" cried Mrs. Milo, rising. "You must! I'll see +you--I promise--but go!" + +Tottie came out. "Oh, wa-a-ait a minute! Why, you ain't half as +hospitable as I am. I entertained the bunch of you yesterday, and let +you raise the old Ned." She sauntered aside to take a look at the dial. + +"Oh! Oh!" Mrs. Milo dropped back to the bench, shutting out the sight +of her visitor with both trembling hands. + +Sue went to stand across the dial from Tottie. "What can we do for +you?" she asked pleasantly. + +Tottie addressed Mrs. Milo. "Your daughter's a lady," she declared +emphatically. And to Sue, "Nothin' 's been said about squarin' with +me." + +"Squaring?" + +"Damages." + +"Damages?"--more puzzled than ever. + +But Balcome understood. He advanced upon Tottie, shaking a fist. "You +mean blackmail!" + +"Now go slow on that!" counseled Tottie, dangerously. "I aim to keep a +respectable house." + +"And I'm sure you do," returned Sue, mollifyingly. + +It warmed Tottie into a confidence. "Dearie," she began, "I room the +swellest people in the whole perfession. That's why I'm so mad. Here +I took in that Clare Crosby. And what did she do to me?--'Aunt Clare!' +Think of _me_ swallerin' such stuff! Well, you bet I'm goin' to let +Felix Hull know all there is to know, and--the kid is big enough to +understand." + +Now Sue put out a quick hand. "Ah, but you haven't the heart to hurt a +child!" + +"Haven't I! You just wait till I have my talk with her 'Aunt Clare'!" + +"We haven't been able to locate her." + +Tottie's face fell. "No? Then I know a way to git even, and to git my +pay. There's the newspapers--y' think they won't grab at this?" She +jerked her red head toward the wedding-bell. "Just a 'phone, 'Long +lost wife is found, or how a singer broke up a weddin'.'" + +"Oh, no!" Hattie raised a frightened face to that upper window of the +study. + +"By Heaven!" stormed Balcome, stamping the grass. + +"Now, I know you're joking!" declared Sue. "Yes, you are!" + +"Yes, I _ain't_!" + +"Ah, you can't fool me! No, indeed! You wouldn't think of doing such +a thing--a woman who stands so high in her profession!" + +Tottie's eyelids fluttered, as if at a light too brilliant to endure; +and she caught her breath like one who has drunk an over-generous +draught. "Aw--er--um." Her hand went up to her throat. She +swallowed. Then recovering herself, "Dearie, you're not only a lady, +but you're discernin'--that's the word!--discernin'." She laid a hand +appreciatively on Sue's arm. + +Sue patted the hand. "Ha-ha!" she laughed. "I could see that you were +acting! The very first minute you came through that door--'That woman +is an artist'--that's what I said to myself--'a great artist---in her +line.' For you can _act_. Oh, Miss St. Clair, _how_ you can act!" + +Tottie seemed to grow under the praise, to lengthen and to expand. +"Well, I do flatter myself that I have talent," she conceded. "I've +played with the best of 'em. And as I say,----" + +"Exactly," agreed Sue. "Now, what _I_ was about to remark was this: +We're thinking very seriously of traveling--several of us--yes. And +before we go, I feel that I'd like you to have a small token of my +appreciation of what you've done for--for Miss Crosby--a small token to +an artist----" + +"Dearie," interrupted Tottie, "I couldn't think of it." + +"Oh, just a little something--for being so kind to her." + +"Not a cent. Y' know, I've got a steady income--yes, alimony. I'm +independent. And it's so seldom that us artists _git_ appreciated. +No; as I say, not a cent.--And now, I'll make my exit. It's been a +real pleasure to see you again." She backed impressively. + +"The pleasure's all mine," declared Sue. "Good-by!" + +"O-revour!" returned Tottie, elegantly. She bowed, swept round, and +was gone. + +Mrs. Milo uncovered her face. + +Balcome chuckled. "My dear Sue," he said, "when it comes to diplomacy, +our United States ambassador boys have nothing on you!" + +"Oh, don't give me too much credit," Sue answered. "You know, people +are never as bad as they pretend to be. Now even you and Mrs. +Balcome--why, I've come to the conclusion that you two enjoy a good +row!" + +"Ah, that reminds me!" declared Balcome. "You spoke just now of +traveling. And I think there's a devil of a lot in that travel idea." + +"Brother Balcome!" exclaimed Mrs. Milo, finding relief from +embarrassment in being shocked. + +"Don't call me Brother!" he cried. "--Sue, ask Mrs. B. if she wouldn't +like to get away to Europe.--And you could go with her, couldn't you?" +This to Mrs. Milo, before whose eyes he held up a check-book. "What +would you say to five thousand dollars?" + +The sight of that check-book was like a tonic. Mrs. Milo smiled--and +rose, setting her bonnet straight, and picking at the skirt of her +dress. + +"What do you think, Sue?" asked Balcome. + +Sue considered. "They could go a long way on five thousand," she +returned mischievously. + +"And I need a change," put in her mother; "--after twenty years of--of +widowed responsibility." + +Balcome waxed enthusiastic. "I tell you, it's a great idea! You two +ladies----" + +"Leisurely taking in the sights," supplemented Sue. + +"That's the ticket!" He opened the check-book. "First, England." + +"Then France." Sue was the picture of demureness. + +"Then the trenches!" Balcome winked. + +"Italy is lovely," continued Sue, wickedly. + +"Egypt--for the winter!" Balcome's excitement mounted as he saw his +wife farther away. + +"And there's the Holy Land." + +This last was a happy suggestion. For Mrs. Milo turned to Mrs. +Balcome, clasping eager hands. "Ah, the Holy Land!" she cried. +"Palestine! The Garden of Eden!" + +Mrs. Balcome listened calmly. But she did not commit herself. At some +thought or other, she pressed Babette close. + +"Yes!" Balcome took Mrs. Milo's elbow confidentially. "And think of +Arabia!" + +"India!"--it was Sue again. + +"China!" added Balcome. + +"Japan!" + +"The Phil----" + +"Look out now! Look out!" + +"What's the matter?" + +"Matter? You're coming up the other side!" + +But Mrs. Milo was blissfully unaware of this bit of byplay. "Do you +think Mrs. Balcome and I could make such an extended trip on five +thousand?" she asked. + +"Well, I'll raise the ante!--_ten_ thousand." Balcome took out a +fountain-pen. + +"Oh, think of it!" raved Mrs. Milo, ecstatically. "The dream of my +life!--Europe! Africa! Asia!--Dear Mrs. Balcome, what do you say?" + +"We-e-e-ell," answered Mrs. Balcome, slowly, "can I take Babette?" + +In his eagerness, Balcome addressed her direct. "Yes! Yes! I'll buy +Babette a dog satchel!" + +"I'll go," declared Mrs. Balcome. + +Mrs. Milo was all gratitude. "Oh, my dear, thank you! And we'll get +ready today!--Why not? I certainly shan't stay here"--this with a +glance at the toy-strewn bench. "Susan,--you must pack." + +Sue stared. "Oh,--do--do I go?" + +"Would you send me, at my age----" + +"No! No!"--hastily. + +"And you don't mean to tell me that you'd like to stay behind!" There +was a touch of the old jealousy. + +"I didn't know you wanted me to go, mother." + +"Most assuredly you go." She had evidently forgotten completely her +threat of the afternoon before. Sue had disobeyed. Yet her +disobedience was not to result in a parting. "And that reminds +_me_"--turning to Balcome, who was scratching away with his pen. "If +_Sue_ goes----" + +Balcome understood. He began to write a new check. "I'll make this +twelve thousand." + +Mrs. Balcome saw an opportunity. "Hattie, do you want to go?" she +asked. She looked about the Close. "Hattie!" + +But Hattie was gone. + +Mrs. Milo bustled to Balcome to take the check. "I'll get the +reservations at once," she declared. And as the slip of paper was put +into her hand, "Oh, Brother Balcome!" + +"_Sister_ Milo!" Balcome, beaming, crushed her fingers gratefully in +his big fist. + +She bustled out, taking Mrs. Balcome with her. + +Balcome kept Sue back. "Of course, I know that you won't get one +nickel of that money," he declared. "So I'm going to give you a little +bunch for yourself." + +"But, dear sir,----" + +"Not a word now! Don't I know what you've done for me? Why,"--shaking +with laughter--"Mrs. B. will have to stay in England six months." + +"Six?" + +"Sh!"--he leaned to whisper--"Babette! Six months is the British +quarantine for dogs!" He caught her hand, and they laughed +immoderately. + +Her hand free again, she found a slip of paper in it. "Five thousand! +Oh, no! I can't take it!" + +"Yes, you will! Take it now instead of letting me will it to you. For +I'm going to die of joy! You see, my dear girl, you're not going to be +earning while you travel. And you can use it. And you've given me +value received. You've done me a whale of a turn! Please let me do +this much." + +"I'll take it if you'll let me use some of it for--for----" + +"You mean that youngster?" + +"Would you mind if I helped the mother?" + +"Say, there's no string tied to that check. Use it as you like. But I +want to ask you, Sue,--just curiosity--why were you so all-fired nice +to that Crosby girl?" + +"I'll tell you. But you'll never peep?" + +"Cross my heart to die!" + +"She's been so brave, and I'm a coward." + +"That you're not, by Jingo!" + +"Let me explain. She couldn't stand conditions that weren't suited to +her. At nineteen, she rebelled. I'm not going to say that she didn't +also do wrong. But she was so young. While I--I have gone on and on, +knowing in my secret heart----" She choked, and could not finish. + +"I understand, Sue. It's a blamed shame! And you can't stop now----" + +"I shall go with mother." + +"Well, if you find that young woman you give her as much of that five +thousand as you want to. And if you need more----" + +"Oh, you dear, old, fat thing!" + +He put his arm about her. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. + +"There! There! You're a good girl." + +"You're a man in a million! How can any woman find you hard to live +with!" + +"Momsey!" Ikey was standing beside them. His hair was disheveled, his +face white. + +"Ikey boy!" The sight of him made her anxious. + +"You--you go avay?" + +"We-e-ell,----" + +"A-a-a-ah!" She was trying to break it gently. But he understood. +Two small begrimed hands went up to hide his face. + +She drew him to her. "But I'll come back, dear! I'll come back! Oh, +don't! Don't!" + +He clung to her wildly then. "Oh, how can I lif midoudt you! Oh, +Momsey! Momsey! I nefer sing again!" + +She led him to a bench. "Now listen!" she begged gently. "Listen! +It's only for a little while." + +He lifted his face. "Yes?" + +"Yes, dear." + +That comforted. "Und also," he observed philosophically, "de olt lady, +she goes mit." + +"Ikey!" Sue sat back, displeased. + +"Oh, scuses! Scuses!" + +"She's my mother." + +"You--you _sure_?" + +"Why, Ikey!" she cried, astonished. + +"Alvays I--I like to t'ink de oder t'ing." + +"What other thing?" + +"Dat you vas found in de basket." + +Balcome laughed, and Sue laughed with him. Even Ikey, guessing that he +had inadvertently been more than usually witty, allowed a smile to come +into those wet eyes. + +"There!" cried Sue, putting both arms about him. "Momsey forgives." + +"T'ank you. Und now I like to question--you don't go avay mit de +preacher?" + +"No! No!" Sue blushed like a girl. + +"Den you don't marry mit him." + +"N-n-n-n-no!" + +"You feel better, don't you, old man?" inquired Balcome. + +"Yes.--If I vas growed up, I vould marry mit her myself." + +"Now little flattering chorister," said Sue, "there's something Momsey +wants you to do. She'll have to leave here very soon. And before she +goes she wants to hear that splendid voice again. So you go to the +choirmaster, and ask him if he'll get all the boys together for Miss +Susan, and have them sing something--something full of happiness, and +hope." + +"Momsey, can it be 'O Mutter Dear, Jerusalem?'" + +"Do you like that best?" + +"I like it awful much! De first part, she has Mutter in it; und--und +also Jerusalem." + +Sue kissed him. "And the second verse Momsey likes---- + + _'O happy harbor of God's Saints! + O sweet and pleasant soil! + In Thee no sorrow can be found, + Nor grief, nor care, nor toil!'_" + + +"It's grand!" sighed Ikey. + +"You ask the choirmaster if you may sing it. And if he lets you----" + +"Goot!" He started away bravely enough. But the Church door reached, +he turned and came slowly back. "Momsey," he faltered, "I don't +remember my mutter. Vould you, now, mind if--just vonce before you +go--if I called _you_--mutter?" + +She put out her arms to him. "Oh, my son! My son!" + +With a cry, he flung himself into her embrace, weeping. "Oh, mutter! +Mutter! Mutter!" + +"Remember that mother loves you." + +"Oh, my mutter," he answered, "Gott take fine care of you!" + +"And God take care of my boy." + +He sobbed, and she held him close, brushing at the tousled head. While +Balcome paced to and fro on the lawn, and coughed suspiciously, and +blinked at the sun. "Say, I've got an idea," he announced. "Listen, +young man! Come here." + +Gently Sue unclasped the hands that clung about her neck, and turned +the tear-stained face to Balcome. + +"Up in Buffalo, in my business, I need a boy who knows how to keep his +mouth shut. Now when do you escape from this--this asylum?" He swept +his hat in a wide circle that included the Rectory. + +Pride made Ikey forget his woe. "Oh," he boasted, "I can go venefer I +like. You see, my aunt, she only borrows me here." + +"Ah! And what do you think of my proposition?" + +Ikey meditated. "Vell, I ain't crazy to stay here mit Momsey gone." + +Balcome put a hand on his shoulder. "I thought you wouldn't. So +suppose we talk this over--eh?--man to man--while we hunt the +choirmaster?" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +When they were gone, Sue looked down at the check in her hand. +Yesterday, in the heat of a just resentment, she had boasted a new +freedom. What had come of it was twelve hours without the presence of +her mother--twelve hours shared with Hattie and Farvel. + +They had been happy hours, for strangely enough Hattie had needed +little cheering. It was Farvel who easily accomplished wonders with +her. Sue did not know what passed between the clergyman and the +bride-who-was-not-to-be during a long conference in the library. She +had heard only the low murmur of their voices. And once she had heard +Hattie laugh. When the two finally emerged, it was plain that Hattie +had been weeping, and Farvel was noticeably kind to her, even tender. +At dinner he was unwontedly cheerful, relieved at the whole solving of +the old, sad mystery, though worried not a little by Clare's +disappearance. After dinner he had taken himself out and away in a +futile search that had lasted the whole night. + +But happy as Sue had been since parting with her mother at Tottie's, +nevertheless she felt strangely shaken, as if, somehow, she had been +swept from her bearings. She attributed this to the fact that never +before had she and her mother spent a night under different roofs. +Until Sue's twenty-fourth birthday, there had been the daily partings +that come with a girl's school duties. (Sue had continued through a +business college after leaving high school.) But beyond the short trip +to school and back, Mrs. Milo did not permit her daughter to go +anywhere alone, urging Sue's youth as her excuse. + +They shopped together; they sat side by side in the Milo pew at St. +Giles; and after Sue's sixteenth birthday, though Wallace might have to +be left at home with his father, Mrs. Milo did not permit her daughter +to accept invitations, even to the home of a girl friend, unless she +herself was included. It was said--and in praise of Mrs. Milo--that +here was one woman who took "good care of her girl." + +When Horatio Milo died (an expert accountant, he had no resistance with +which to combat a sudden illness that was aggravated by a wound +received in the Civil War), Mrs. Milo clung more closely than ever--if +that was possible--to Sue. To the daughter, this was explained by her +mother's pathetic grief; and by her dependence. For Sue was now, all +at once, the breadwinner of the little family. + +At this juncture, Mrs. Milo pleaded hard in behalf of an arrangement +for earning that would not take her daughter from her even through a +short business day. Sue met her mother's wishes by setting up an +office in the living-room of their small apartment. Here she took some +dictation--her mother seated close by, busy with her sewing, but not +too busy to be graciousness itself to those men and women who desired +Sue's services. There was copying to be done, too. The girl became a +sort of general secretary, her clients including an author, a college +professor, and a clergyman. + +Thus for six years. Then, at thirty years of age, she went to fill the +position at the Rectory. Her father had been a vestryman of the +Church, and she had been christened there--as a small, freckle-faced +girl in pigtails, fresh from a little village in northern New York. + +And now, at this day that was so late, Sue knew that between her and +her mother things could never again be as they had been. Their +differences lay deep: and could not be adjusted. Mrs. Milo had always +demanded from her daughter the unquestioning obedience of a child; she +would not--and could not--alter her attitude after so many years. + +But there was a reason for their parting that was more powerful than +any other: down from its high pedestal had come the image of Mrs. Milo +that her daughter had so long, and almost blindly, cherished. All at +once, as if indeed her eyes had been suddenly and miraculously opened, +Sue understood all the hypocrisy of her mother's gentleness, the +affection that was only simulated, the smiles that were only muscle +deep. + +How it had all happened, Sue as yet scarcely knew. But in effect it +had been like an avalanche--an avalanche that is built up, flake by +flake, over a long period, and then gives way through even so light a +touch as the springing to flight of a mountain bird. The Milo +avalanche--it was made up of countless small tyrannies and scarcely +noticeable acts of selfishness adroitly disguised. But touched into +motion by Mrs. Milo's frank cruelty, it had swept upon the two women, +destroying all the falsities that had hitherto made any thought of +separation impossible. As Sue fingered the check, she realized that +her life and her mother's had been changed. It was likely that they +might go on living together. Though they were two women who belonged +apart. + +"Why, Miss Susan,"--Farvel had come across the lawn to her +noiselessly--"what's this I hear? That you're going away." + +She rose, a little flurried. "I--I suppose I must." + +"And you've bought all these for--for the child," he added, catching +sight of the dolls and toys. + +"It'll be nice to give them to her. But I'd hoped I could be near +Barbara for a long time to come. I hoped I could help to make up to +the little one for--for anything she's lacked." She shook her head. +"But you see, my mother depends on me so. She wouldn't go without me. +She's too old to go just with Mrs. Balcome. And--and if it's my +duty----" At her feet was that box which Mrs. Balcome had thrown down +on hearing that it contained something which should be put upon ice. +Sue picked the box up and began to undo the string. + +Farvel stood in silence for a little. Then, finally, "I--I want to +tell you something before you go. I'm afraid it will surprise you. +And--and"--coloring bashfully--"I hardly know how to begin." + +"Ye-e-es?" Sue was embarrassed, too, and hid her confusion by taking +from the box a bride's bouquet that was destined not to figure in any +marriage ceremony. At sight of the flowers, her embarrassment grew. + +Farvel began to speak very low.--"After Laura left, I didn't think of a +second marriage--not even when her brother had the divorce registered. +I felt I couldn't settle down again and be happy when I didn't know her +fate. She might be alive, you see. And I am an Episcopal clergyman. +Still--I wasn't contented. I had my dreams--of a home, and a wife----" +He paused. + +"A wife who would really care," she said. + +"Yes. And a woman _I_ could love. Because, I know I'm to blame for +Laura's going--oh, yes, to a very great extent. I didn't love her +enough. If I had, she never would have left--never would have done +anything to hurt me. If I were to marry again, it would have to be +someone I cared for a great deal. That's what I--I want to plead now +when I tell you--when I confess. I want to plead that this new love I +feel is so great--almost beyond my--my power, Miss Susan." + +She did not look at him. The bouquet in her hand trembled. + +He went on. "I oughtn't to find it hard to tell you anything. I've +always felt that there was such sympathy between us. As if you +understand me; and I would never fail to understand you." + +"I have felt it, too." + +Now she lifted her eyes--but to the windows of the drawing-room. From +the nearest, a face was quickly withdrawn--her mother's. She stepped +back, widening the distance between herself and Farvel. + +"Susan!" It was Mrs. Milo, calling as if from a distance. + +Instantly, Farvel also fell back. And scarcely knowing why she did it, +Sue put the bride's bouquet behind her. + +Mrs. Milo came out. Her eyes had a peculiar glitter, but her voice was +gentle enough. "Susan dear, why do you go flying away just when you're +wanted? Why don't you come and help your poor motherkins as you +promised? You don't want me to do everything?" + +"No, mother." + +"Then please go at once and help Mrs. Balcome with the packing. My +things go into the two small wardrobe trunks. You'll have to use that +big trunk that was your dear father's. Now hurry!" + +"Yes, mother." Sue attempted a detour, the bouquet still out of her +mother's sight. + +"What are you trying to conceal, dear?" + +"It's--it's Hattie's bouquet." + +A look of mingled fear and resentment--a look that Sue understood; +next, breathing hard, "What are you doing with it? You don't want it! +Give it to me!" Mrs. Milo caught the flowers from her daughter's hands +and threw them upon the grass. "Now go and do what I've asked you to!" +She pointed. + +Sue glanced at Farvel, who was staring at the elder woman in amazed +displeasure. "I'll be back," she said significantly. There was a +trace of yesterday's rebellion in her manner as she went out. + +As the drawing-room door closed, Mrs. Milo's manner also underwent a +change. She hastened to Farvel, her eyes brimming with tears, her lips +trembling. "Oh, Mr. Farvel," she cried, "she's all I've got in this +world. She's the very staff of my life! And my heart is set on her +going abroad with me! It'll be an expensive trip, but I'm an old +woman, Mr. Farvel, and I can't take that long journey without Sue! I +know you're against me for what I did yesterday--for what I said to +your wife. But I felt she'd separate me from Sue--that she'd put Sue +against me. And, oh, don't punish me for it! Don't take my daughter +away from me! Oh, don't! Don't!" She caught at his hand, broke down +completely, and sobbed. + +"Why, Mrs. Milo!" exclaimed Farvel, not understanding. "What do you +mean?--take her away?" + +"I mean marry her!--Oh, she's my main hold on life!" + +He laughed. "My dear, dear lady, I haven't the least intention in the +world of asking your daughter to marry me." + +"No?" She stopped her weeping. + +"None whatever. How can I marry--while Laura is alive?" + +"And--and"--doubtfully--"you don't even--love her?" + +"Will it make your mind entirely easy if I tell you that I--I care for +someone else?" He blushed like a boy. + +"Oh, Alan Farvel, I'm so glad! So glad!" Her gratitude was +spontaneous. "And I wish you could marry! You deserve the very best +kind of a wife!" + +"You flatter me." + +"Not at all! You're a good man. You'd make some girl very happy. +I've always said, 'What a pity Mr. Farvel isn't a married man'--not +knowing, of course, that you'd ever been one.--Could I trouble you to +hand me that bouquet?" + +"Certainly." Farvel picked up the bride's bouquet from where she had +thrown it and gave it to her. + +"Thank you. A moment ago, I found the perfume of it quite +overpowering. But the blossoms are lovely, aren't they?--So you do +care for someone? And"--she smiled in her best playfully teasing +manner--"is the 'someone' a secret?" + +"Well,----" + +"Ah, you don't want to tell me! I'm an old lady, Mr. Farvel; I know +how to keep a secret." + +"Oh, I'm going to tell you. Though you're going to think very badly of +me." + +"Badly? For being in love?--You will have to wait." + +"For being in love with a certain young lady." + +"Ho-ho! That's very unlikely. Now, who is it? I'm all eagerness!" +She smiled at him archly. + +He waited a moment; then, "I love Hattie Balcome." + +"_Hattie?_" She found it impossible of comprehension. + +"Hattie." + +"Well,--that is--news." + +He bowed, a little surprised. He had expected anger and vituperation. + +"Of course, my son---- But as that can't be. And Sue--does Sue know?" + +"I was just about to tell her." + +She turned, calling: "Susan! Susan! _Su_san!" + +There was a rustle at the door--a smothered laugh. Sue appeared. "Who +calls the Queen of Lower Egypt?" she hailed airily, striking an +attitude. She had changed her dress. This was the "other one" given +her by Balcome--a confection all silver and chiffon. And this was Sue +at her youngest. + +"Oh, my dear," cried her mother, "it's lovely!" + +Startled by the unexpected admiration, Sue relaxed the pictorial +attitude. "You--you really like it, mother?" + +"I think it's _adorable_!" vowed Mrs. Milo. "A perfect _dream_!--Don't +you think so, Mr. Farvel?" + +He smiled. "I've never seen Miss Susan look more charming," he +declared. + +His compliment heightened the color in Sue's cheeks. "I--I just +happened across it," she explained, "so I thought I'd try it on." + +Mrs. Milo prepared to go. "By the way, Susan," she said. "I've +changed my mind about Europe." + +"You're not going?" Sue looked pleased. + +"Oh, yes, I'm going. But--I've decided not to take you." + +"Oh." Sue looked down, that her mother and Farvel might not guess at +her relief and her happiness. + +Her mother went on: "It's quite true what you said yesterday. You +_have_ been tied to me too closely. We need a change from each other." +She spoke with great gentleness. Smiling at Sue, the elder woman noted +how cruelly the bright sunlight of the Close brought out all the lines +in her daughter's face, emphasized the aging of the throat and the +graying of the hair. + +"Besides," continued the silvery voice, "it would be a very expensive +trip--with four in the party." + +"Four?" + +"Poor dear Wallace, I'm going to take him with me. His happiness is +ruined, and where would he go without me? Not to Peru--alone. I +couldn't permit that. He is absolutely broken-hearted. I must try to +heal his wound.--Oh, I'm not criticizing the way Hattie has treated +him. But his mother must not be the one to fail him now,--the darling!" + +"I want you to make any arrangement, any decision, that will mean +comfort and happiness to you and Wallace," said Sue. And felt all at +once a sudden, new, sweet sense of freedom. + +"And I feel that Mrs. Balcome and I will need a man along," added Mrs. +Milo. "If you were to go also----" + +"I am just as satisfied not to." + +"--It would take more money than we shall have. And as Hattie's mother +is going, doubtless Hattie will be glad enough to have you here to +chaperone her." + +"Yes." + +"But then do anything you like. You'll remember that yesterday you +twitted me about having to be waited on. I'll prove to you, my dear, +that I can get on without you." + +"Yes," said Sue, again. "And for what it would cost to take me, you +can hire the best of attention." + +"That's true, though I hadn't thought of it. But for a woman of my +years, I'm very active. I need no attention, really.--Just see, will +you, if there isn't a hook loose here on this shoulder? Mrs. Balcome +was downstairs when I dressed." + +Sue looked. "It's all right, mother dear." + +"And this bonnet"--she gave it a petulant twitch--"you know it's +heavier on one side than the other. I told you that when you were +making it." + +"I'm sorry, mother." Sue adjusted the bonnet with deft hands. + +"And now I have a thousand things to do!" It was like a dismissal of +Sue. Two things had come between them: on Sue's part, it was the +sudden knowledge of her mother's character--of its depths and its +shallows; while on the part of the elder woman, it was injured pride, +and never-to-be-forgotten mortification. + +Mrs. Milo floated away to the door. "And Mr. Farvel has a great secret +to tell you," she chirped as she went; "--a wonderful secret." She +turned to blink both eyes at the clergyman roguishly. "He's going to +confess to you." Then she held out the bride's bouquet, and with such +a peremptory gesture that Sue came to take it from her. Next she shook +a finger at Farvel. "Now out with it, Alan!" she commanded. + +"Alan!" gasped Sue, under her breath. She gave her mother a tiny push. +"Yes, go, mother! Hurry! You're wanted at the telephone!" + +"I'm wanted at the steamship office," answered Mrs. Milo. "Oh, think +of it!--Egypt! The Holy Land! The Garden of Eden!" + +Left alone, both Farvel and Sue found the moment embarrassing. She +went back to the sun-dial, picking at the flowers of the bouquet. He +stood apart, hands rammed in pockets. + +Presently, "Well, I--I don't have to go to Europe." She smiled at him +shyly. + +"No. That's--that's good." + +"And--and when I went out you--you were saying----" + +It helped him. "I was trying to--to make a clean breast of something," +he began, faltering. "But--but--oh, she can tell you best." He looked +up at the window of his study. "Hattie!" he called. "Hattie!" + +"Yes, Alan!" A rose fell upon the grass; then Hattie looked down at +them, radiant and laughing, her fair hair blowing about her face. + +"Come here, little woman." + +"All right." The fair head disappeared. + +"Hattie!" Sue was like one in a dream. + +"You're--you're shocked. But wait----" + +"No--no. That is,--not the way you mean." Then as the truth came to +her, she went unsteadily to a bench, sat, and leaned her head on a +hand. Now she understood why her mother was willing to leave her +behind! + +Hattie came tearing across the grass to her. "Oh, Sue! Oh, you're +crying! Oh, _dear_ Sue, you're crying!" She knelt, her arms about the +elder woman. + +"Of _course_ I'm crying," answered Sue. "That's what I always do when +I--I see that someone is happy." + +"Oh, Sue! Sue!" The girl clung to her. "Don't think too badly of me. +It came out last night--when Alan and I were talking. I told him I +didn't love Wallace the way I should--oh, Sue, _you_ know I never +have--and that it was because I loved someone else. And, oh, he grew +so--so white--he was so hurt--and I told him--I had to. It just poured +out of my soul, Sue. It had been kept in so long." + +"You darling girl!" They clung to each other, murmuring. + +"Now you know why I was so--so broken up yesterday," explained Farvel. +"It wasn't--Laura. It was Hattie." + +"Oh, we've cared for each other from the first!" confessed Hattie. +"And we've settled how it is all going to be. I'll stay in New York, +where we can be near each other, and see each other now and then--oh, +we shall be only friends, Sue. But I'd rather have his friendship than +the love of any other man I've ever known. And we'll be patient. And +if we can't ever be more than friends, we'll be glad just for that. +See how happy you've been, Sue, with no one--all these years. And here +I shall have Alan." + +"Ah, my dear girl!" exclaimed Sue. She stroked the bright hair. "Ah, +my dear girl!" + +"Oh, Sue, you mean you haven't been happy? Why don't you marry?" + +Sue laughed. "_I_? What an idea! Why, I don't think I've ever even +had the thought. Anyhow, the years have gone--the inclination is gone, +if it ever was there. I'm too old." Then with sudden and passionate +earnestness, "But you two." She rose and took each by a hand, and led +them to the dial. "Read! Read what is written in the stone!--_Tempus +Fugit_--time flies! Oh, take your happiness while you can! Don't +wait. Oh, don't!--We must find a way somehow. The Church--we must see +the proper authorities--oh, it isn't right that you two should be +punished----" + +"Momsey!" Peter, the pale, was calling from the drawing-room door. +"There's a gentleman----" + +A man appeared behind the boy, and pushed past into the Close--a young +man, unshaven and haggard, with bloodshot eyes. + +"Is there something I can do for you?" asked Farvel, quickly. He +hastened toward the visitor, who looked as if he had suddenly gone mad. + +"Hull is my name," announced the man; "--Felix Hull." + +"Oh, yes," said Sue, eagerly. She signed to Hattie to go, and the girl +hastened away through the door under the wedding-bell. + +"You have news?" questioned Farvel. + +Hull crossed the lawn to the dial. He walked slowly, like an old man. +And his shoulders were bent. His derby hat was off, and he clutched it +in two shaking hands. + +"Tell us," bade Sue. "It's--bad news?" + +"Yes." + +"Take your time," she added kindly. + +"Yesterday--just before you saw her--I was there. She was--well, you +know. She begged me to go--and keep away from the house. That made me +suspicious. I told her I wouldn't come back. Well, I didn't. Because +I never left. I knew she wasn't telling me the truth--I beg your +pardon, sir.--So I hung around. I saw you all go in. After a little, +I saw her come out--on the run. I followed. She went about twenty +blocks----" + +"Where?" + +"You're Miss Milo, aren't you?" + +"Susan Milo." + +"She spoke of you--oh, so--so loving. Well, it was a girl's +club--called the Gramercy. I knew it well because we'd met there many +a time. I went in. There was a new maid on hand, but I saw Clare. +She came right away, like as if she was more than glad to have a talk. +I didn't expect that, so I'd brought along a canary--to make her think +it was hers--the one she'd left behind, you see,--so she couldn't just +refuse to see me. Well, we talked. There wasn't any quarreling. She +wasn't a bit broke up--that surprised me. And it threw me clean off my +guard. She was highty-tighty, as you might say, and I'll admit it +hurt. We shook hands though, when I went, but she didn't ask me to +stay to tea." He turned to Farvel. "One thing she said about the +child she wanted you to know." + +"What?" + +"It's not your daughter, sir." + +"Ah." + +"And I hear from the St. Clair woman that the little one isn't as old +as Clare said. So----" + +"I understand." + +"Well, this morning, when I woke up--I didn't sleep much to speak of +last night--I got to thinking about--her. And I made up my mind that +I'd go look her up, and--and be a friend to her anyhow." His voice +broke. "I was fond of her, Miss Milo." + +"She was gone?" + +He nodded. "She'd been gone since the night before. Went out, the +maid said, with no hat on and a letter in her hand--for the post. And +she hadn't come back. I tell you, that worried me. I was half-crazy." +He tried to control his voice, to keep back the tears. + +"Then it's very bad news," ventured Farvel. He laid a hand on the +other man's sleeve. + +"I went over to the St. Clair house," Hull went on. "Clare hadn't been +there. Then--I knew. So I went to the one place--that was likely----" + +"You mean----" asked Farvel. "Oh, not that! Not that!" + +"She was there. She'd spoken about the river. That's why I was sure." + +"The river!" gasped Sue. "Oh, what are you saying?" + +"She'd done as she said," answered Hull, quietly. + +Sue sank to a bench. "Oh, that cry of hers, yesterday!" she reminded, +breaking down. "Do you remember, Mr. Farvel? When she saw you--'It's +all over! It's all over!' Oh, why did I let her out of my sight!" + +"It's my fault," declared Hull, hoarsely. "I was too hard on her. Too +hard." He turned away. + +Farvel went to him and held out his hand. Hull took it, and they stood +in silence for a long moment. Then Hull drew back. There was a queer, +distorted smile on his face. "This comes of a man's thinking he's +smart," he declared. "I wanted to show her I was on--instead of +letting her explain it all to me. But I've always been like that--too +smart--too smart." He turned and went out, walking unsteadily. + + +It was Sue who broke the news to Hattie. And when the latter had left +to rejoin her mother at the hotel (for it was agreed that it would be +better if Farvel and the girl did not see each other again until +later). Sue came back into the Close--to wait for Barbara. + +She waited beside the dial. There was nothing girl-like in her +posture. Her shoulders were as bent as Hull's had been. The high +color was gone from her face. And the gray eyes showed no look of +youth. She felt forsaken, and old, and there was an ache in her throat. + +"Well, the poor trapped soul is gone," she said presently, out loud to +herself. She looked down at the dial. "Time is not for her any more. +But rest--and peace." + +What changes had come while just these last twenty-four hours were +flying! while the shadow on that dial had made its single turn! + +"And here you are, Susan, high and dry." She had wept for another; she +laughed at herself. "Here you are, as Ikey says, 'All fixed up, und by +your lonesomes.' But never mind any lamentations, Susan." For her +breast was heaving in spite of herself. "Your hands are free--don't +forget that? And you can do l-l-l-lots of helpful things--for your +pocket is lined. And there must be something ahead for you, Susan! +There must be s-s-s-something!" + +"Miss Susan!" Someone had come from the drawing-room. + +"Dora!" But she kept her face turned away, lest she betray her tears. + +"It is your humble servant," acknowledged Dora. + +"Well, my humble servant, listen to me: I want you to pack my things +into that old trunk of father's. And put my typewriter into its case, +and screw the cover down. And when I send you word, you'll bring both +to me. But--no one is to know where you come." + +Dora's eyes bulged with the very mystery of it--the excitement. "Miss +Susan," she vowed gravely, "I shall follow your instructions if my life +is spared!" + +"And now--bring the little one." + +"In all my orphanage experience," confided Dora, delaying a moment to +impart this important news, "I've never heard so much mother-talk. +Since last night, she's not stopped for one _second_! I gave her a hot +lemonade to get her to sleep. And she was awake this morning when it +was still dark. I think"--with feeling--"that if she doesn't get her +mother pretty soon, she'll--she'll----" But words failed her. She +wagged her head and went out. + +Sue stood for a moment, looking straight before her, her eyes wide and +grave. Presently, a smile lighted them, and softened all her face. +She turned. Her hat and the long coat were on the bench with the toys. +She went to put them on, buttoning the coat carefully over the silver +gown. Next, she took from a pocket the ring that her brother had given +her. She held it up for the sun; to shine upon it. Then, very +deliberately, she slipped it upon the third finger of her left hand. + +A movement within the house, a patter of small feet at the drawing-room +door, and Sue turned. There stood a little girl in a dress of faded +gingham. Down her back by a string hung a shabby hat. But her shoes +were new and shining. + +In one hand she carried a doll. + +She glanced up and around--at the ivy-grown wall of the Church, at the +stained-glass windows glowing in the light, at the darting birds, the +wedding-bell, the massed flowers and palms; and down at the grass, so +neat and vividly green, and cool. Last of all, she looked at Sue. + +Sue knelt, and held out both hands, smilingly, invitingly; then waited, +dropping her arms to her sides again. + +Barbara came nearer, but paused once more, and the brown eyes studied +the gray. This for a long moment, when the child smiled back at Sue, +as if reassured, and nodded confidingly. + +"Oh, this is a beautiful garden," she said. "And after today, I'm +going to live where there's flowers all the time! My mother, she's +come back from Africa. My father hasn't, because he's got to hunt +lions. But my mother and me, we're going to live in a little cottage +in--in, well, some place. And there's a garden a-a-all around the +cottage,"--she made a sweeping gesture with one short arm--"a garden of +roses! And I'm going to have my mother every day. And she loves me! +And she's good, and brave, and sweet, and pretty." + +At that moment, Sue Milo was beautiful. All the tenderness of a heart +starved of its rightful love looked from her eyes. And her face shone +as if lighted by a flame. "I--love you!" she said tremulously. + +"Do you?"--there was an answering look of love in the eyes of the child. + +"Oh, _so_ tenderly!" + +The little face sobered. The small figure moved forward a step. +"I'm--I'm glad"--almost under her breath. "Because--because I love +_you_, too." Then coming still closer, and looking earnestly into +those eyes so full of gentle sweetness, "Who--are--you?" + +"Barbara,"--Sue's arms went out again, yearningly--"Barbara, I--am your +mother." + +"Mother!"--the cry rang through the Close. The child flung herself +into those waiting arms, clasping Sue with her own. "Oh, mother! +Mother! _Mother_!" + +"My baby! My baby!" + +Now past the open door of the Church, walking two and two in their +white cottas, came the choir. And their voices, high and clear, sang +that verse of Ikey's song which Sue loved best-- + + "_O happy harbor of God's Saints! + O sweet and pleasant soil! + In Thee no sorrow can be found, + Nor grief, nor care, nor toil!_" + + +Before the song was done, Barbara's hat was on, and with +"Lolly-Poppins" and the woolly lamb under an arm; with Sue similarly +burdened with the Kewpie, the new doll, and the duck that could quack, +the two went, hand in hand, across the lawn to that little white door +through which forsaken babies had often come, but through which one +lovingly claimed was now to go. And the little white door opened to +the touch of Sue's hand--and through it, to a new life and a new +happiness; to service sweet beyond words, went a new mother--and with +her, a new-found daughter. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK APRON-STRINGS*** + + +******* This file should be named 22804.txt or 22804.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/8/0/22804 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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