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diff --git a/26233-h/26233-h.htm b/26233-h/26233-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b3391bb --- /dev/null +++ b/26233-h/26233-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9279 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Indifference of Juliet, by Grace S. Richmond. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em} + hr.full {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + .caption {font-size:.8em} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .blockquot {margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Indifference of Juliet, by Grace S. Richmond + +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: The Indifference of Juliet + +Author: Grace S. Richmond + +Illustrator: Henry Hutt + +Release Date: August 9, 2008 [EBook #26233] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIFFERENCE OF JULIET *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Bruce Albrecht and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 330px; height: 441px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 330px;'> +“The rich voice of the bishop was as impressive as it had ever been.” (<i>See page 77</i>)<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.8em; margin-top:1em;'>The Indifference</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.8em; margin-bottom:1em;'>of Juliet</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>By GRACE S. RICHMOND</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>Author of</p> +<p>“The Second Violin” “The Dixons”</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>With Illustrations</p> +<p>By HENRY HUTT</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>A. L. BURT COMPANY,</p> +<p>PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-cpy.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 186px; height: 185px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em; font-style:italic;'> +<p>All rights reserved, including that of</p> +<p>translation—also right of translation</p> +<p>into the Scandinavian languages</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-ded.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 158px; height: 179px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>Contents</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>An Audacious Proposition </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_AN_AUDACIOUS_PROPOSITION'>3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Measurements </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_MEASUREMENTS'>12</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Shopping with a Chaperon </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_SHOPPING_WITH_A_CHAPERON'>17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Cost of Frocks </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_THE_COST_OF_FROCKS'>23</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Muslins and Tackhammers </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_MUSLINS_AND_TACKHAMMERS'>30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Question of Identity </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_A_QUESTION_OF_IDENTITY'>36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>An Argument Without Logic </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_AN_ARGUMENT_WITHOUT_LOGIC'>46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>On Account of the Tea-Kettle </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_ON_ACCOUNT_OF_THE_TEAKETTLE'>57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Bishop and a Hay-Wagon </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_A_BISHOP_AND_A_HAYWAGON'>69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>On a Threshold </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_ON_A_THRESHOLD'>80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Bachelor Begs a Dish-Towel </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_THE_BACHELOR_BEGS_A_DISHTOWEL'>101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Smoke and Talk </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_SMOKE_AND_TALK'>114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Strawberries </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_STRAWBERRIES'>120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Anthony Plays Maid </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_ANTHONY_PLAYS_MAID'>136</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A House-Party—Outdoors </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_A_HOUSEPARTY_OUTDOORS'>144</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Rachel Causes Anxiety </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_RACHEL_CAUSES_ANXIETY'>155</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>An Unknown Quantity </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_AN_UNKNOWN_QUANTITY'>164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>All the April Stars Are Out </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_ALL_THE_APRIL_STARS_ARE_OUT'>175</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Prior Claim </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_A_PRIOR_CLAIM'>181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Everybody Gives Advice </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_EVERYBODY_GIVES_ADVICE'>191</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Roger Barnes Proves Invaluable </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII_ROGER_BARNES_PROVES_INVALUABLE'>201</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Two Not of a Kind </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIII_TWO_NOT_OF_A_KIND'>215</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Careys Are at Home </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIV_THE_CAREYS_ARE_AT_HOME'>233</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Robeson Will </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXV_THE_ROBESON_WILL'>246</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>On Guard </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVI_ON_GUARD'>266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Lockwood Pays a Call </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVII_LOCKWOOD_PAYS_A_CALL'>282</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A High-Handed Affair </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVIII_A_HIGHHANDED_AFFAIR'>294</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Juliet Proves Herself Still Indifferent </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIX_JULIET_PROVES_HERSELF_STILL_INDIFFERENT'>303</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS</p> +</div> + +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Horatio Marcy</span>, an elderly New Englander of some wealth.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Anthony Robeson</span>, the last young male representative of +the Kentucky <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Robesons</span>, now making his own way in Massachusetts.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Wayne Carey</span>, Robeson’s former college chum, an office clerk +on a salary.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dr. Roger Williams Barnes</span>, a surgeon.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Louis Lockwood</span>, an attorney-at-law.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Stevens Cathcart</span>, an architect.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Mrs. Dingley</span>, sister of Horatio Marcy.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Juliet Marcy</span>, daughter of Horatio Marcy.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Judith Dearborn</span>, Juliet’s friend since school-days.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Suzanne Gerard</span>, <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Marie Dresser</span>, other friends of Juliet.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Rachel Redding</span>, a poor country girl—of education.</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Mary McKaim</span>—in the background, but valuable.</p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-top:2em;'>THE INDIFFERENCE OF JULIET</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_AN_AUDACIOUS_PROPOSITION' id='I_AN_AUDACIOUS_PROPOSITION'></a> +<h2>I.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>An Audacious Proposition</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Anthony Robeson glanced about +him in a satisfied way at the +shaded nook under the low-hanging +boughs into which he had guided the +boat. Then he drew in his oars and let +the little craft drift.</p> +<p>“This is an ideal spot,” said he, looking +into his friend’s face, “in which to +tell you a rather interesting piece of +news.”</p> +<p>“Oh, fine!” cried his friend, settling herself +among the cushions in the stern and +tilting back her parasol so that the light +through its white expanse framed her +health-tinted face in a sort of glory. “Tell +me at once. I suspected you came with +something on your mind. There couldn’t +be a lovelier place on the river than this for +confidences. But I can guess yours. Tony, +you’ve found ‘her’!”</p> +<p>“And you’ll be my friend just the same?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +questioned Anthony anxiously. “My chum—my +confidante?”</p> +<p>“Oh, well, Tony, that’s absurd,” declared +Juliet Marcy severely. “As if <i>she</i> +would allow it!”</p> +<p>“She’s three thousand miles away.”</p> +<p>“I’m ashamed of you!”</p> +<p>“Just in the interval, then,” pleaded +Anthony. “I need you now worse than +ever. For I’ve a tremendous responsibility +on my hands. The—the—you know—is to +come off in September, and this is June—and +I’ve a house to furnish. Will you help +me do it, Juliet?”</p> +<p>“<i>Anthony Robeson!</i>” she said explosively +under her breath, with a laugh. Then she +sat up and leaned forward with a commanding +gesture. “Tell me all about it. What +is her name and who is she? Where did +you meet her? Are you very much——”</p> +<p>“Would I marry a girl if I were not ‘very +much’?” demanded Anthony. “Well—I’ll +tell you—since you insist on these non-essentials +before you really come down to +business. Her name is Eleanor Langham, +and she lives in San Francisco. Her family +is old, aristocratic, wealthy—yet she condescends +to me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span></p> +<p>He looked up keenly into her eyes, and +her brown lashes fell for an instant before +something in his glance, but she said +quickly: “Go on.”</p> +<p>“When the—affair—is over I want to +bring my bride straight home,” Anthony +proceeded, with a tinge of colour in his +smooth, clear cheek. “I shall have no +vacation to speak of at that time of year, +and no time to spend in furnishing a house. +Yet I want it all ready for her. So you see +I need a friend. I shall have two weeks to +spare in July, and if you would help me—”</p> +<p>“But, Tony,” she interrupted, “how +could I? If—if we were seen shopping +together——”</p> +<p>“No, we couldn’t go shopping together +in New York without being liable to run +into a wondering crowd of friends, of course—not +in the places where you would want +to go. But here you are only a couple of +hours from Boston; you will be here all +summer; you and Mrs. Dingley and I could +run into Boston for a day at a time without +anybody’s being the wiser. I know—that +is—I’m confident Mrs. Dingley would do it +for me——”</p> +<p>“Oh, of course. Did Auntie ever deny +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +you anything since the days when she used +to give you jam as often as you came across +to play with me?”</p> +<p>“Never.”</p> +<p>“Have you <i>her</i> photograph?” inquired +Miss Marcy with an emphasis which left no +possible doubt as to whose photograph she +meant.</p> +<p>“I expected that,” said Anthony gravely. +“I expected it even sooner. But I am prepared.”</p> +<p>She sat watching him curiously as he +slowly drew from his breast-pocket a tiny +leather case, and gazed at it precisely as a +lover might be expected to gaze at his lady’s +image before jealously surrendering it into +other hands. She had never seen Anthony +Robeson look at any photograph except her +own with just that expression. She had +often wondered if he ever would. She +had recommended this course of procedure +to him many times, usually after once more +gently refusing to marry him. She had +begun at last to doubt whether it would +ever be possible to divert Tony’s mind +from its long-sought object. But that trip +to San Francisco, and the months he had +spent there in the interests of the firm he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +served, had evidently brought about the +desired change. She had not seen him +since his return until to-day, when he had +run up into the country where was the +Marcy summer home, to tell her, as she +now understood, his news and to make his +somewhat extraordinary request.</p> +<p>She accepted the photograph with a +smile, and studied it with attention.</p> +<p>“Oh, but isn’t she pretty?” she cried +warmly—and generously, for she was thinking +as she looked how much prettier was +Miss Langham than Miss Marcy.</p> +<p>“Isn’t she?” agreed Anthony with enthusiasm.</p> +<p>“Lovely. What eyes! And what a dear +mouth!”</p> +<p>“You’re right.”</p> +<p>“She looks clever, too.”</p> +<p>“She is.”</p> +<p>“How tall is she?”</p> +<p>“About up to my shoulder.”</p> +<p>“She’s little, then.”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t know,” objected Anthony, +surveying his own stalwart length of limb. +“A girl doesn’t have to be a dwarf not to be +on a level with me. I should say she must +be somewhere near your height.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span></p> +<p>“What a magnificent dresser!”</p> +<p>“Is she? She never irritates one with the +fact.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but I can see. And she’s going to +marry you. Tony, what can you give her?”</p> +<p>“A little box of a house, one maidservant, +an occasional trip into town, four +new frocks a year—moderate ones, you +know, in keeping with her circumstances—and +my name,” replied Anthony composedly.</p> +<p>“You won’t let her live in town, then?”</p> +<p>“Let her! Good heavens, what sort of a +place could I give her in town on my +salary? Now, in the very rural suburb +I’ve picked out she can live in the greatest +comfort, and we can have a real home—something +I haven’t had since Dad died +and the old home and the money and all +the rest of it went.”</p> +<p>His face was grave now, and he was +staring down into the water as if he saw +there both what he had lost and what he +hoped to gain.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Juliet sympathetically, +though she did not know how to imagine +the girl whose photograph she held in the +surroundings Anthony suggested. Presently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +she went on in her gentlest tone: “I’m +not saying that the name isn’t a proud one +to offer her, Tony—and if she is willing to +share your altered fortunes I’ve no doubt +she will be happy. Along with your name +you’ll give her a heart worth having.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Anthony without +looking up.</p> +<p>Miss Marcy coloured slightly, and hastened +to supplement this speech with +another.</p> +<p>“The question is—since the home is to +be hers—why not let her furnish it? Her +tastes and mine might not agree. Besides——”</p> +<p>“Well——”</p> +<p>“Why—you know, Tony,” explained +Juliet in some confusion, “I shouldn’t know +how to be economical.”</p> +<p>“I’m aware that you haven’t been +brought up on the most economical basis,” +Anthony acknowledged frankly. “But I’ll +take care of my funds, no matter how extravagant +you are inclined to be. If I should +hand you five dollars and say, ‘Buy a +dining-table,’ you could do it, couldn’t you? +You couldn’t satisfy your ideals, of course, +but you could give me the benefit of your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +discriminating choice within the five-dollar +limit.”</p> +<p>Juliet laughed, but in her eyes there grew +nevertheless a look of doubt. “Tony,” she +demanded, “how much have you to spend +on the furnishing of that house?”</p> +<p>“Just five hundred dollars,” said Anthony +concisely. “And that must cover the repairing +and painting of the outside. Really, Juliet, +haven’t I done fairly well to save up that +and the cost of the house and lot—for a +fellow who till five years ago never did a +thing for himself and never expected to +need to? Yes, I know—the piano in your +music-room cost twice that, and so did the +horses you drive, and a very few of your +pretty gowns would swallow another five. +But Mrs. Anthony Robeson will have to +chasten her ideas a trifle. Do you know, +Juliet—I think she will—for love of me?”</p> +<p>He was smiling at his own audacious +confidence. Juliet attempted no reply +to this very unanswerable statement. She +studied the photograph in silence, and +he lay watching her. In her blue-and-white +boating suit she was a pleasant object to +look at.</p> +<p>“Will you help me?” he asked again at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +length. “I’m more anxious than I can tell +you to have everything ready.”</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t like to fail you, Tony, since +you really wish it, though I’m very sure +you’ll find me a poor adviser. But you +haven’t been a brother to me since the +mud-pie days for nothing, and if I can help +you with suggestions as to colour and style +I’ll be glad to. Though I shall all the while +be trying to live up to this photograph, and +that will be a little hard on the five-dollar-dining-table +scale.”</p> +<p>“You’ve only to look out that everything +is in good taste,” said Anthony quietly, +“and that you can’t help doing. My wife +will thank you, and the new home will be +sweet to her because of you. It surely will +to me.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_MEASUREMENTS' id='II_MEASUREMENTS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +<h2>II.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Measurements</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>It was on the first day of Robeson’s +two-weeks’ July vacation that he came +to take Juliet Marcy and her aunt, Mrs. +Dingley, who had long stood to her in +the place of the mother she had early +lost, to see the home he had bought +in a remote suburb of a great city. +It was a three-hours’ journey from +the Marcy country place, but he had +insisted that Juliet could not furnish the +house intelligently until she had studied +it in detail.</p> +<p>So at eleven o’clock of a hot July morning +Miss Marcy found herself surveying from +the roadway a small, old-fashioned white +house, with green blinds shading its odd, +small-paned windows; a very “box of a +house,” as Anthony had said, set well back +from the quiet street and surrounded by +untrimmed trees and overgrown shrubbery. +The whole place had a neglected appearance. +Even the luxuriant climbing-rose, which +did its best to hide the worn white paint of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +the house-front, served to intensify the look +of decay.</p> +<p>“Charming, isn’t it?” asked Robeson +with the air of the delighted proprietor. +“Of course everything looks gone to seed, +but paint and a lawn-mower and a few other +things will make another place of it. It’s +good old colonial, that’s sure, and only +needs a bit of fixing up to be quite correct, +architecturally, small as it is.”</p> +<p>He led the way up the weedy path, Mrs. +Dingley and Juliet exchanging amused +glances behind his back. He opened the +doors with a flourish and waved the ladies +in. They entered with close-held skirts and +noses involuntarily sniffing at the musty air. +Anthony ran around opening windows and +explaining the “points” of the house. +When they had been over it Mrs. Dingley, +warm and weary, subsided upon the door-step, +while Juliet and Anthony fell to discussing +the possibilities of the place.</p> +<p>“You see,” said Anthony, mopping his +heated brow, “it isn’t like having big, high +rooms to decorate. These little rooms,”—he +put up his hand and succeeded, from +his fine height, in touching the ceiling of +the lower front room in which they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +stood—“won’t stand anything but the most simple +treatment, and expensive papers and upholsteries +would be out of place. It will +take only very small rugs to suit the floors. +The main thing for you to think of will be +colours and effects. You’ll find five hundred +dollars will go a long way, even after +the repairs and outside painting are disposed +of.”</p> +<p>He looked so appealing that Juliet could +but answer heartily: “Yes, I’m sure of it. +And now, Tony, don’t you think you’d +better draw a plan of the house, putting in +all the measurements, so we shall know just +how to go to work? And I will go around +and dream a while in each room. Give me +the photograph, you devoted lover, so I +can plan things to suit <i>her</i>.”</p> +<p>Anthony laughed and put his hand into +his breast-pocket. But he drew it out +empty.</p> +<p>“Why—I’ve left it behind,” he admitted +in some embarrassment. “I really thought +I had it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Tony! And on this very trip when +we needed it most! How could you leave +it behind? Don’t you always carry it next +your heart?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></p> +<p>“Is that the prescribed place?”</p> +<p>“Certainly. I should doubt a man’s love +if he did not constantly wear my likeness +right where it could feel his heart beating +for me.”</p> +<p>“Now I never supposed,” remarked Anthony, +considering her attentively, “that +you had so much romance about you. Do +you realise that for an extremely practical +young person such as you have—mostly—appeared +to be, that is a particularly sentimental +suggestion? Er—should you wear +his in the same way, may I inquire?”</p> +<p>“Of course,” returned Juliet with defiance +in her eyes, whose lashes, when they fell +at length before his steadily interested gaze, +swept a daintily colouring cheek.</p> +<p>“Have you ever worn one?” inquired +this hardy young man, nothing daunted +by these signs of righteous indignation. +But all he got for answer was a vigorous:</p> +<p>“You absurd boy! Now go to work at +your measurements. I’m going upstairs. +There’s one room up there, the one with the +gable corners and the little bits of windows, +that’s perfectly fascinating. It must be +done in Delft blue and white. Since I +haven’t the photograph”—she turned on the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +threshold to smile roguishly back at him—“memory +must serve. Beautiful dark hair; +eyes like a Madonna’s; a perfect nose; the +dearest mouth in the world—oh, yes——”</p> +<p>She vanished around the corner only to +put her head in again with the air of one who +fires a parting shot at a discomfited enemy: +“But, Tony—do you honestly think the +house is large enough for such a queen of +a woman? Won’t her throne take up the +whole of the first floor?”</p> +<p>Then she was gone up the diminutive +staircase, and her light footsteps could be +heard on the bare floors overhead. Left +alone, Anthony Robeson stood still for a +moment looking fixedly at the door by +which she had gone. The smile with +which he had answered her gay fling had +faded; his eyes had grown dark with a +singular fire; his hands were clenched. Suddenly +he strode across the floor and stopped +by the door. He was looking down at the +quaint old latch which served instead of +a knob. Then, with a glance at the unconscious +back of Mrs. Dingley, sitting sleepily +on the little porch outside, he stooped and +pressed his lips upon the iron where Juliet’s +hand had lain.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_SHOPPING_WITH_A_CHAPERON' id='III_SHOPPING_WITH_A_CHAPERON'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +<h2>III.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Shopping with a Chaperon</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“Five hundred dollars,” mused Miss +Marcy, on the Boston train next morning. +“Six rooms—living-room, dining-room, +kitchen, and three bedrooms. That’s——”</p> +<p>“You forget,” warned Anthony Robeson +from the seat where he faced Juliet and +Mrs. Dingley. “That must cover the outside +painting and repairs. You can’t figure +on having more than three hundred dollars +left for the inside.”</p> +<p>“Dear me, yes,” frowned Juliet. She +held Anthony’s plan in her hand, and her +tablets and pencil lay in her lap. “Well, +I can spend fifty dollars on each room—only +some will need more than others. The +living-room will take the most—no, the +dining-room.”</p> +<p>“The kitchen will take the most,” suggested +Mrs. Dingley. “Your range will use +up the most of your fifty. And kitchen +utensils count up very rapidly.”</p> +<p>“It will be a very small range,” Anthony +said. “A little toy stove would be more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +practical for our—the kitchen. How big is +it, Juliet?”</p> +<p>“‘Ten by fourteen,’” read Juliet. “From +the centre of the room you can hit all the +side walls with the broom. Speaking of +walls, Tony—those must be our first consideration. +If we get our colour scheme +right everything else will follow. I have +it all in my head.”</p> +<p>So it proved. But it also proved, when +they had been hard at work for an hour at +a well-known decorator’s, that the tints +and designs for which Miss Marcy asked +were not readily to be found in the low-priced +wall-papers to which Anthony +rigidly held her.</p> +<p>“I must have the softest, most restful +greens for the living-room,” she announced. +“There—<i>that</i>——”</p> +<p>“But that is a dollar a roll,” whispered +Anthony.</p> +<p>“Then—<i>that</i>!”</p> +<p>“Eighty-five cents.”</p> +<p>“But for that little room, Tony——”</p> +<p>“Twenty-five cents a roll is all we can +allow,” insisted Anthony firmly. “And +less than that everywhere else.”</p> +<p>The salesman was very obliging, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +showed the best things possible for the +money. It was impossible to resist the +appeal in the eyes of this critical but restricted +young buyer.</p> +<p>“There, that will do, I think,” said Juliet +at length, with a long breath. “The green +for the living-room and for the bit of a hall—No, +no, Tony; I’ve just thought! You +must take away that little partition and let +the stairs go up out of the living-room. +That will improve the apparent size of +things wonderfully.”</p> +<p>“All right,” agreed Anthony obediently.</p> +<p>“Then we’ll put that rich red in the +dining-room. For upstairs there is the +tiny rose pattern, and the Delft blue, and +that little pale yellow and white stripe. +In the kitchen we’ll have the tile pattern. +We won’t have a border anywhere—the +rooms are too low; just those simplest +mouldings, and the ivory white on the ceilings. +The woodwork must all be white. +There now, that’s settled. Next come the +floors.”</p> +<p>There could be no doubt that Juliet was +becoming interested in her task. Though +the July heat was intense she led the way +with rapid steps to the place where she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +meant to select her rugs. Here the three +spent a trying two hours. It was hard to +please Miss Marcy with Japanese jute rugs, +satisfactory in colouring though many of +them were, when she longed to buy Persian +pieces of distinction. If Juliet had a +special weakness it was for choice antique +rugs.</p> +<p>She cornered Anthony at last, while Mrs. +Dingley and the salesman were politely but +unequivocally disputing over the quality +of a certain piece of Chinese weaving.</p> +<p>“Tony,” she begged, “please let me get +that one dear Turkish square for the living-room. +It will give character to the whole +room, and the colours are perfectly exquisite. +I simply can’t get one of those +cheap things to go in front of that beautiful +old fireplace. Imagine the firelight +on that square; it would make you want to +spend your evenings at home. Please!”</p> +<p>“Do you imagine that I shall ever want +to spend them anywhere else?” asked +Tony softly, looking down into her appealing +face. “Why, chum, I’d like to get that +Tabriz you admire so much, if it would +please you, in spite of the fact that we +should have to pull the whole house up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +forty notches to match it. But even the +Turkish square is out of the question.”</p> +<p>“But, Tony”—Juliet was whispering now +with her head a little bent and her eyes +on the lapel of his coat—“won’t you let me +do it as my—my contribution? I’d like to +put something of my own into your house.”</p> +<p>“You dear little girl,” Anthony answered—and +possibly for her own peace of mind +it was fortunate that Miss Langham, of +California, could not see the look with +which he regarded Miss Marcy, of Massachusetts—“I’m +sure you would. And you +are putting into it just what is priceless to +me—your individuality and your perfect +taste. But I can’t let even you help furnish +that house. She—must take what I—and +only I—can give her.”</p> +<p>“You’re perfectly ridiculous,” murmured +Juliet, turning away with an expression of +deep displeasure. “As if she wouldn’t bring +all sorts of elegant stuff with her, and make +your cheap things look insignificant.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think she will,” returned Anthony +with conviction. “She’ll bring nothing +out of keeping with the house.”</p> +<p>“I thought you told me she was of a +wealthy family.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></p> +<p>“She is. But if she marries me she leaves +all that behind. I’ll have no wife on any +other basis.”</p> +<p>“Well—for a son of the Robesons of +Kentucky you are absolutely the most +absurd boy anybody ever heard of,” declared +the girl hotly under her breath. Then +she walked over and ordered a certain inexpensive +rug for the living-room with the +air of a princess and the cheeks of a poppy.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_THE_COST_OF_FROCKS' id='IV_THE_COST_OF_FROCKS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +<h2>IV.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Cost of Frocks</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>It may have been that Miss Marcy was +piqued into trying to see how little she +could spend, but certain it was that from +the time she left the carpet shop she begged +for no exceptions to Mr. Robeson’s rule of +strict economy. She selected simple, delicate +muslins for the windows, one and all, +without a glance at finer draperies; bought +denims and printed stuffs as if she had never +heard of costlier upholsteries; and turned +away from seductive pieces of Turkish and +Indian embroideries offered for her inspection +with a demure, “No, I don’t care to +look at those now,” which more than once +brought a covert smile to Anthony’s lips +and a twinkle to the eyes of the salesman. +It was so very evident that the fair buyer +did not pass them by for lack of interest.</p> +<p>Altogether, it was an interesting week +these three people spent—for a week it +took. Anthony began to protest after the +first two days, and said he could not ask so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +much of his friends. But Juliet would not +be hindered from taking infinite pains, and +Mrs. Dingley good humouredly lent the two +her chaperonage and her occasional counsel, +such as only the gray-haired matron of long +housewifely experience can furnish.</p> +<p>The selection of the furniture took perhaps +the most time, and was the hardest, +because of the difficulty of finding good +styles in keeping with the limited purse. +Anthony possessed a number of good pieces +of antique character, but beyond these +everything was to be purchased. Juliet +turned in despair from one shop after +another, and when it came to the fitting +of the dining-room she grew distinctly +indignant.</p> +<p>“It’s a perfect shame,” she said, “that +they can’t offer really good designs in the +cheap things. Did you ever see anything +so hideous? Tony, if I were you I’d rather +eat my breakfast off one of those white +kitchen tables—or——”</p> +<p>She broke off suddenly, rushed away +down the long room to a group of chastely +elegant dining-room furniture and came +back after a little with a face of great eagerness +to drag her companions away with her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +She took them to survey a set of the costliest +of all.</p> +<p>“Have you gone crazy?” Anthony inquired.</p> +<p>“Not at all. Tony, just study that table. +It’s massive, but it’s simple—simple as +beauty always is. Look at those perfectly +straight legs—what clever cabinet maker +couldn’t copy that in—in ash, Tony? Then +there are stains—I’ve heard of them—that +rub into wood and then finish in some way +so it’s smooth and satiny. You could do +that—I’m sure you could. Then you’d get +the lovely big top you want. And the +chairs—do you see the plain, solid-looking +things? I know they could be made this +way. Then the dining-room would be +simply dear!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“Juliet, you’re coming on,” declared +Anthony with satisfaction that evening as +the two, back at the Marcy country place, +strolled slowly over the lawn toward the +river edge. “At this rate you’ll do for a +poor man’s wife yourself some day. That +frock you have on now—isn’t that a sort of +concession to the humble company you’re +in?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></p> +<p>“In what way?” Juliet glanced down at +the pale-green gown whose delicate skirts +she was daintily lifting, and in which she +looked like a flower in its calyx. She had +rejoiced to exchange the dusty dress in +which she had come home from town for +this, which suggested coolness in each fresh +fold.</p> +<p>“Why, it strikes me as about the simplest +dress I ever saw you wear. Isn’t it really—well—the +least expensive thing you have +had in that line in some time?”</p> +<p>The amused laugh with which this observation +was greeted might have been disconcerting +to anybody but Anthony Robeson, +but he maintained his ground with +calmness.</p> +<p>“How many of these do you think you +can furnish Mrs. Anthony with in a year?” +Juliet inquired, her lips forcing themselves +to soberness, but the laughter lingering in +her eyes.</p> +<p>“Several, as girlishly demure as that, I +fancy,” asserted the young man with confidence.</p> +<p>But Juliet’s momentary gravity broke +down. “Oh, you clever boy!” she said. +“I shall advise Mrs. Anthony to send you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +shopping for her when she needs a new +frock. You will order home just what she +wants without stopping to ask the price, +you will be so confident that you know a +cheap thing when you see it. Afterward +you will pay the bill—and then the awful +frown on your brow! You will have to +live on bread and milk for a month to get +your accounts straightened out. Oh, Tony!—No, +I shouldn’t do for a poor man’s +wife—not judging by this ‘girlishly demure’ +gown, you poor lamb.—But, Tony,” with +a swift change of manner, “I do think the +little house will be very charming indeed. +I can hardly wait to know that the painting +and papering are done, so that we can go +down and get things in order. I long to +arrange those fascinating new tin things +in that bit of a cupboard. Tony”—turning +to him solemnly—“does <i>she</i> know how +to cook?”</p> +<p>“I think she is learning now,” he assured +her. “Seems to me she mentioned it in +to-day’s——” He fumbled in his breast-pocket +and brought out a letter.</p> +<p>Juliet stole an interested glance at it. +She observed that there were three closely +written sheets of the heavy linen paper, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +and that the handwriting was one suggestive +of a pleasing individuality. Anthony, in +the dim twilight, was scanning page after +page in a lover’s absorbed way. Juliet +walked along by his side in silence. She +was thinking of the face in the photograph, +and wondering if Miss Eleanor Langham +really loved Anthony Robeson as he deserved +to be loved.</p> +<p>“For he is a dear, dear fellow,” she said +to herself, “and if she could just see him +planning so enthusiastically for her comfort, +even if he does have to economise, +she’d——”</p> +<p>“No, it’s not in this letter,” observed +Anthony, putting the sheets together with +a lingering touch which did not escape +his companion’s quick eyes. “It must +have been in yesterday’s.”</p> +<p>“Does she write every day?”</p> +<p>“Did you ever hear of an engaged pair +who didn’t write every day?”</p> +<p>“It must take a good deal of your time,” +she remarked. “But, of course, she can +cook. Every sane girl takes a cooking-school +course nowadays. It’s as essential +as French.”</p> +<p>“You did, then?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></p> +<p>“Of course. Don’t you remember when +I used to edify you with new and wonderful +dishes every time you dropped in to +luncheon?”</p> +<p>“But did you learn the more important +things?”</p> +<p>“I paid especial attention to soups, sir,” +laughed Juliet. “Now, if Mrs. Anthony +has done that you can live very economically.”</p> +<p>“I’ll suggest it to her,” said Anthony +gravely.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_MUSLINS_AND_TACKHAMMERS' id='V_MUSLINS_AND_TACKHAMMERS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +<h2>V.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Muslins and Tackhammers</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>It took several trips to the small house, +and a great deal of hemming and ruffling of +muslin on the part of Juliet and the Marcy +sewing-woman, to say nothing of many +days of Anthony’s hard labour, to get +everything in place. But it was all done +at length, and the hour arrived to close the +new home and leave it to wait the oncoming +day in September when it should be permanently +opened.</p> +<p>“I’ll just go over it once more,” said +Juliet to Mrs. Dingley. The latter lady +was lying in a hammock out under the +apple trees, waiting for train time and her +final release from duties which were becoming +decidedly wearisome. It was the first +day of August, and the evening was a +warm one. Anthony had gone off upon +a last errand of some sort. Mrs. Dingley +was too exhausted to offer to accompany +her niece, and Juliet ran back into the +house alone. She wandered slowly through +the rooms, looking about to see if there +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +might be any perfecting touch which she +could add.</p> +<p>It was a charming place; even a daughter +of the house of Marcy could but own to +that. Under her skilful management the +little rooms had blossomed into a fresh, +satisfying beauty that needed only the +addition of the personal adornment which +Anthony’s bride would be sure to bring, to +become a home—the home not only of a +poor man but of a refined and cultured one +as well. Restricted though she had been +to the most inexpensive means of bringing +about this happy result, Juliet had made +them all tell toward an effect of great +harmony and beauty. Perhaps to nobody +was this more of a revelation than to the +girl herself.</p> +<p>She was very proud of the living-room, as +she looked about it. The partition between +it and the tiny hall had been removed, according +to her suggestion, and the straight +staircase altered by means of a landing and +an abrupt turn which transformed it into +picturesqueness. With its low, broad steps, +its slender spindles and odd posts, it added +much to the character of the room.</p> +<p>Like most old New England houses, this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +one’s chief glory was its great central +chimney, with big fireplaces opening both +into the living-room and the dining-room. +In the former, between the fireplace and the +staircase, and forming a suggestion of an +inglenook, Juliet had contrived a high, wide +seat, cushioned in dull green, and boasting +a number of pretty pillows. It must be +confessed that she had surreptitiously added +a little to these in the matter of certain +modestly rich bits of material, and she +contemplated the result with great satisfaction. +It may be remarked, with no +comment whatever, that in spite of their +beauty there was not a pillow of all those +scattered about the house which a weary +man might not tuck under his head without +fear of ruining a creation too delicate for +any use but to be admired.</p> +<p>Having seized upon the idea of staining +cheap material, she had carried it out in a +set of low bookcases across the end and +one side of the room. These awaited the +coming of the several hundreds of choice +books which Anthony had saved from his +father’s library. Two fine old portraits, +dear to the hearts of many generations of +the “Robesons of Kentucky,” lent distinction +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +to the home of their young descendant. +Altogether the room was both +quaint and artistic, and with its few plain +chairs and tables, mostly heirlooms, and all +of good old colonial design, was a room in +which one could readily imagine one’s self +sitting down to a winter evening of cosy +comfort, such as is not always to be had +in far finer abiding-places.</p> +<p>The dining-room was a study in its reds +and browns, and its home-made furniture +was an astonishing success—if one were +not too severely critical. As she surveyed +it Juliet seemed to see the future master +and mistress of this little home sitting down +opposite each other in the fireglow, and +smiling across.</p> +<p>The coming Mrs. Robeson, if one might +judge by her photograph, was a woman +to lend grace and dignity to her surroundings, +whatever they might be. Juliet could +imagine her pretty, stately way of presiding +at such small feasts as the room was destined +to see, making her guests quite forget +that she was not mistress of a mansion +equal to any in the land. Would she be +happy? Could she be happy here, after +all that she had had of another and very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +different sort of life? For some reason, as +Juliet stood and looked and thought, her +face grew very sober, and a long-drawn +breath escaped her lips.</p> +<p>The little kitchen was an exceedingly +alluring place, gay in the bravery of fresh +paint and spotless, shining utensils. There +were even crisp curtains—at eight cents a +yard—tied back at the high, wide-silled, +triple window with its diminutive panes. +It needed only a pot or two of growing +plants in the window, and a neat-handed +Phyllis in a figured gown, to be the old-time +kitchen of one’s dreams.</p> +<p>But it was upon the rooms on the upper +floor that Juliet had exhausted her imagination +and effort. Nothing could have been +conceived of more dainty than they. Here +her denims and muslins had run riot. Low +dressing-tables clad in ruffled hangings, +their padded tops delicate with the breath +of orris; beds valanced with similar stuffs; +high-backed chairs, their seats cushioned +into comfort—everything was done in the +cleverest imitation of the ancient styles in +keeping with the old-fashioned house. It +all made one think of the patter of high-heeled, +buckled slippers, and stiff, rustling, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +brocaded gowns, and powdered hair, and +the odours of long ago. Anthony would +never know what his friendly home-maker +had put into these rooms of sentiment and +charm.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_A_QUESTION_OF_IDENTITY' id='VI_A_QUESTION_OF_IDENTITY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +<h2>VI.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Question of Identity</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>At the door of the blue-and-white room, +the one upon which the girl had lavished her +most tender fancies, she stood at length, +looking in. And as she looked something +swam before her eyes. A sob rose in her +throat. She choked it back; she brushed +her hand across her face. Then she tried +to laugh. “Oh, what a goose I am!” she +said sternly to herself. And then she ran +across the room, sank upon her knees before +the window-seat with its blue and white +cushions, and burying her face in one of +them cried her wretched, jealous, longing +heart out.</p> +<p>Anthony, coming in hastily but softly +through the small kitchen, heard the rush +of footsteps overhead, and stopped. He +waited a moment, listening eagerly; then +he came noiselessly into the living-room and +stood still. His face, always strong and +somewhat stern in its repose, had in it to-night +a certain unusual intensity. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +looked at his watch and saw that there was +an hour before train time. Then he sat +down where he could see the top of the +staircase and waited.</p> +<p>By and by light footsteps crossed the +floor above and came through the little +hall. From where he sat Anthony caught +the gleam of Juliet’s crisp linen skirt. +Presently she came slowly down. As she +turned upon the landing she met Anthony’s +eyes looking up. In a fashion quite unusual +to the straightforward gaze of his +friend her eyes fell. He saw that her +cheeks were pale. He rose to meet her.</p> +<p>“Come and rest,” he said. “You are +tired. You have worked too hard. Such +a helper a man never had before. And +you have made a wonderful success. Juliet, +I can’t thank you. It’s beyond that.”</p> +<p>But she would not be led to the cosy +corner by the window. She found something +needing her attention in the curtain +of the bookcase in the dimmest corner of +the room, and began solicitously to pull it in +various ways, as if there were something +wrong with it. He watched her, standing +with his arm on the high chimney-piece.</p> +<p>“I think you enjoyed it just a little bit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +yourself, though,” he observed. “Didn’t +you, chum?”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed,” said Juliet.</p> +<p>Her back was toward him, her head bent +down, but his quick ear detected a peculiar +quality in her voice. He questioned her +again hurriedly.</p> +<p>“You’re not sorry you did it?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no,” said Juliet.</p> +<p>Now there is not much in two such +simple replies as these to indicate the state +of one’s mind and heart; but when a girl +has been crying stormily and uninterruptedly +for a half-hour, and is only not +crying still because she is holding back the +torrent of her unhappiness by sheer force of +will, it is radically impossible to say so +much as four words in a perfectly natural +way. Anthony understood in a breath +that the unfamiliar note in his friend’s +voice was that of tears. And, strange to +say, into his face there flashed a look of +triumph. But he only said very gently:</p> +<p>“Come here a minute—will you, Juliet?”</p> +<p>She bent lower over the curtain. Then +she stood up, without looking at him, and +moved toward the door.</p> +<p>“I believe I’m rather tired,” she said in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +a low tone. “It has been so warm all day, +and I—I have a headache.”</p> +<p>In three steps he came after her, stopping +her with his hand grasping hers as she would +have left the room.</p> +<p>“Come back—please,” he urged. “Your +aunt is asleep out there, I think. I wanted +to go over the house once more with you, if +you would. But you’re too tired for that. +Just come back and sit down in this nook +of yours, and let’s talk a little.”</p> +<p>She could not well refuse, and he put her +into a nest of cushions, arranging them +carefully behind her back and head, and +sat down facing her. He had placed her +just where the waning light from the +western sky fell full on her face; his own +was in the shadow. He was watching her +unmercifully—she felt that, and desperately +turned her face aside, burying in a friendly +pillow the cheek which was colouring under +his gaze.</p> +<p>“Is the headache so bad?” he asked +softly. “I never knew Juliet Marcy to +have a headache before. Poor little girl—dear +little girl—who has worked so hard +to please her old friend.” He leaned forward +and she felt his hand upon her hair. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +The tenderness in his voice and touch were +carrying away all her defences. But he +went on without giving her respite.</p> +<p>“Do you think <i>she</i> will be happy here, +chum? Will it take the place of the old +life for a few years, till I can give her more? +She’ll have nothing here, you know, outside +of this little home, but my love. That +wouldn’t be enough for any ordinary +woman, would it?”</p> +<p>She was not looking at him, but she could +see him as plainly as if she were. Always +she had thought him the strongest, best +fellow she knew. He had been her devoted +friend so long; she had not realised in the +least until lately how it was going to seem +to get on without him. But she knew now.</p> +<p>She felt a dreadful choking in her throat +again. It seemed to be closely connected +with another peculiar sensation, as if her +heart had turned into a lump of lead. In +another minute she knew that she should +break down, which would be humiliating +beyond words. She started up from her +cushions with a fierce attempt to keep a +grip upon herself.</p> +<p>“I know you’re very happy,” she +breathed, “and I’m very glad. But really +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +I—I’m not at all sentimental to-night. +I’m afraid a headache does not make +one sympathetic.”</p> +<p>But she could not get past him; Anthony’s +stalwart figure barred the way. His strong +hands put her gently back among the +cushions. She turned her head away, fighting +hard for that thing she could not keep—her +self-control.</p> +<p>“Is it really a headache?” asked the low +voice in her ear. “Just a headache? Not +by any chance—a heartache, Juliet?”</p> +<p>“Anthony Robeson!” she cried, but +guardedly, lest the open window betray +her. “What do you mean? You say very +strange things. Why should I have a +heartache? Because you are marrying the +girl you love? How often have I begged +you to go and find her? Do you think I +would have done all this for her—and you—if +I had cared?”</p> +<p>She tried to look defiantly into his eyes—those +fine eyes of his which were watching +her so intently—tried to meet them steadily +with her own lovely, tear-stained ones—and +failed. Swiftly an intense colour dyed her +cheeks, and she dropped her head like a +guilty child. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p> +<p>“Of course I care—that is, in a way,” +she was somehow forced to admit before +the bar of his silence. “Why shouldn’t I +hate to lose the friend who used to carry my +books to school, and fought the other boys +for my sake, and has been a brother to me +all these years? Of course I do. And +when I am tired I cry for nothing—just +nothing. I——”</p> +<p>It was certainly a brave attempt at +eloquence, but perhaps it was not wonderfully +convincing. At all events it did not +keep Anthony from taking possession of +one of her hands and interrupting her with +a most irrelevant speech.</p> +<p>“Juliet, do you remember telling me +that you should expect a man who loved +you to carry your likeness always with +him? And you asked me for <i>hers</i>—and +I had to own I had left it behind. Yet I +had one with me then—it is always with +me—and that was why I forgot the other. +Look.”</p> +<p>He drew out a little silver case, and +Juliet, reluctantly releasing one eye from +the shelter of the friendly sofa pillow, saw +with a start her own face look smiling back +at her. It was a little picture of her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +girlish self which she had given him long +ago when he went away to college.</p> +<p>“No,” he said quickly, as he recognised +the indignant question which instantly +showed in her eyes, “I’m not disloyal to +Eleanor Langham. Because—dear—there +is no such person.”</p> +<p>With a little cry she flung herself away +from him among the pillows, hiding her +face from sight. There was a moment’s +silence while Anthony Robeson, his own +face growing pale with the immensity of the +stakes for which he played, made his last +venture.</p> +<p>“The little home is only for you, Juliet. +If you won’t share it with me it shall be +closed and sold. Perhaps it was an audacious +thing to do—it has come over me a +great many times that it was too audacious +ever to be forgiven. But I couldn’t help +the hope that if you should make the home +yourself you might come to feel that life +with a man who had his way to make +could be borne after all—if you loved him +enough. It all depended on that. As I +said, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous, +but it was a desperate chance with me, +dear. I couldn’t give you up, and I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +thought perhaps—just <i>perhaps</i>—you cared—more +than you knew. Anyhow—I loved +you so—I had to risk it.”</p> +<p>Juliet’s charming brown head was buried +so deep in the pillows that only its back +with the masses of waving, half-rumpled +hair was visible. But up from the depths +came a smothered question:</p> +<p>“The photograph?”</p> +<p>Anthony’s face lightened as if the sun +had struck it, but he kept his voice quiet. +“Borrowed—it’s my old friend Dennison’s. +I never even saw the girl—though I ought +to beg her pardon for the use I have made +of her face. She’s married now, and lives +abroad somewhere. Will you forgive me?”</p> +<p>He was standing over her, leaning down +so that his cheek touched the rumpled hair. +“How is it, Juliet? Could you live in the +little home—with love—and me?”</p> +<p>It was a long time before he got any +answer. But at last a flushed, wet, radiant +face came into view, an arm was reached +out, and as with an inarticulate, deep note +of joy he drew her up into his embrace, a +voice, half tears, half laughter, cried:</p> +<p>“Oh, Tony—you dear, bad, darling, insolent +boy! I did think I could do without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +you—but I can’t. And—oh, Tony”—she +was sobbing in his arms now, while he +regarded the top of her head with laughing, +exultant eyes—“I’m so glad—so glad—<i>so +glad</i>—there isn’t any Eleanor Langham! +Oh, <i>how</i> I hated her!”</p> +<p>“Did you, sweetheart?” he answered, +laughing aloud now. Then bending, with +his lips close to hers—“well, to tell the truth—to +tell the honest truth, little girl—<i>so +did I</i>!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_AN_ARGUMENT_WITHOUT_LOGIC' id='VII_AN_ARGUMENT_WITHOUT_LOGIC'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +<h2>VII.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>An Argument Without Logic</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“I don’t like it,” repeated Mr. Horatio +Marcy, obstinately, and shook his head for +the fifth time. “I’ve not a word to say +against Anthony, my dear—not a word. +He’s a fine fellow and comes of a good +family, and I respect him and the start he +has made since things went to pieces, +but——”</p> +<p>Juliet waited, her eyes downcast, her +cheeks very much flushed, her mouth in +lines of mutiny.</p> +<p>“But—” her father continued, settling +back in his chair with an air of decision, +“you will certainly make the mistake of +your life if you think you can be happy in +the sort of existence he offers you. You’re +not used to it. You’ve not been brought +up to it. You can spend more money in a +forenoon than he can earn in a twelve-month. +You don’t know how to adapt +yourself to life on a basis of rigid economy. +I——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></p> +<p>“You don’t forbid it, sir?”</p> +<p>“Forbid it?—no. A man can’t forbid a +twenty-four year old woman to do as she +pleases. But I advise you—I warn you—I +ask you seriously to consider what it all +means. You are used to very many habits +of living which will be entirely beyond +Anthony’s means for many years to come. +You are fond of travel—of dress—of social——”</p> +<p>“Father dear,” said his daughter, interrupting +him gently by a change of tactics. +She came to him and sat upon the arm of +his chair, and rested her cheek lightly upon +the top of his thick, iron-gray locks.—“Let’s +drop all this for the present. Let’s not +discuss it. I want you to do me a particular +favour before we say another word +about it. Come with me down to see the +house. It’s only three hours away. We +can go after breakfast to-morrow and be +back for dinner at seven. It’s all I ask. +My arguments are all there. Please!—<i>Please!</i>”</p> +<p>So it came about that at eleven o’clock +on a certain morning in August, Mr. +Horatio Marcy discovered himself to be +eyeing with critical, reluctant gaze a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +quaintly attractive, low-spreading white +house among trees and vines. He became +aware at the same time of a sudden close +clasp on his arm.</p> +<p>“Here it is,” said a low voice in his ear. +“Does it look habitable?”</p> +<p>“Very pretty, very pretty, my dear,” +Mr. Marcy admitted. No sane man could +do otherwise. The little house might have +been placed very comfortably between the +walls of the dining-room at the Marcy +country house, but there was an indefinable, +undeniable air of gracious hospitality and +homelikeness about its aspect, and its surroundings +gave it an appearance of being +ample for the accommodation of any two +people not anxious to get away from each +other.</p> +<p>Juliet produced an antique door-key of +a clumsy pattern, and opened the door into +the living-room. She ran across to the +windows and threw them open, then turned +to see what expression might be at the +moment illumining Mr. Marcy’s face. He +was glancing about him with curious eyes, +which rested finally upon the portrait of a +courtly gentleman in ruffles and flowing +hair, hanging above the fireplace. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +adjusted a pair of eyeglasses and gave the +portrait the honour of his serious attention.</p> +<p>“That is an ancestor,” Juliet explained. +“Doesn’t he give distinction to the room? +And isn’t the room—well—just a little bit +distinguished-looking itself, in spite of its +simplicity?—because of it, perhaps. The +tables and most of the chairs are what +Anthony found left in the old Kentucky +homestead after the sale last year, and +bought in with—the last of his money.” +Her eyes were very bright, but her voice +was quiet.</p> +<p>Mr. Marcy looked at the furniture in +question, stared at the walls, then at the +rug on the polished floor. The rug held his +attention for two long minutes, then he +glanced sharply at his daughter.</p> +<p>“The colourings of that rug are very +good, don’t you think?” she asked with +composure. “It will last until Anthony +can afford a better one.”</p> +<p>Mr. Marcy turned significantly toward +the door of the dining-room, and Juliet led +him through. He surveyed the room in +silence, laying a hand upon a chair back; +then looked suddenly down at the chair +and brought his eyeglasses to bear upon it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span></p> +<p>“The furniture was made by a country +cabinet-maker who charged country prices +for doing it. Tony rubbed in a very thin +stain and rubbed the wood in oil afterward +till it got this soft polish.”</p> +<p>The visitor looked incredulous, but he +accepted the explanation with a polite +though exceedingly slight smile. Then he +was taken to inspect the kitchen. From +here he was led through the pantry back +to the living-room, and so upstairs. He +looked, still silently, in at the door of each +room, exquisite in its dainty readiness for +occupancy. As he studied the blue-and-white +room his daughter observed that he +retained less of the air of the connoisseur +than he had elsewhere exhibited. She had +shown him this place last with artful intent. +No room in his own homes of luxury could +appeal to him with more of beauty than +was visible here.</p> +<p>When Mr. Marcy reached the living-room +again he found himself placed gently but +insistently in the easiest chair the room +afforded, close by an open window through +which floated all the soft odours of country +air blowing lightly across apple orchards +and gardens of old-fashioned flowers. His +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +daughter, bringing from the ingle seat a +plump cushion, dropped upon it at his feet. +But instead of beginning any sort of argument +she laid her arm upon his knee, and +her head down upon her arm, and became +as still as a kitten who has composed itself +for sleep. Only through the contact of +the warm young arm, her father could feel +that she was alive and waiting for his +speech.</p> +<p>When he spoke at last it was with grave +quiet, in a gentler tone than that which he +had used the day before in his own library.</p> +<p>“You helped Anthony furnish this +house?”</p> +<p>“Yes, father.”</p> +<p>“Do you mind telling me how much you +had at your disposal?”</p> +<p>“Five hundred dollars.” Juliet maintained +her position without moving, and +her face was out of sight.</p> +<p>“Did this include the repairs upon the +place?”</p> +<p>“Yes—but you know wages are low just +now and lumber is cheap. Having no roof +to the porch made it inexpensive. The +painting Anthony helped at himself. He +worked every minute of his two weeks’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +vacation on whatever would cost most to +hire done.”</p> +<p>“Anthony worked at painting the house?” +There was astonishment in Mr. Marcy’s +voice. He had known the Robesons of +Kentucky all his life. He had never seen +one of them lift his hand to do manual +labour. There had been no need.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Juliet, and the cheek which +rested against her father’s knee began to +grow warm.</p> +<p>“You have obtained a somewhat extraordinary +effect of harmony and comfort +inside the house,” Mr. Marcy pursued. “It +is difficult to understand just how you +brought it about with so small an expenditure +of money.”</p> +<p>It was quite impossible now for Juliet +to keep her head down. She looked up +eagerly, but she still managed to speak +quietly.</p> +<p>“It <i>is</i> effect, father, and it is art—not +money. The paper on the wall cost twenty-five +cents a roll, but it is the right paper for +the place, and the wrong paper at ten +times that sum wouldn’t give the room such +a background of soft restfulness. Then, +you see, the old white woodwork is in very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +good style, and the green walls bring it out. +The old floor was easily dressed to give that +beautiful waxed finish. They told me +how to do that at the best decorator’s in +Boston. The rug fits the colourings very +well. Anthony’s old furniture would give +any such room dignity. The portrait lends +the finishing touch, I think. You see, when +you analyse it all there’s nothing in the least +wonderful. But it looks like a home—doesn’t +it? And when the little things are +in which grow in a home—the photographs, +a bowl of sweet-williams from the garden, +the lovely old copper lamp you gave me on +my birthday—can’t you think how dear it +will all be?”</p> +<p>Mr. Marcy glanced down keenly into his +daughter’s face.</p> +<p>“There are a great many things of your +own at home which would naturally come +into your married home,” he said.</p> +<p>Juliet coloured richly. “Yes,” she answered +with steady eyes, “but except for +the lamp, and the photographs, and a few +such very little things, I should not bring +them. Anthony is poor, but he is very +proud. I couldn’t hurt him by furnishing +his home with the overflow of mine. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +Besides—I don’t need those things. I +don’t want them. All I want out of the +old home is—your love—your blessing, +dear!”</p> +<p>The sharp eyes meeting hers softened +suddenly. Juliet drew herself to her knees, +and leaning forward across her father’s lap, +reached both arms up and flung them about +his neck. He held her close, her head upon +his shoulder, and all at once he found the +slender figure in his arms shaken with +feeling. Juliet was not crying, but she was +drawing long, deep breaths like a child who +tries to control itself.</p> +<p>“You need have no doubt of either of +those things, my little girl,” said her father +in her ear. “Both are ready. It is only +your happiness I want. I distrust the +power of any poor man to give it to you. +That is all. Since I have seen this house +the question looks less doubtful to me—I +admit that gladly. But I still am anxious +for the future. Even in this attractive +place there must be monotony, drudgery, +lack of many things you have always had +and felt you must have. You have never +learned to do without them. I understand +that Robeson will not accept them at my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +hand, nor at yours. I don’t know that I +think the less of him for that—but—you +will have to learn self-denial. I want you +to be very sure that you can do it, and that +it will be worth while.”</p> +<p>There was a little silence, then Juliet +gently drew herself away and rose to her +feet. She stood looking down at the imposing +figure of the elderly man in the chair, +and there was something in her face he had +never seen there before.</p> +<p>“There’s just one thing about it, sir,” +she said. “I can’t possibly spare Anthony +Robeson out of my life. I tried to do it, +and I know. I would rather live it out in +this little home—with him—than share the +most promising future with any other man. +But there’s this you must remember: A +man who was brought up to do nothing but +ride fine horses, and shoot, and dance, must +have something in him to go to work and +advance, and earn enough to buy even such +a home as this, in five years. He has a +future of his own.”</p> +<p>Mr. Marcy looked thoughtful. “Yes, +that may be true,” he said. “I rather +think it is.”</p> +<p>“And, father——” she bent to lay a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +roseleaf cheek against his own—“you began +with mother in a poorer home than this, +and were so happy! Don’t I know that?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, dear,” he sighed. “That’s +true, too. But we were both poor—had +always been so. It was an advance for us—not +a coming down.”</p> +<p>“It’s no coming down for me.” There +was spirit and fire in the girl’s eyes now. +“Just to wear less costly clothes—to walk +instead of drive—to live on simpler food—what +are those things? Look at these,” +she pointed to the rows of books in the +bookcases which lined two walls of the +room. “I’m marrying a man of refinement, +of family, of the sort of blood that +tells. He’s an educated man—he loves the +things those books stand for. He’s good +and strong and fine—and if I’m not safe +with him I’ll never be safe with anybody. +But besides all that—I—I love him with +all there is of me. Oh—<i>are</i> you satisfied +now?”</p> +<p>Blushing furiously she turned away. Her +father got to his feet, stood looking after +her a moment with something very tender +coming into his eyes, then took a step +toward her and gathered her into his arms.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_ON_ACCOUNT_OF_THE_TEAKETTLE' id='VIII_ON_ACCOUNT_OF_THE_TEAKETTLE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +<h2>VIII.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>On Account of the Tea-Kettle</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“This is the nineteenth day of August,” +observed Anthony Robeson. “We finished +furnishing the house for my future bride +on the third day of the month. Over two +weeks have gone by since then. The place +must need dusting.”</p> +<p>He glanced casually at the figure in white +which sat just above him upon the step of +the great porch at the back of the Marcy +country house. It was past twilight, the +moon was not yet up, and only the glow +from a distant shaded lamp at the other end +of the porch served to give him a hint as to +the expression upon his companion’s face.</p> +<p>“I’m beginning to lie awake nights,” he +continued, “trying to remember just how +my little home looks. I can’t recall whether +we set the tea-kettle on the stove or left it +in the tin-closet. Can you think?”</p> +<p>“You put it on the stove yourself,” said +Juliet. “You would have filled it if Auntie +Dingley hadn’t told you it would rust.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span></p> +<p>Anthony swerved about upon the heavy +oriental rug, which covered the steps, until +his back rested against the column; he +clasped his arms about one knee, and inclined +his head at the precise angle which +would enable him to study continuously +the shadowy outlines of the face above him, +shot across with a ruby ray from the lamp. +“I wish I could recollect,” he pursued, +“whether I left the porch awning up or +down. It has rained three times in the +two weeks. It ought not to be down.”</p> +<p>“I’m sure it isn’t,” Juliet assured him. +There was a hint of laughter in her voice.</p> +<p>“It was rather absurd to put up that +awning at all, I suppose. But when you +can’t afford a roof to your piazza, and +compromise on an awning instead, you +naturally want to see how it is going to +look, and you rush it up. Besides, I think +there was a strong impression on my mind +that only a few days intervened before our +occupancy of the place. It shows how +misled one can be.”</p> +<p>There was no reply to this observation, +made in a depressed tone. After a minute +Anthony went on.</p> +<p>“These cares of the householder—they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +absorb me. I’m always wondering if the +lawn needs mowing, and if the new roof +leaks. I get anxious about the blinds—do +any of them work loose and swing around +and bang their lives out in the night? Have +the neighbours’ chickens rooted up that row +of hollyhock seeds? Then those books I +placed on the shelves so hurriedly. Are +any of them by chance upside down? Is +Volume I. elbowed by Volume II. or by +Volume VIII.? And I can’t get away to +see. Coming up here every Saturday night +and tearing back every Sunday midnight +takes all my time.”</p> +<p>“You might spend next Sunday in the +new house.”</p> +<p>“Alone?”</p> +<p>“Of course. You have so many cares +they would keep you from getting lonely.”</p> +<p>Anthony made no immediate answer to +this suggestion, beyond laughing up at his +companion in the dim light for an instant, +then growing immediately sober again. +But presently he began upon a new aspect +of the subject.</p> +<p>“Juliet, are we to be married in church?”</p> +<p>“Tony!—I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“But what do you think?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></p> +<p>“I—don’t think.”</p> +<p>“What! Do you mean that?”</p> +<p>“No-o.”</p> +<p>“Of course you don’t. Well—what +about it?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“Are we to have a big wedding?”</p> +<p>“Do you want one?”</p> +<p>“I—but that’s not the question. Do +you want a big wedding?”</p> +<p>She hesitated an instant. Then she +answered softly, but with decision: “No.”</p> +<p>Anthony drew a long breath. “Thank +the Lord!” he said devoutly.</p> +<p>“Why?” she asked in some surprise.</p> +<p>“I’ve never exactly understood why the +boys I’ve been best man for were so miserable +over the prospect of a show wedding—but +I know now. A runaway marriage +appeals to me now as it never did before. +I want to be married—tremendously—but +I want to get it over.”</p> +<p>A soft laugh answered him. “We’ll +get it over.”</p> +<p>Anthony sat up suddenly. “Will we?” +he asked with eagerness. “When?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t say ‘when’!”</p> +<p>“Juliet—when are you going to say it?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></p> +<p>“Why, Tony—dear——”</p> +<p>“That’s right—put in the ‘dear,’” he +murmured. “I’ve heard mighty few of +’em yet, and they sound great to me——”</p> +<p>“We’ve been engaged only two weeks—”</p> +<p>“And two days——”</p> +<p>“And the little house isn’t spoiling, even +though you’re not sure about the tea-kettle +and the awning. I—you don’t want +to hurry things——”</p> +<p>“Don’t I!”—rebelliously.</p> +<p>“If I’m very good and say ‘Christmas’——”</p> +<p>“‘Christmas!’—Great Cæsar!”</p> +<p>“But, Tony——”</p> +<p>“Now see here—” he leaned forward and +stared up at her, without touching her—he +was as yet allowed few of the lover’s favours +and prized them the more for that—“do +you think our case is just like other people’s? +Here I’ve been waiting for you all my days—waiting +and waiting, and tortured all the +time by suspense. Then I lived that month +of July with my heart in my mouth—you’ll +never know what you put me through +those days, talking and jollying about +‘Eleanor Langham,’ and never for one instant, +until just that last day, giving me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +the smallest pinch of hope that it was anything +to you except just what it pretended +to be. Then—I’ve been a long time without +a home—and the little house—sweetheart—it +looks like Heaven to me. Must I +stay outside till Christmas—when everything’s +all ready? Confound it—I don’t +want to play the pathetic string, and the +Lord knows I’m happy as a fellow can be +who’s got the desire of his life. But——”</p> +<p>A warm hand came gently upon his hair, +and for joy at the touch he fell silent. Once +he turned his head and put his lips against +the white sleeve as it fell near, and looked +up an instant with eyes whose expression +the person above him felt rather than saw +through the subdued light. By and by she +took up the conversation.</p> +<p>“So you are rejoiced that I don’t want a +great wedding?”</p> +<p>“Immensely relieved.”</p> +<p>“What would you like best?”</p> +<p>“I don’t dare tell you.”</p> +<p>“You may.”</p> +<p>“Tell me what you would like, Julie.”</p> +<p>“Of course father would say the town +house, even if it were a small affair. Auntie +Dingley would probably agree to having +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +it here—if that were what you—we—wanted—that +is——”</p> +<p>Anthony looked up quickly. “Even at +Christmas?”</p> +<p>“Why—yes. We could come back. +People do that sometimes.”</p> +<p>“Yes. Must we do what other people +do?”</p> +<p>“Would you rather not?”</p> +<p>“Ten thousand times. It seems to me +that the biggest mistake people make is +the way they do this thing. Juliet—think +of the little house. We made it—you made +it. For years, without doubt, it’s to hold +us and our experiences. Do you know I’d +like to give it this one to begin with?—I’m +holding my breath!”</p> +<p>Plainly she was holding hers. Her head +was turned away—he could just see her +profile outlined against the ruby light. +And at the moment there were footsteps +inside a long French window near at hand +which lay open into the library. Mr. +Horatio Marcy came out and stood still +just behind them.</p> +<p>Anthony sprang to his feet, and came +forward up the steps. The older man +greeted him cordially. Anthony pulled a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +big chair into position, and Mr. Marcy sat +down. He was smoking and wore an air +of relaxation. He and his guest fell to +talking, the younger man entering into the +conversation with as much ease and spirit +as if he were not fresh from what was to +him at this hour a much more interesting +discussion. Juliet sat quietly and listened.</p> +<p>It grew into an absorbing argument after +a little, the two men taking opposite sides +of a great governmental question just then +claiming public interest. Mrs. Dingley +came out and joined the group, and she and +Juliet listened with increasing delight in +a contest of brains such as was now offered +them. Mr. Marcy himself, while he put +forth his arguments with conviction and +with skill, was evidently enjoying the keen +wit and wisdom of his young opponent. The +elder man met objection with objection, set +up men of straw to be knocked down, and +ended at last with a hearty laugh and a +frankly appreciative:</p> +<p>“Well, Anthony—you have convinced +me of one thing, certainly. There are more +sides to the question than I had understood. +I will admit that you’ve made a strong +argument. But when I come back I’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +down you with fresh material. I shall have +plenty of it.”</p> +<p>“Are you going away soon, sir?” Anthony +asked with some surprise. Mr. +Marcy was a frequent traveller, preferring to +look after various business interests in faraway +ports himself rather than entrust +them to others.</p> +<p>“Yes—I shall be off in a few weeks—and +for a longer time than usual. I haven’t +told these ladies of my household yet—but +this is as good a time as any. Juliet, little +girl—I may be gone all winter this time.”</p> +<p>She came quickly to him without speaking, +and gave him her regretful answer +silently.</p> +<p>“When do you go, Horatio?” Mrs. Dingley +asked.</p> +<p>“About the first of October. I hadn’t +fully decided till to-day. I had thought of +inviting you two to go with me.”</p> +<p>He looked with a smile at his sister and +his daughter, then somewhat quizzically +at Anthony. The latter was regarding him +with an alert face in which, as nearly as +could be made out in the dim light, were no +signs of discomfiture.</p> +<p>“Horatio,” said Mrs. Dingley, “I wish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +you would come into the library for a few +minutes. This reminds me of a letter I had +to-day from one of your old friends, asking +when you were to be at home.”</p> +<p>The French window closed on the two +older people. Juliet, left sitting on the +arm of her father’s chair, found Anthony +behind her.</p> +<p>“Do you want to go on a voyage to the +Philippines?” he was asking over her +shoulder.</p> +<p>“I’m not sure just what I do want,” she +answered rather breathlessly.</p> +<p>“The tea-kettle would rust while you +were gone.”</p> +<p>He got no reply.</p> +<p>“The dust would grow inches deep on the +dining-table we polished so carefully.”</p> +<p>Juliet rose and walked slowly to the edge +of the steps. Anthony followed. “Let’s +go and walk on the terrace,” he proposed, +and they ran down to the smooth sward +below. It was a warm night, with no dew, +and the short-shaven grass was dry. All +the stars were out. Anthony walked beside +the figure in white, his hands clasped behind +his back.</p> +<p>“Do white ruffled curtains like those at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +our windows ever grow musty from being +shut up?” he insinuated gently.</p> +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“Will you write from every port you +touch at? It will take a good many letters +to satisfy me.”</p> +<p>“I suppose so.”</p> +<p>“Suppose what? That you will write?”</p> +<p>Juliet stood still. “You’re the greatest +wheedler I ever saw,” she said.</p> +<p>“Is that a compliment?”</p> +<p>“It’s not meant for one. What am I +to do when I’m——”</p> +<p>“Married to me?—I don’t know, poor +child. I can only pity you. What do you +think the prospect is for me, never to be +able to get the smallest concession from +you except by every art of coaxing? Yet—if +I can get this thing I want, by any means—I +warn you I shall not give up until I’ve +seen you sail.”</p> +<p>“You’ll not see me sail.”</p> +<p>He wheeled upon her. He had her hand +in his grasp. “And if you don’t go?”</p> +<p>“I’ll stay.”</p> +<p>“With me?”</p> +<p>She laughed irresistibly. “How could I +stay without you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></p> +<p>“Will you marry me before your father +goes?”</p> +<p>“Oh, Tony, Tony——”</p> +<p>“We can’t be married without his blessing, +can we?”</p> +<p>“No—dear father.”</p> +<p>“Then——”</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you to-morrow,” said she.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_A_BISHOP_AND_A_HAYWAGON' id='IX_A_BISHOP_AND_A_HAYWAGON'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +<h2>IX.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Bishop and a Hay-Wagon</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Juliet Marcy’s prospective maid-of-honour +found Anthony Robeson’s best man +at her elbow the moment she entered the +waiting-room of the big railway station. +Now, although she greeted him with a +charming little conscious look, there was +nothing either new or singular about the +quiet rush he had made across the waiting-room +the instant he saw her. The rest of +the party of twenty people who were going +down into the country to the Marcy-Robeson +wedding understood it perfectly, although +the engagement had not been +announced and probably would not be until +Wayne Carey should have an income +decidedly larger than he had at present.</p> +<p>Judith Dearborn joined the group at once, +and Carey reluctantly followed her. Judith +had a way of joining groups and of giving +her betrothed many impatient half-hours +thereby.</p> +<p>“Just think of this,” she said to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +others. “When I knew Juliet had really +given in to Anthony Robeson at last I +thought I should be asked to assist at an +impressive church wedding. But here we +are going down to what Tony describes as +‘a box of a house’ in the most rural of +suburbs. If it’s really as small as he says +even twenty people will be a tight fit.”</p> +<p>“How in the world did they come to be +married there?” asked the sister of the +best man. Everybody had been summoned +to this wedding so hurriedly and so +informally that nobody knew much about it.</p> +<p>The son of the Bishop—whose father +was going down to perform the ceremony—answered +promptly:</p> +<p>“Tony tells me its Juliet’s own choice. +You see they furnished the house together, +with her aunt, Mrs. Dingley; and Juliet fell +so in love with it that she must needs be +married in it. What’s occurred to that +girl I don’t know. After the Robesons +of Kentucky lost their money and everything +else but their social standing I +thought it was all up with Anthony. But +he’s plucky. He’s made a way for himself, +and he’s won Juliet somehow. He seems to +be a late edition of that obstinate chap +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +who remarked ‘I will find a way or make +one.’ By Jove—he must have made one +when he convinced Juliet Marcy that she +could be happy in a house where twenty +people are a tight fit.”</p> +<p>When the train stopped at the small station +Judith Dearborn said in Wayne Carey’s +ear, as he glanced wonderingly from the +train: “Is this it? Juliet Marcy must be +perfectly crazy!”</p> +<p>“She certainly must,” admitted Robeson’s +best man. But he stifled a sigh. If +Juliet Marcy could do so crazy a thing as +to marry Anthony Robeson on the comparatively +small salary that young man—brought +up to do nothing at all—was now +earning, why must Wayne Carey wait for +several times that income before he could +have Juliet’s closest friend? Was there +really such a difference in girls?</p> +<p>But at the next instant he was shouting +hilariously, and so was everybody else except +the Bishop and the Bishop’s wife, who only +smiled indulgently. The rest of the party +were young people, and their glee brooked +no repression. The moment they reached +the little platform they comprehended not +only that they were coming to a most informal +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +wedding—they were also in for a +decidedly novel lark.</p> +<p>Close to the edge of the platform stood a +great hay-wagon, cushioned with fragrant +hay and garlanded with goldenrod and +purple asters. Standing erect on the front, +one hand grasping the reins which reached +out over a four-in-hand of big, well-groomed, +flower-bedecked farm horses, the other waving +a triumphant greeting to his friends, was +Anthony Robeson, in white from head to +foot, his face alight with happiness and +fun. He looked like a young king; there +could be no other comparison for his +splendid outlines as he towered there. And +better yet, he looked as he had ever looked, +through prosperity and through poverty, +like a “Robeson of Kentucky.”</p> +<p>Below him, prettier than she had ever +been—and that was saying much—her eyes +brilliant with the spirit of the day, laughing, +dressed also in white, a big white hat +drooping over her brown curls, stood Juliet +Marcy.</p> +<p>In a storm of salutations and congratulations +the guests rushed toward this extraordinary +equipage and the radiant pair who +were its charioteers. All regrets over the +probable commonplaceness of a small country +wedding had vanished.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-081.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 306px; height: 518px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 306px;'> +“Standing erect ... one hand grasping the reins ... was Anthony Robeson.”<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>“Might have known they would do things +up in shape somehow,” grunted the Bishop’s +son approvingly. “This is the stuff. Conventionality +be tabooed. They’re going to +the other extreme, and that’s the way to +do. If you don’t want an altar and candles, +and a high-mucky-muck at the organ, have +a hay-wagon. <i>Gee!</i>—Let me get up here +next to Ben Hur and the lady!”</p> +<p>Even the Bishop, sitting with clerical +coat-tails carefully parted, his handsome +face beaming benevolently from under his +round hat, and Mrs. Bishop, granted by +special dispensation a cushion upon the +hay seat, enjoyed that drive. Anthony, +plying a long, beribboned lash, aroused his +heavy-footed steeds into an exhilarating +trot, and the hay-wagon, carrying safely its +crew of young society people in their +gayest mood, swept over the half-mile +from the station to the house like a +royal barge.</p> +<p>As they drew up a chorus of “Oh’s!” not +merely polite but sincerely surprised and +admiring, recognised the quaint beauty of +the little house. It was no commonplace +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +country home now, though the changes +wrought had been comparatively slight. It +looked as if it might have stood for years +in just this fashion, yet it was as far removed +from its primitive characterless condition +as may be an artist’s drawing of a face upon +which he has altered but a line.</p> +<p>Mrs. Dingley and Mr. Horatio Marcy—a +pair whose presence anywhere would have +been a voucher for the decorum of the +most unconventional proceedings—welcomed +the party upon the wide, uncovered +porch.</p> +<p>“We’re going to be married very soon, to +have it over,” called Anthony. “But you +may explore the house first, so your minds +shall be at rest during the crisis. Just +don’t wander too far away in examining +this ancestral mansion. There are six +rooms. I should advise your going in line, +otherwise complications may occur in the +upper hall. Please don’t all try to get into +the kitchen at once; it can’t be done. It +will hold Juliet and me at the same time—all +the rooms have been stretched to do +that—they had to be; but I’m not sure as to +their capacity for more. Now make yourselves +absolutely at home. The place is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +yours—for a few hours. After that it’s +mine—and Juliet’s.”</p> +<p>He glanced, laughing, at his bride, as he +spoke from where he stood in the doorway. +She was on the little landing of the staircase, +at the opposite end of the living-room. She +looked down and across at him, and nearly +everybody in the room—they were thronging +through at the moment—caught that +glance. She was smiling back at him, and +her eyes lingered only an instant after they +met his, but her friends all saw. There +could be no question that the Juliet Marcy +who, since she had laid aside her pinafores, +had kept many men at bay, had at last +surrendered. As for Anthony——</p> +<p>“Why, he’s always been in love with +her,” said the Bishop’s son in the ear of the +best man, as in accordance with their +host’s permission they peeped admiringly +in at the little kitchen, “but any idiot can +see that he’s fairly off his feet now. Ideal +condition—eh? Say, this dining-room’s +great—Jove, it is. I’m going to get asked +out here to dinner as soon as they are back. +Let’s go upstairs. The girls are just coming +down—hear ’em gurgling over what +they saw?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p> +<p>Upstairs the best man looked in at the +blue-and-white room with eyes which one +with penetration might have said were +envious. Indeed, he stared at everything +with much the same expression. He was +the soberest man present. Ordinarily he +could be counted on to enliven such occasions, +but to-day his fits of hilarity were +only momentary, and during the intervals +he was observed by the Bishop’s son to be +gazing somewhat yearningly into space with +an abstraction new to him.</p> +<p>Nobody knew just how the moment for +the ceremony arrived. But when the survey +of the house was over and everybody +had instinctively come back to the living-room, +the affair was brought about most +naturally. The Bishop, at a word from the +best man, took his place in the doorway +opening upon the porch, which had been +set in a great nodding border of goldenrod. +Anthony, making his way among his guests, +came with a quiet face up to Juliet and, +bending, said softly, “Now, dear?” A hush +followed instantly, and the guests fell back +to places at the sides of the room. Anthony’s +best man was at his elbow, and the two +went over to the Bishop, to stand by his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +side. Mr. Marcy moved quietly into his +place. Juliet, with Judith, who had kept +beside her, walked across the floor, and +Anthony, meeting her, led her a step +farther to face the Bishop. It was but a +suggestion of the usual convention, and +Anthony, in his white clothes, surrounded +as he was by men in frock-coats, was +assuredly the most unconventional bridegroom +that had ever been seen. Juliet, +too, wore the simplest of white gowns, with +no other adornment than that of her own +beauty. Yet, somehow, as the guests, +grown sober in an instant, looked on and +noted these things, there was not one who +felt that either grace or dignity was lacking. +The rich voice of the Bishop was as impressive +as it had ever been in chancel or +at altar; the look on Anthony’s face was +one which fitted the tone in which he spoke +his vows; and Juliet, giving herself to the +man whose altered fortunes she was agreeing +to share, bore a loveliness which made +her a bride one would remember long—and +envy.</p> +<p>“There, that’s done,” said the Bishop’s +son with a gusty sigh of relief, which brought +the laugh so necessary to the relaxing of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +the tension which accompanies such scenes. +“Jove, it’s a good thing to see a fellow like +Robeson safely tied up at last. You never +can tell where these quixotic ideas about +houses and hay-wagons and weddings may +lead. It’s a terrible strain, though, to see +people married. I always tremble like a +leaf—I weigh only a hundred and ninety-eight +now, and these things affect me. +It’s so frightful to think what might happen +if they should trip up on their specifications.”</p> +<p>There was a simple wedding breakfast +served—by whom nobody could tell. It +was eaten out in the orchard—a pleasant +place, for the neglected grass had been close +cut, and an old-fashioned garden at one +side perfumed the air with late September +flowers. The trim little country maids +who brought the plates came from a willow-bordered +path which led presumably to the +next house, some distance down the road. +There were several innovations in the +various dishes, delicious to taste. Altogether +it was a little feast which everybody +enjoyed with unusual zest. And the life +of the party was the bridegroom.</p> +<p>“I never saw a fellow able to scintillate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +like that at his own wedding,” remarked +the son of the Bishop to the best man’s +sister. “Usually they are so completely +dashed by their own temerity in getting +into such an irretrievable situation that +they sit with their ears drooping and their +eyes bleared. Do you suppose it’s getting +married in tennis clothes that’s done it?”</p> +<p>“Tennis clothes!” cried the best man’s +sister with a merry laugh. “If you realised +how much handsomer he looks than you +men in your frock-coats you would not +make fun.”</p> +<p>“Make fun!” repeated the Bishop’s son +solemnly. “I joke only to keep my head +above water. I never in my life was so +completely submerged in the desire to get +married instantly and live in a picturesque +band-box. Nothing can keep me from it +longer than it takes to find the girl and the +band-box. If—if—” his voice dropped to +a whisper, and a hint of redness crept into +his face which belied his jesting words, +“you knew of the girl—I—er—say—should +you mind living in a band-box?”</p> +<p>The best man’s sister was the sort of girl +who can discern when even an inveterate +joker is daring to be somewhat more than +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +half in earnest, and she flushed so prettily +that the son of the Bishop caught her hand +boyishly under the little table. He had +hitherto been considered a hopeless old +bachelor, so it may readily be seen that, +now the contagion had caught him, his was +quite a serious case.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_ON_A_THRESHOLD' id='X_ON_A_THRESHOLD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +<h2>X.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>On a Threshold</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>When it was all over Judith Dearborn +went upstairs with Juliet to help her dress +for her going away. The maid-of-honour +looked about the blue-and-white room with +thoughtful eyes.</p> +<p>“This is certainly the dearest room I +ever saw,” she said. “Oh, Juliet, do you +think you really will be happy here?”</p> +<p>“What do you think about it, dear?” +asked Juliet.</p> +<p>“Oh—I—well, really—I never imagined +that a little old house like this could be +made so awfully attractive. But, Juliet—you—you +must be very, very fond of Anthony +to give up so many things. How +well he looked to-day. Seems to me he’s +grown gloriously in every way since he—since +his family came into so many misfortunes.”</p> +<p>Juliet smiled, but answered nothing.</p> +<p>“And you’re so different, too. Never in +my life would I have imagined you having +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +a wedding like this—and yet it’s been +absolutely the prettiest one I ever saw. +That’s a sweet gown to go away in—but +it’s the simplest thing you ever wore, I’m +sure. Juliet, where are you going?”</p> +<p>“We are going to drive through the +Berkshires in a cart.”</p> +<p>“Juliet Marcy!”</p> +<p>“‘Robeson,’” corrected Juliet with a +little laugh, but in a tone which it was a +pity Anthony could not hear. “Don’t +forget that. I’m so proud of the name. +And I think a drive through the Berkshires +will be a perfectly ideal trip.”</p> +<p>Judith Dearborn was not assisting the +bride at all. Instead she was sitting in a +chair, staring at Juliet with much the same +abstraction of manner observable in the +best man throughout the day.</p> +<p>“Of course you didn’t need to live this +way,” observed Miss Dearborn at length. +“You could have afforded to live much +more expensively.”</p> +<p>“No, I couldn’t,” said Juliet with a flash +in her eyes, though she smiled; “I couldn’t +have afforded to do one thing that would +hurt Tony’s pride. Why, Judith—he’s a +‘Robeson of Kentucky.’” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span></p> +<p>“Well, he looks it,” admitted Judith. +“And you’re a Marcy of Massachusetts. +The two go well together. Juliet, do you +know—somehow—I thought it was a fearful +sacrifice you were making, even for such +a man as Anthony—but—this blue-and-white +room——”</p> +<p>“Ah, this blue-and-white room——” repeated +Juliet. Then she came over and +dropped on her knees by her friend in her +impulsive way and put both arms around +her. The plain little going-away gown +touched folds with the one whose elegance +was equalled only by its cost. Anthony +Robeson’s wife looked straight up into the +eyes of her maid-of-honour and whispered:</p> +<p>“Judith, don’t put Wayne—and—your +blue-and-white room off too long. You +will not be any happier to wait—if you love +him.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Drawn up close to the door stood the +cart. Beside it waited Anthony. Around +the cart crowded twenty people. When +Juliet came through them to say good-bye +the son of the Bishop murmured:</p> +<p>“Er—Mrs. Robeson——”</p> +<p>“Yes, Mr. Farnham——” said Juliet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +promptly, her delicate flush answering the +name, as it had answered it many times +that day.</p> +<p>“When are you going to be at home to +your friends?”</p> +<p>“The fifteenth day of October,” said +Juliet. “And from then on, every day in +the week, every week in the year. Come +and see us—everybody. But don’t expect +any formal invitations.”</p> +<p>“I’ll be down,” declared the Bishop’s +son. “I’ll be down once a week.”</p> +<p>“Please don’t stay long after we are +gone,” requested Anthony, putting his bride +into the cart and springing in beside her. +He gathered up the reins. “Good-bye,” +he called. “Take this next train home. +It goes in an hour. Lock the door, Carey, +and hang the key up in plain sight by the +window there. We live in the country now, +and that’s the way we do. Good-bye—good-bye!”</p> +<p>Then he drove rapidly away down the +road.</p> +<p>“And that pair,” said the son of the +Bishop gravely, looking after them and +speaking to the company in general, “married, +so to speak, in a hay-wagon, and going +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +for a wedding trip in a wheel-barrow +through the Berkshires, is Juliet Marcy and +Anthony Robeson.”</p> +<p>“No, my son,” said the Bishop slowly—and +everybody always listened when the +Bishop spoke: “It is Anthony and Juliet +Robeson—and that makes all the difference. +I think two happier young people I never +married. And may God be with them.”</p> +<p>The best man said that he and the maid-of-honour +would walk the half-mile to the +station. The son of the Bishop and the +sister of the best man had already taken +this course without saying anything about +it. Nearly everybody murmured something +about it being a lovely evening and +a glorious sunset and a charming road, and, +pairing off advisedly, adopted the same +plan. The Bishop and Mrs. Bishop, Mrs. +Dingley and Mr. Marcy decided on being +driven over to the station in a light surrey +provided for this anticipated emergency.</p> +<p>The best man and the maid-of-honour +succeeded in dropping behind the rest of +the pedestrians. Their friends were used +to that, and let them mercifully alone.</p> +<p>“Mighty pretty affair,” observed Carey +in a melancholy tone. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></p> +<p>“Yes—in its way,” admitted Judith +Dearborn with apparent reluctance.</p> +<p>“Cosy house.”</p> +<p>“Very.”</p> +<p>“Tony seemed happy.”</p> +<p>“Ecstatic.” Judith’s inflection was peculiar.</p> +<p>“Nobody would have suspected Juliet of +feeling blue about living off here.”</p> +<p>“She doesn’t seem to.”</p> +<p>“What’s made the difference?”</p> +<p>“Anthony Robeson, probably.”</p> +<p>“Must seem pretty good to him to have +her care like that.”</p> +<p>“I presume so.”</p> +<p>“It isn’t everybody that could inspire +such an—affection—in such a girl.”</p> +<p>“No, indeed.”</p> +<p>Carey looked intensely gloomy. The +two walked on in silence, Miss Dearborn +studying the sunset, Carey studying Miss +Dearborn. Suddenly he spoke again.</p> +<p>“Judith, do all our plans for the future +seem as desirable to you as they did this +morning?”</p> +<p>“Which ones?”</p> +<p>“Apartment in the locality we’ve picked +out—life in the style the locality calls for—and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +<i>wait</i> for it all until I’m <i>gray</i>——” with +a burst of tremendous energy. “Good +heavens, darling, what’s the use? Why—if +I could have you and a little home like +that——”</p> +<p>He bit his lip hard. The maid-of-honour +walked on, her head turned still farther +away than before. They were nearing the +station. Just ahead lay a turn in the road—the +last turn. The rest of the party, +with a shout back at this dilatory pair, disappeared +around it. From the distance +came the long, shrill whistle of the approaching +train.</p> +<p>The maid-of-honour glanced behind: +there was not a soul in sight; ahead: and +saw nothing to alarm a girl with an impulse +in her heart. At a point where great +masses of reddening sumac hid a little dip +in the road from everything earthly she +stopped suddenly, and turning, put out +both hands. She looked up into a face +which warmed on the instant into a half-incredulous +joy and said very gently: +“You may.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>The sun had been gone only two hours, +and the soft early autumn darkness had but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +lately settled down upon the silent little +house, waiting alone for its owners to come +back some October day, when a cart, driven +slowly, rolled along the road. In front of +the house it stopped.</p> +<p>“Where are we?” asked Juliet’s voice. +“This is a private house. I thought we—Why, +Tony—do you see?—We’ve come +around in a circle instead of going on to that +little inn you spoke of. This is—<i>home</i>!”</p> +<p>“Is it?” said Anthony’s voice in a tone +of great surprise. “So it is!” He leaped +out and came around to Juliet’s side. +“What a fluke!” But the happy laugh in +his voice betrayed him.</p> +<p>“Anthony Robeson,” cried Juliet softly, +“you need not pretend to be surprised. +You meant to do it.”</p> +<p>“Did I?” He reached out both arms to +take her down. “Perhaps I did. Do you +mind—Mrs. Robeson? Shall we go on?”</p> +<p>Juliet looked down at him. “No, I +don’t think I mind,” she said.</p> +<p>He swung her down, and they went +slowly up the walk. “Somehow,” said +Anthony Robeson, looking up at the house, +lying as if asleep in the September night, +“when I thought of taking you to that little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +public inn, and then remembered that we +might have this instead—We can go on +with our wedding journey to-morrow, dear-but—to-night——”</p> +<p>He led her silently upon the porch. He +found the key, where in jest he had bade +his best man put it, and unlocked the door +and threw it open.</p> +<p>He stepped first upon the threshold, and, +turning, held out his arms.</p> +<p>“Come,” he said, smiling in the darkness. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></p> +<p>XI.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Bachelor at Dinner</span></p> +<p>“Hallo there—Anthony Robeson—don’t +be in such a hurry you can’t notice a fellow.”</p> +<p>The big figure rushing through the snow +paused, wheeled, and thrust out a hand of +hearty greeting. “That you, Carey? Hat +over your eyes like a train robber—electric +lights all behind you—and you expect me +to smile at you as I go by! How are you? +How’s Judith?”</p> +<p>“Infernally lonely—I mean I am—Judith’s +off on a visit to her mother. Say, +Tony—take me home with you—will you? +I want some decent things to eat, so I’m +holding you up on purpose.”</p> +<p>“Good—come on. Train goes in a few +minutes. Juliet will be delighted.”</p> +<p>The two hurried on together into the +station from which the suburban trains +were constantly leaving. As they entered +they encountered a mutual friend, at +whom both flung themselves enthusiastically +with alternate greetings: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p> +<p>“Roger Barnes——”</p> +<p>“Roger—old fellow—glad to see you +back!”</p> +<p>“Patient safely landed?”</p> +<p>“Get a big fee?”</p> +<p>“Where you going?”</p> +<p>“Let’s take him home with us, Tony——” +The third man looked smiling at Tony. +“I’ll challenge you to,” said he.</p> +<p>“That’s easy—come on,” responded +Anthony Robeson with cordiality. “I’ll +just telephone Mrs. Robeson.”</p> +<p>“That’s it,” said Dr. Roger Barnes. +“You don’t dare not to. I understand. +Go ahead. But if she’s too much dashed +let me know, will you?”</p> +<p>Anthony turned, laughing, into a telephone +closet, from which he emerged in time +to catch his train with his guests.</p> +<p>“It’s all right,” he assured them. “But +it’s only fair to let her know a few minutes +ahead. You like to understand, Roger, +before you start, don’t you, whether your +emergency case is a hip-fracture or a cut +lip, so you can tell whether to take your +glue or your sewing-silk?”</p> +<p>“By all means,” said the bachelor of the +party. “And I suppose you think Mrs. Juliet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +Marcy Robeson is now smiling happily to +herself over this little surprise. I’ll lay you +anything you please that if I can make her +own up she’ll admit that she said ‘<i>Merciful +heavens!</i>’ into the telephone when she got +your message.”</p> +<p>Anthony shook his head. “Evidently +you don’t know what guests in the remote +suburbs on a stormy February night mean +to a poor girl whose nearest neighbour is +five hundred feet away. Your ideas of +married life need a little freshening, too. +They’re pretty antique.”</p> +<p>It was a half-mile from the station to the +house—the “box of a house”—which had +been Anthony’s home for five months, and +toward which he now led his friends with +the air of a man about to show his most +treasured possessions. He strode through +the deepening snow as if he enjoyed the +strenuous tramp, setting a pace which +Wayne Carey, with his office life, if not the +doctor, more vigorously built and bred, +found difficult to maintain.</p> +<p>“Here we are,” called the leader, pointing +toward windows glowing with a ruddy light. +The doctor looked up with interest. Carey +was a frequent visitor, but the busy surgeon, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +old school-and-college chum of +Anthony’s though he was, was about to +have his first introduction to a place of +which he had heard much, but of whose +nearness to Paradise he doubted with the +strong skepticism of a man who has seen +many a fair beginning end in all unhappiness +and desolation.</p> +<p>As they stamped upon the little porch +the door flew open, the brilliancy and +comfort of a fire-and-lamplit room leaped +out at them, a delicious faint odour of +cookery assailed their hungry nostrils, and +the welcome which makes all worth having +met them on the threshold.</p> +<p>“Wayne,” said the rich young voice of +the mistress of the house, “I’m so glad. +Roger Barnes, this is just downright good +of you; it’s so long you’ve promised us this. +Tony——”</p> +<p>What she said to Tony must have been +whispered in his ear if voiced at all, for the +two guests, looking on with laughing, +envious eyes, saw their hostess swept +unceremoniously into a bearlike embrace, +swung into the air as one thrusts up a +child, poised there an instant, laughing +and protesting, then slowly lowered to be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +kissed, and set down once more lightly +upon the floor.</p> +<p>“It’s all right. I didn’t tumble your +hair a bit,” said Anthony coolly. “Excuse +me, gentlemen, but Wayne understands—and +Roger will some day, I hope—that a +man who has been thinking about it all the +way home can’t put it off on account of a +couple of idiots who stand and stare instead +of politely turning their backs. Oh, don’t +mention it—it doesn’t disturb me at all; +and Mrs. Robeson is becoming reconciled to +my impetuosity by degrees. Make yourselves +at home, boys. Juliet——”</p> +<p>“Take them upstairs, Tony, please. Of +course we can’t let them go back to-night, +now we have them. It’s beginning to +storm heavily, isn’t it? I thought so. +Take them to the guest-room, Tony—and +dinner will be served as soon as you are +down.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“By Jupiter, I believe she means it,” declared +the doctor, with approval, as the +door of the bedroom closed on his host. +“I think I can tell when a woman is shamming. +She’s improved, hasn’t she, tremendously? +Pretty girl always, but—well—bloomed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +now. Nice little house. Believe +I’ll have to stay, though I ought not—just +to take observations on Tony. His +enthusiasm has all the appearance of +reality. In fact, it strikes me he has +rather——”</p> +<p>It was on his lips to say “rather more than +you have,” but it occurred to him in time +that jokes on this ground are dangerous. +Wayne Carey had been married in November, +was living in a somewhat unpretentious +way in a downtown boarding-house, and +certainly had to-night so much of a lost-dog +air that it made the doctor pause. So he +substituted: “—rather more than I should +have expected, even of a fellow who has got +the girl he has wanted all his life,” and fell +to washing and brushing vigorously, eyeing +meanwhile the little room with a critical +bachelor’s appreciation of beauty and comfort +in the quarters he is to occupy. It was +very simply furnished, certainly, but it +struck him as a place where his dreams +were likely to be pleasant for every reason +in the world.</p> +<p>Downstairs, Juliet, in the dining-room, +was surveying her table with the hostess’s +satisfaction. Opposite her stood a tall +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +and slender girl, black-haired, black-eyed, +with a face of great attractiveness.</p> +<p>“I wish, Mrs. Robeson,” she was saying +eagerly, “you would let me serve you +as your maid, and not make a guest +of me. Really, I should love to do it. +I don’t need to meet your friends, and I +don’t mind seeming what I really am—your——”</p> +<p>“Rachel Redding,” Juliet interrupted, +lifting an affectionate glance across the +table, “if you want to seem what you really +are—my friend—you will let me do as I +like.”</p> +<p>“My shabby clothes——” murmured the +girl.</p> +<p>“If I could look as much like a princess as +you do in them——”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Robeson, in that lovely dull red +you’re a queen——”</p> +<p>“—dowager,” finished Juliet gayly. +“Well, I’ll be proud of you, and you can be +proud of me, if you like, and together we’ll +make those hungry men think there’s +nothing like us. The dinner’s the thing. +Isn’t it the luckiest chance in the world I +sent for those oysters this morning? Doctor +Barnes is perfectly fine, but he never would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +believe in the happiness of married life if +the coffee were poor or the beefsteak too +much broiled. Doesn’t the table look +pretty? Those red geranium blossoms you +brought me give it just the gay touch it +needed this winter night.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Three men, standing about the wide fireplace, +warming cold hands at its friendly +blaze, turned expectantly as their youthful +hostess came in, followed by a graceful girl +in gray. Juliet presented her guests with +the air of conferring upon them a favour, +and they seemed quite ready to accept it as +such.</p> +<p>Anthony looked on with interest to see +a person whom he had known hitherto only +as a pretty but poor young neighbour +whom Juliet had engaged to help her for a +certain part of every day, introduced as his +wife’s friend, and greeted by Doctor Barnes +and Wayne Carey with quite evident admiration +and pleasure. He looked hard at +her, as Carey seated her, noticing for the +first time that she was really worth consideration, +and remembering vaguely that +Juliet had more than once tried to impress +him with the fact. If it had not been for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +the other fellows, with whose eyes as their +host he was now stimulated to observe her, +he might have been still some time longer +in coming to the realisation that Juliet had +found somebody in whom her genuine +interest was not misplaced. But Anthony +Robeson had all his life been singularly +blind to the fascinations of most other +women than Juliet. As he turned his keen +gaze from Rachel Redding to the charming +figure that sat on the other side of the +table the satisfaction in his eyes became +so pronounced that it could mean, Dr. +Roger Barnes admitted to himself, as he +caught it, nothing less than a very real +happiness.</p> +<p>It was not an elaborate dinner. It was +not by any means the sort of dinner Juliet +might have prepared had she known that +morning whom she was to entertain. It +was merely a dinner planned with affectionate +care to please and satisfy one +hungry man who liked good things to eat—and +amplified as much as possible in +quantity after Anthony’s message reached +her. And by that admirable collusion +between hostess and feminine friend which +can sometimes be effected when the situation +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +demands it, the dinner prepared for three +seemed ample for five.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-109.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 512px; height: 329px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 512px;'> +“Three men, standing about the wide fireplace ... turned expectantly as their youthful hostess came in, followed by a graceful girl in gray.”<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>Between them Juliet and Rachel Redding +served the various dishes and changed the +plates which Anthony handed from his +place. It was gracefully done and so +simply that the absence of a maid was a +thing to be enjoyed rather than regretted. +When Juliet, in the softly sweeping dull-red +frock which made of her a warm picture for +a winter’s night, slipped from her chair and +moved about the room, or brought in from +the kitchen a steaming dish, she seemed the +ideal hostess, herself bestowing what her own +hands had prepared. And when Rachel +Redding offered a man a cup of fragrant +coffee, smiling down in the general direction +of his uplifted face without meeting his +eyes, there was certainly nothing lost from +his enjoyment of the beverage.</p> +<p>“Say, but this dinner has tasted just +about right,” was Wayne Carey’s satisfied +observation as he leaned back in his chair +at last, after draining his third cup of +coffee—and the pot itself, if he had but +known it.</p> +<p>“Went to the spot?” asked Anthony, +leaning back also with the expression of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +the friendly host. He was young to cultivate +that expression, but he appeared +to find no difficulty about it.</p> +<p>“It did—every last mouthful.”</p> +<p>“Good. Now, if you fellows will come +back to the fire and have a pipeful of talk +we shall not be missed. In this house on +ordinary occasions we reverse the order of +after-dinner privileges—the men retire to +the atmosphere of the sofa-pillows, and the +women—I’m not allowed to tell what they +do. But after remaining discreetly out of +sight for some little time, during which faint +sounds as of the rattle of china penetrate +through closed doors, they reappear, pleasantly +flushed and full of a sort of relieved +joy.”</p> +<p>“I know what I wish,” said Roger Barnes, +looking back from the dining-room doorway +at young Mrs. Robeson; “I wish that when +the dishes are all ready you would let me +know. I should like nothing better than +to have a dish-towel at them. I know all +about it—my mother taught me how.”</p> +<p>He looked so precisely as if he meant it, +and the glance he sent past Juliet at Rachel +Redding was so suggestive of his dislike +to be separated for the coming hour from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +the feminine portion of the household, that +his hostess answered promptly: “Of course +you may. We never refuse an offer like +that. We will try you—on promise of good +behaviour.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_THE_BACHELOR_BEGS_A_DISHTOWEL' id='XII_THE_BACHELOR_BEGS_A_DISHTOWEL'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +<h2>XII.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Bachelor Begs a Dish-Towel</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>When the door closed on the three Juliet +produced from somewhere two aprons—attractive +affairs on the pinafore order—one +of which she slipped upon Rachel, the +other donned herself.</p> +<p>“These are my kitchen party-aprons,” +she said gayly, noting how the pretty garment +became the girl, “calculated to impress +the masculine mind with the charm +of domesticity in women. The doctor needs +a little illustrated lesson of the sort. Life +in boarding-houses isn’t adapted to encourage +a man in the belief that real comfort is +to be found anywhere outside of a bachelor’s +club.”</p> +<p>Before he was called the doctor forsook a +half-smoked cigar and the seductive hollows +of Anthony’s easiest chair and marched +briskly out to the kitchen.</p> +<p>“You see I distrust you,” he announced, +putting in his head at the door. “I’m +afraid you will get them all done without +me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></p> +<p>“Not a bit of it. Here you are,” and +Juliet tied a big white apron about a large-sized +waist. “Here’s your towel. No, +don’t touch the glass; a man is too unconscious +of his strength.”</p> +<p>“A surgeon?” demurred Rachel softly, +from over her steaming dishpan.</p> +<p>“Thank you, Miss Redding,” said the +doctor, smiling.</p> +<p>“Ah, how stupid of me,” Juliet made +amends swiftly. “Miss Redding remembers +that when I got my telephone message +to-night I told her that the most distinguished +young specialist in the city was +coming here to dinner. A hand trained +to such delicate tasks as those of surgery—here, +Dr. Roger Barnes, forgive me, and +wipe my most precious goblets.”</p> +<p>“You’ll have my nerves unsteady with +such speeches as that,” said he, but he +accepted the trust. He held the goblets and +the other daintily cut and engraved pieces +of glass with evident pleasure in the task.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Juliet and Rachel made rapid +work of the greater part of the dishes, +handling thin china with the dexterity of +housewives who love their work—and their +china. Talk and laughter flowed brightly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +through it all, and when the doctor had +finished his glass he looked disappointed at +seeing not much left to do. At the moment +Rachel was scrubbing and scraping a big +baking-dish, portions of whose surface +strongly resisted her efforts, in spite of previous +soaking. The assistant, looking about +him for new worlds to conquer, fell upon this +dish.</p> +<p>“Here, here,” said he, “let me have it. +I’ll use on it some of the unconscious +strength Mrs. Robeson credits me with.”</p> +<p>But Rachel clung to the dish. “Proper +housekeepers,” she averred, “always say +‘That’s all, thank you,’ as soon as the china +is done, and finish the pots and kettles +after the guest has gone back to pleasanter +things.”</p> +<p>“I see. Did you ever have a man for +dish-wiper before?”</p> +<p>“Never a surgeon,” admitted Miss Redding.</p> +<p>“Then you don’t appreciate the fact +that a man likes to do big things which +make the most show and get the credit for +them.”</p> +<p>He took the dish away from her by a +dexterous little twist in which conscious +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +strength certainly asserted itself. Rachel, +laughing, with a dash of colour in cheeks +which were normally of dark ivory tints, +accepted the dish-towel he handed her.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“Hallo, there,” cried Wayne Carey’s voice +from the door. “You’re having more fun +out here than we are in there, and that’s +not fair. The lord of the manor is getting +so chesty over the delights of a country +home in a February snowbank that he’s +becoming heavy company.”</p> +<p>“No room for you here,” returned the +doctor, removing with a flourish the last +candied sugar lump from the bottom of the +big dish, and beginning to swash about +vigorously in the hot water. “We do something +besides talk out here; we work. Our +kitchen is so small we have to waste no +time in steps; as we dry the things we chuck +them straight into their places.”</p> +<p>Suiting the action to the word he caught +up a shining cake-tin and cast it straight at +Carey. That gentleman dodged, but Anthony +caught it, performed upon it an +imitation of the cymbals, then turned about +and laid it in a nest of similar tins upon a +shelf in an open closet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span></p> +<p>“Ah, but I’m well trained,” he boasted.</p> +<p>“If you were you wouldn’t put it away +wet,” observed Rachel slyly.</p> +<p>Anthony withdrew the tin, wiped it with +much solicitude, and replaced it.</p> +<p>“These little technicalities are beyond +me,” he apologised. “Your real athlete in +kitchen work is your scientific man. See +him dry that bean-pot with the glass-towel. +Now, I know better than that.”</p> +<p>“Go away, all of you,” commanded the +mistress of the place. “Go back to the +fire and we’ll join you. If you are very +good we’ll bring you a special treat by-and-by.”</p> +<p>“That settles it,” said the doctor, and +led the retreat, but not without a backward +glance at the little kitchen.</p> +<p>Juliet had gone into the dining-room +with a trayful of glass and silver. Rachel +Redding was plunging half a dozen white +towels into a pan of steaming water. Barnes +stood an instant, staring hard at the slender +figure in the white pinafore, the round young +arms gleaming in the lamplight—then he +turned to follow the others. There are +some pictures which linger long in a man’s +memory; why, he can hardly tell. With +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +all his varied experiences Dr. Roger Barnes +had never before discovered how attractive +a background a well-kept kitchen makes +for a beautiful woman, so that she be there +mistress of the situation. Long after he +had gone back to the fire his absent eyes, +while the others talked, were studying the—to +him—unaccustomed and singularly +charming scene he had just left in the +kitchen.</p> +<p>When Juliet and Rachel came in at length +they found a plan afoot for their entertainment. +Wayne Carey was standing at the +window showing cause why the whole party +should go out and coast upon the hill near +by.</p> +<p>“You admit,” he argued with Anthony, +“that you know where we can get a pair +of bobs—and if you can’t I’ll bribe some of +those youngsters out there to let us have +theirs. The storm has stopped; the boys +have swept off the whole hill, I should judge, +by the way their track shines again under +the moonlight. I haven’t had a good coast +since I left college.”</p> +<p>He turned to Juliet. “Will you go?” he +asked coaxingly.</p> +<p>“Of course we will,” promised Juliet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +“Tony wants to go—he’s just enjoying making +you tease. As for the doctor——”</p> +<p>“If my right hand has not forgot her cunning,” +he agreed.</p> +<p>In ten minutes the party was off. A +young matron of five months’ standing is +not so materially changed from the girl she +used to be that she can fail to be the gayest +of company, perhaps with the more zest +that the old good times seem a bit far away +already and she is glad to bring them back.</p> +<p>As for the real girl of the party, in this +case it chanced to be a country lass who had +been away to school and half-way through +college, had been brought home by love +and duty to some elderly people who needed +her, and had known many hours of stifled +longing for the sort of companionship with +which she had grown happily familiar.</p> +<p>Matron and maid—they were a pair for +whose sakes the men who were with them +gladly made slaves of themselves to give +them an evening of glorious outdoor fun—and +at small sacrifice.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“What a night!” exulted the doctor, +striding up the long hill beside Rachel +Redding breathing deep. “I’m thanking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +all my lucky stars that they led my path +across Anthony Robeson’s to-night. I’ve +been intending to come out here ever since +he was married—and might not have done +it for another six months if I hadn’t got +started. He’ll have all he wants of me now. +It’s the most delightful spot I’ve been in for +many moons.”</p> +<p>“It is a dear little home,” agreed Rachel +warmly. “Mrs. Robeson would make the +most commonplace house in the world one +where everybody would want to come.”</p> +<p>“That’s evident. Yet, somehow, knowing +her well as a girl, I never should have +suspected just those home-making qualities. +You didn’t know her then, I suppose? +She was a girl other girls liked heartily, and +men enthusiastically—one of the ‘I’ll be a +good friend, but don’t come too near’ sort, +you know. But she was very fond of +travel and change, ready for everything in +the way of sport—and, well, I certainly +never saw her before in anything resembling +an apron of any description. What a delightful +article of attire an apron is, anyhow. +I think I never appreciated it before +to-night.”</p> +<p>“That’s because you never saw one of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +Mrs. Robeson’s aprons. Hers are not like +other people’s.”</p> +<p>“She makes hers poetic, does she?”</p> +<p>“She certainly does—even the ones for +baking and sweeping. Not ruffled or beribboned, +but cut with an eye to attractiveness, +and always of becoming colour.”</p> +<p>“I see. She’s an artist—that was noticeable +in the oysters—if she made the dish.”</p> +<p>“Of course she did.”</p> +<p>“The coffee was the best I ever drank.”</p> +<p>“Was it?”</p> +<p>“You made that, then,” remarked the +doctor astutely.</p> +<p>“I’m glad it was good,” said Rachel +demurely.</p> +<p>They had reached the top of the hill. +Doctor Barnes insisted that Anthony had +been the best steerer of coasting parties +known to the juvenile world, and placed +him at the helm. Next came Juliet, with +both arms clasped as far about her husband’s +stalwart frame as they would go. +Carey had wanted to be the end man, but +Doctor Barnes would have none of it. +“You have to take care of Mrs. Robeson,” +he said firmly, and placed him next. This +brought Miss Redding last, and Dr. Roger +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +Barnes, knowing man, as hanger-on behind +upon bobs already fairly full. The last +man, as every coaster understands, has to +be alert to help out any possible bad steering, +and so keeps a watchful head thrust +half over the shoulder in front.</p> +<p>The foregoing explanation will show how +it came about that all down the long, swift +descent, Rachel, breathless with the unaccustomed +delight of the flight, felt upon +her cheek a warm breath, and was conscious +of a most extraordinary nearness +of the lips which kept saying merry things +into her ear. The ear itself grew warm +before the bottom of the track was reached.</p> +<p>“That was a great coast,” cried the doctor +as they reached the end of the long slide. +“Now for another. I’m a boy again. This +beats the best thing I could have had in +town if I hadn’t run across Anthony.”</p> +<p>So they had another—and another—and +one more. Then Rachel Redding, stopping +in front of a small house which lay at the +foot of the hill, said good-night to them +and slipped away before Barnes had realised +what had happened.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“Does she live there?” he questioned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +Juliet, as the four who were left moved on +toward home. Anthony and Wayne were +discussing a subject on which they had +differed at the top of the hill. “Somehow, +I got the impression she lived with you.”</p> +<p>“No—but she comes over a good deal. +I couldn’t get on without her.”</p> +<p>“As a friend?”</p> +<p>Juliet looked up at him. “I think it +would be better that you should know, +Roger,” she said, “and I’m sure Miss Redding +herself would prefer it—that I pay +her for several hours a day of regular work. +You’ve only to see her to understand that +she does this simply because it’s the only +thing open to her as long as her father and +mother can’t spare her to go away. She +gave up her college course in the middle +because she said they were pining to death +for her. They are in very greatly reduced +circumstances, after a lifetime of prosperity. +She’s a rare creature—I’m learning to +appreciate her more every day. She’s never +said a word about her loneliness here, but +it shows in her eyes. It’s a perfect delight +to me to have her with me, and I mean to +give her all the fun I can. For all that +demure manner and her Madonna face she’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +as full of mischief as a kitten when something +starts her off.”</p> +<p>“Juliet,” said the doctor soberly, turning +to look searchingly down at her in the +moonlight, “would you be willing to let +me come often?”</p> +<p>Juliet looked up quickly. “So that you +may see her?” she asked straightforwardly.</p> +<p>“Yes. I won’t pretend it’s anything +else. I can tell you honestly that if there +were no other reason I should want to come +because of my old friendship for you and +Anthony, and because this evening in your +little home has given me a rare pleasure. +I know of no place like it. But I’ll tell you +squarely that I want the chance to meet +your friend often and at once. If I don’t +you will have other people coming out from +town——”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Juliet, and something in the +way she said it made him ask quickly: “Has +that already happened? Am I too late?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know whether you’re too late, +but I know that we’ve suddenly grown +most attractive to another man from town. +If you had gone into Rachel’s home the +odour of violets would have met you at the +door. He sends them every few days.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span></p> +<p>“<i>Ah!</i>” said the doctor. It was not much +of a comment, but it spoke volumes. He +had been keen before—he was determined +now. Violets—well, there were rarer flowers +than those.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_SMOKE_AND_TALK' id='XIII_SMOKE_AND_TALK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +<h2>XIII.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Smoke and Talk</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>At the house there remained for the +guests an hour before the fire, where Juliet +brought in something hot and sweet and +sour and spicy, which tasted delicious and +brought her a shower of compliments while +they drank a friendly draught to her. When +she had left them, standing in an admiring +group on the hearth-rug and wishing her +happy dreams, they settled into luxurious +positions of ease before the fire—a fire in +the last stages of red comfort before it dies +into a smoulder of torrid ashes.</p> +<p>“Anthony Robeson,” said Wayne Carey, +regarding the andirons fixedly over his bed-time +pipe, “you’re a happy man.”</p> +<p>Anthony laughed contentedly. He had +thrown himself down upon the hearth-rug +with his head on a pillow pulled from the +settle, and lay flat on his back with his +hands clasped behind his neck. It was an +attitude deeply expressive of masculine +comfort. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></p> +<p>“You’re exactly right,” said he. “And +you would be the same if you would give +up living in that infernal boarding-house. +What do you want to fool with your first +year of married life like that for? You +told me that Judith was bowled over by +our wedding, and was ready to go in for this +sort of thing with a will.”</p> +<p>“I know it,” admitted Carey, “but”—he +spoke hesitatingly—“we couldn’t seem +to find this sort of thing. You had corralled +all there was.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense.”</p> +<p>“You had. Everything we looked at +was so old and mouldy, or so new and inartistic, +or so high-priced, or so far away—well, +we couldn’t seem to get at it, so we +said we’d board a while and wait until we +could look around.”</p> +<p>“How does it work?”</p> +<p>“Why, I suppose it works very well,” +said Carey cautiously. “Judith seems contented. +We have as good meals as the +average in such houses, and the people are +rather a nice lot. We’re invited around +quite a good deal, and Judith likes that. +I ought to like it better than I do, somehow. +I’m so confoundedly tired when I get home +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +nights I can’t help thinking of you and +Juliet here in this jolly room. There’s an +abominable blue and yellow wall-paper on +our sitting-room—and it has a way of appearing +to turn seasick in the evening under +the electrics. Sometimes I think it’s that +that makes me feel——”</p> +<p>“Seasick, too?” inquired the doctor with +his professional air. He was standing with +his arm on the chimney-piece, looking alternately +down on his friends and around +the long, low room. It <i>was</i> a jolly room—the +very essence of comfort and cosiness. +It was a beautiful room, too, in a simple +way; one which satisfied his sense of harmony +in colours and fabrics—a keen sense +with him, as it is apt to be with men of his +profession.</p> +<p>“Judith likes this, too, you know,” Carey +went on loyally. “She thinks it’s great. +But how to get it for ourselves—that’s +another matter. Somehow, you were +lucky.”</p> +<p>“Did you ever happen to see,” asked +Anthony, “a photograph I took, just for +fun, of this house as it was when Juliet saw +it first? No? Well, just look in that box +on the end of the farther bookcase, will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +you? It’s near the top—there—that’s it.”</p> +<p>He lay looking up through half-closed +lashes at the two men as they studied the +photograph, the doctor leaning over Carey’s +shoulder.</p> +<p>“On your word, man, did it look like +that?” cried Barnes.</p> +<p>“Just like that.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ve heard it did,” admitted Carey; +“but I never quite believed it could have +been as bad as that.”</p> +<p>“Who planned it all?” the doctor asked, +getting possession of the photograph as +Carey laid it down, and giving it careful +scrutiny.</p> +<p>“My little home-maker.”</p> +<p>“Jove—are there any more like her?”</p> +<p>“They’re pretty rare, I understand. +Juliet has one in training—one with a good +deal of native capacity, I should judge.”</p> +<p>“Let me know when her graduation day +approaches,” remarked the doctor.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>When he fell asleep that night in the +dainty guest-room Barnes was wondering +whether Mrs. Robeson got her own breakfasts, +and hoping that she certainly did not, +at least when guests were in the house. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +was down half an hour earlier than necessary, +and to his great satisfaction found a +slender figure brushing up ashes and setting +the fireplace in order for the morning fire. +As he begged leave to help he noted the +satin smoothness of Miss Redding’s heavy +black hair and the trim perfection of her +attire. She reminded him of his hospital +nurses in their immaculate blue and white. +When he saw the mistress of the house and +found her similarly dressed a certain skepticism +grew in his mind.</p> +<p>When he went out to breakfast he murmured +in Anthony’s ear: “Just tell me, old +fellow—to satisfy the curiosity of a bachelor—do +these girls of your household +always look like this in the early morning? +I know it’s mean—but you will +know how to evade me if I’m too impertinent——”</p> +<p>Anthony glanced from Juliet, resembling +a pink carnation in her wash frock—February +though it was—to Rachel Redding in +dark blue and white, and smiled mischievously. +“Mrs. Robeson—and Miss Redding—you +are challenged,” he announced. +“Here’s a fine old chump who has an awful +suspicion that maybe when there are no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +guests you come down in calico wrappers +with day-before-yesterday’s aprons on.”</p> +<p>Juliet gave the doctor a glance which +made him pretend to shrink behind Carey +for protection. “Will you please answer +him, Tony?” she said.</p> +<p>“On my word and honour, Roger Barnes, +then,” said Anthony proudly, “they always +look like this.”</p> +<p>When the doctor left he was weighing +carefully in his mind an urgent problem: +After waiting six months before making +his first visit at the Robesons, how soon +could he decently come again?</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_STRAWBERRIES' id='XIV_STRAWBERRIES'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +<h2>XIV.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Strawberries</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“Here are yer strawberries, ma’m.”</p> +<p>Juliet, alone in her little kitchen, ran to +the door in dismay. She looked down at a +freckle-faced boy carrying a big basket +filled with strawberry-boxes.</p> +<p>“But my order was for next Wednesday,” +she said.</p> +<p>“Well, Pa said he cal’lated you’d ruther +have ’em when they was at the best, an’ +that’s now. This hot weather’s a dryin’ +’em up. May not be any good ones by +Wednesday.”</p> +<p>Every housekeeper knows that if there +is one thing particularly liable to happen it +is the arrival of fruit for preserving at the +most inopportune moment of the week. +It matters little what the excuse of the +sender may be—there is always a sufficient +reason why the original date set by the +buyer has been ignored. In this case the +strawberries had been engaged from a +neighbour, and Juliet understood at once +that she must not refuse to take them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></p> +<p>She stood looking at the rows of baskets +upon the table, when the boy had placed +them there and gone whistling away. She +was in the midst of a flurry of work. It +was Saturday, and she was cooking and +baking, putting together various dishes to +be used upon the morrow. Mr. Horatio +Marcy had lately returned from abroad. +He and Mrs. Dingley were to spend the +coming Sabbath with Juliet and Anthony—the +first occasion on which Juliet’s father +should be entertained in the house. It was +an event of importance, and his daughter +meant to show him several things concerning +her fitness for her present position.</p> +<p>Rachel Redding was not available upon +this Saturday morning. Her mother had +been taken seriously ill the night before, +and Rachel had sent word that she could +not leave her. Juliet had not minded much, +although it was a day when Rachel’s help +would have been especially acceptable. As +it was, she had reached a point where her +housewifely marshalling of the day’s work +was at a critical stage. A cake had been put +into the oven. A large bowl of soup stock +had been brought from a cool retreat to +have the smooth coating of fat removed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +from its surface. Various other dishes, in +process of construction, awaited the skilled +touch of the cook.</p> +<p>“I shall have to do them, I suppose,” +said Mrs. Robeson to herself, regarding the +strawberries with a disapproving eye. “But +<i>why</i> they had to come to-day——”</p> +<p>She went at the strawberries, wishing +she had ordered less. They were fine +berries—on top; by degrees, as the boxes +lowered, they became less fine. It seemed +desirable to separate the superior from the +inferior and treat them differently. Only +the best would do for the delectable preserve +which was to go into glasses and be +served on special occasions; the others +could be made into jam less attractive to +the eye if hardly less acceptable to the +palate. Juliet was obliged to put down +her berry-boxes every fifth minute to attend +to one or other of the various saucepans +and double-boilers upon the little range. +Her cheeks grew flushed, for the day was +hot and the kitchen hotter. It must be +admitted that her occasional glance out +over the green fields and the woods beyond +was a longing one.</p> +<p>The better selection of the berries went +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +into the clear syrup in the preserving-kettle. +Juliet flew to get her glass pots +ready. She stopped to stir something in a +saucepan. She thrust some eggs into the +small ice-chest to cool them for the salad +dressing soon to be made. She kept one +eye on the clock, for the strawberry preserve +had to be timed to a minute—ten, no more, +no less. It was a strenuous hour.</p> +<p>As she dipped up the fourth ladleful of +crimson richness—translucent as a church +window—and filled the waiting jar, a peculiar +pungent odour drifted across the +fragrance of the strawberries. Juliet +dropped her ladle and pulled open the oven +door.</p> +<p>The delicate cake which she had compounded +with especial care because it was +Mrs. Dingley’s favourite, lay a blackened +ruin. Some of it had run over upon the +oven bottom and become a mass of cinders. +Juliet jerked the cake-tin out into the daylight +and shut the oven door with a slam.</p> +<p>It was at this unpropitious moment that +a figure appeared in the doorway—a tall, +slim figure, in crisp, cool, white linen. A +charming white hat surmounted Mrs. Wayne +Carey’s carefully ordered hair, a white +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +parasol in her hands completed a particularly +chaste and appropriate morning toilette +for a young woman who had nothing +to do with kitchens.</p> +<p>She was regarding with interest the young +person at the range. Juliet wore one of +her characteristic working frocks, and the +big pinafore which enveloped it from head +to foot was of an attractive design. But +the morning’s flurry had set its signs upon +her, and the pinafore was not as immaculate +as it had been three hours earlier. Her +hair, curling moistly about her flushed face, +had been impatiently pushed back more +than once, and its disorder, while not unpicturesque, +was suggestive of a somewhat +perturbed mind. Her hands were pink +with strawberry juice. She looked warm, +tired, and—if the truth must be told—at +the moment not a little out of temper. +The smile with which she welcomed her +friend could hardly be said to be one of +absolute pleasure.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I’ve come at the wrong +time,” said Judith, regretfully. “Did you +just burn something? Too bad. I suppose +all young housekeepers do that. +Where’s your—assistant?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></p> +<p>“She’s not here to-day,” said Juliet, +ladling up strawberry preserve with more +haste than caution. Her fingers shook a +little but she kept her voice tranquil. “It’s +all right. A number of things had to be +done at once, that’s all. Please don’t stay +in this hot place. Take off your hat and +find a cool corner somewhere in the house. +I’ll be in presently.”</p> +<p>“I mustn’t bother you. I was going to +stay for lunch with you, it was so hot in +town, but I mustn’t think of it when +you’re so——”</p> +<p>“Of course you’ll stay,” said Juliet with +decision. “What you see before you is only +the smoke of battle. It will soon clear +away. Run off—and I’ll be with you presently. +You’ll find the late magazines in +the living-room.”</p> +<p>Her tone was intended to deceive and +it was sufficiently successful. Judith was +anxious to stay. She was also interested +in the situation. She had heard much +from Wayne in praise of Juliet’s successful +housekeeping, and had seen enough of it +herself to be curious about its inner workings. +For the first time she had happened +upon a scene which would seem to indicate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +that there were phases in this sort of +domestic life less ideal than she was asked +to believe. She went back into the coolness +and quiet of the living-room with a +full appreciation of the fact that no hot +kitchens ever threatened her own peace of +mind.</p> +<p>Juliet finished her strawberry preserve, +saw that everything liable to burn was +removed to safe quarters; then deliberately +took off her apron and stole out of the +kitchen door. She went swiftly down +through the orchard to the willow-bordered +path by the brook; then, out of sight of +everything human, ran several rods down +it with a sweep of skirts which put everything +in the bird creation to flight. At a +certain pleasant spot among the willows, +sheltered from all possible observation, she +paused and flung herself down upon the +warm ground.</p> +<p>But not in any attitude of despair. +Neither did she cry tears of vexation and +weariness. She was a healthy girl, with +the perfect physical being whose poise is +not upset by so small a matter as a fatiguing +morning. Because a cake had burned, an +extra amount of work had had to be conquered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +and an unexpected guest had arrived, +her nerves were not worn to the rending +point. But, having been reared in the +belief that a breath of outdoors is the great +antidote for all physical or mental discomforts +born of confinement indoors, she had +acquired a habit of running away from her +cares at any and all times of day in precisely +this fashion—and many were the +advantages she had reaped from this somewhat +unusual course of procedure.</p> +<p>Mrs. Anthony Robeson lay upon one side, +her arm outstretched, her cheek pillowed +upon her arm. She was drawing long, +deep breaths, and looking lazily off at a +stretch of blue sky cleft in the exact centre +by one great graceful elm tree. One would +have thought she had forgotten every care +in the world, not to mention the guest from +the city waiting expectantly for her hostess +to appear. After ten minutes of this sort +of indolence the figure in the blue and white +print dress sat up, clasped both arms about +her knees and remained regarding with half +closed eyes the softly fluttering leaves of +the willows along the edge of the brook. +The hot flush died out of her cheeks; the +lips whose expression a few minutes since +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +had indicated self-control under a combination +of trying circumstances, relaxed +into their natural sweetness with a tendency +toward mirth; and her whole aspect became +that merely of the young athlete resting +from one encounter and preparing herself +for another.</p> +<p>At length she rose, shook out her skirts, +and said aloud: “Now, Judith Dearborn +Carey, I’m ready to upset your expectations. +Since you looked in at me this +morning you’ve been thinking I wished I +hadn‘t—haven’t you? Well, you may just +understand that I don’t wish anything of +the sort.” And in five minutes more she +had walked in upon her guest by way of the +front door, her pretty face serene, her +hands full of pink June roses which she +threw in a fragrant mass of beauty into her +friend’s lap.</p> +<p>“Put those into bowls for me, will you?” +she requested. “Arrange them to suit +yourself. Aren’t they lovely? I suppose +you’re getting hungry. In half an hour +you shall be served with a very modest but, +I trust, not insufficient lunch. Would you +like hot chocolate or iced tea?”</p> +<p>“Iced tea, by all means,” chose Judith, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +who, being used to the privileges of selection +from a variety of offered foods and +beverages, was apt to want what was not +set before her, when at a private table. +Juliet understood this propensity of her +friend and slyly took advantage of it. As it +happened, she knew that at the moment she +was quite out of chocolate, but she had +counted advisedly upon Judith’s choice on +a hot June day, and she smiled to herself +as she chopped ice and sliced lemon.</p> +<p>At the end of the half hour, Judith, who +found the coolness of the living-room too +delightful to allow her to keep watch of +her friend in the hot kitchen, much as she +was tempted to do so, was summoned to +an equally cool dining-room. Upon the +bare table, daintily set out upon some of +the embroidered white doilies of Juliet’s +wedding linen, was a simple lunch of a character +which appealed to the guest’s critical +appetite in a way which made her draw a +long breath of satisfaction.</p> +<p>“You certainly do have a trick of serving +things to make them taste better than +other people’s,” she acknowledged, glancing +from the little platter of broiled chicken +with its bit of parsley to the crisp fruit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +salad made up of she knew not what, but +presenting an appetising appearance—then +regarding fondly a dish of spinach, pleasingly +flanked by thin slices of boiled egg.</p> +<p>“It’s really too hot to eat anything very +solid,” agreed Juliet with guile. “Rachel +and I have a way of planning our lunches a +day or two ahead, so that the leftovers we +use up are not yesterday’s but the day +before’s, and we remember with surprise +how good the original dish was far back in +the past. I wish Anthony could have his +midday meal at home—though perhaps if +he did the dinners wouldn’t strike him so +happily. Don’t you think it’s great fun +to see a big, hearty man sit down at a table +and look at it with an expression of adoration? +Women may deride the fact as +they will, but a healthy body does demand +good things to eat, and shouldn’t be blamed +for liking them.”</p> +<p>“Wayne hasn’t much appetite,” said +Judith, eating away with relish. “He dislikes +the people at our table—sometimes +I think that’s why he bolts his food and +gets off in such a hurry. By the way, +Juliet, are you and Tony coming in to the +Reardons’ to-night? Of course you are.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></p> +<p>“I suppose we must,” admitted Juliet +with reluctance. “We have refused a good +many things since we’ve been here, but I +did promise Mrs. Reardon we would try +to come to-night.”</p> +<p>The little repast over, Judith offered, +with well simulated warmth, to help her +friend with the after work. But Juliet +would have none of her. She sent her +guest out into a hammock under the trees, +and despatched the business of putting the +little kitchen to rights with the celerity +of one who means to have done with it.</p> +<p>In the middle of the June afternoon +Judith awoke from a nap in the hammock +to find her hostess standing laughing beside +her, fresh in a thin gown of flowered dimity.</p> +<p>“Well,” yawned Judith, heavily, “I must +have gone off to sleep. I was tired—I am +tireder. This is a fatiguing sort of weather—don’t +you think so? But you don’t look +it. And after all that work I found you +in! Why aren’t you used up? It <i>kills</i> me +to do things in the heat.”</p> +<p>Juliet dropped a big blue denim pillow +on the ground and sat down upon it in a +flutter of dimity. She lifted a smiling face +and said with spirit: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span></p> +<p>“Last summer I could walk miles over +a golf course twice a day and not mind it in +the least. The year before I was most of +the time on the river, rowing till I was as +strong as a girl could be. I’ve had gymnasium +work and fencing lessons and have +been brought up to keep myself in perfect +trim by my baths and exercise. What frail +thing am I that a little housework should +use me up?”</p> +<p>“Yes—I know—you always did go in +for that sort of thing,” reflected Judith, +eyeing her companion’s fresh colour and +bright eyes. “I suppose I ought, but I +never cared for it—I don’t mean the baths +and all that—of course any self-respecting +woman adores warm baths. I don’t like +the cold plunges and showers you always +add on.”</p> +<p>“Then don’t expect the results.”</p> +<p>“It isn’t everybody who has your energetic +temperament. I hate golf, despise +tennis, never rowed a stroke in my life, and +could no more keep house as you are doing +than I could fly.”</p> +<p>“Let me see,” said Juliet demurely, pretending +to consider. “What is it that you +do like to do?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span></p> +<p>“You know well enough. And little +enough of it I can get now with a husband +who never cares to stir.” There was a +suspicion of bitterness in Judith’s voice. +But Juliet, ignoring it, went blithely on:</p> +<p>“I’ve a strong conviction that one can’t +be happy without being busy. Now that +I can’t keep up my athletic sports I should +become a pale hypochondriac without these +housewifely affairs to employ me. I don’t +like to embroider. I can’t paint china. +I’m not a musician. I somehow don’t +care to begin to devote myself to clubs in +town. I love my books and the great outdoors—and +plenty of action.”</p> +<p>“You’re a strange girl,” was Judith’s +verdict, getting languidly out of the hammock, +an hour later, after an animated discussion +with her friend on various matters +touching on the lives of both. “Either +you’re a remarkable actress or you’re as +contented as you seem to be. I wish I had +your enthusiasm. Everything bores me—Look +at this frock, after lying in a hammock! +Isn’t white linen the prettiest thing when +you put it on and the most used up when +you take it off, of any fabric known to the +shops?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span></p> +<p>“It is, indeed. But if anybody can +afford to wear it it’s you, who never sit +recklessly about on banks and fences, but +keep cool and correct and stately and——”</p> +<p>“—discontented. I admit I’ve talked +like a fractious child all day. But I’ve +had a good time and want to come oftener +than I have. May I?”</p> +<p>“Of course you may. Must you go? +I’ll keep you to dinner and send for Wayne.”</p> +<p>“You’re an angel, but I’ve an engagement +for five o’clock, and there’s the Reardons’ +this evening. You won’t forget that? You +and Anthony will be sure to come?”</p> +<p>“I’ll not promise absolutely, but I’ll see. +Mrs. Reardon was so kind as to leave it +open. It’s an informal affair, I believe?”</p> +<p>“Informal, but very gorgeous, just the +same. She wouldn’t give anybody but you +such an elastic invitation as that, and you +should appreciate her eagerness to get +you,” declared Judith, who cared very +much from whom her invitations came and +could never understand her friend’s careless +attitude toward the most impressive +of them.</p> +<p>Juliet watched her guest go down the +street, and waved an affectionate hand at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +her as Judith looked back from her seat in +the trolley car. “Poor old Judy,” she +said to herself. “How glad you are you’re +not I!—And how very, very glad I am I’m +not you!”</p> +<p>An observation, it must be admitted, +essentially feminine. No man is ever heard +to felicitate himself upon the fact that he is +not some other man.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_ANTHONY_PLAYS_MAID' id='XV_ANTHONY_PLAYS_MAID'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +<h2>XV.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Anthony Plays Maid</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>After dinner that night, Juliet, having +once more put things in order and slipped +off the big pinafore which had kept her +spotless, joined her husband in the garden +up and down which he was comfortably +pacing, hands in pockets, pipe in mouth.</p> +<p>“Jolly spot, isn’t it? Come and perambulate,” +he suggested.</p> +<p>“Just for a minute. Tony, are we going +to the Reardons?”</p> +<p>He stood still and considered. “I don’t +know. Are we? Did you accept?”</p> +<p>“On condition that you felt like it. I +represented you as coming home decidedly +fagged these hot nights and not always +caring to stir.”</p> +<p>“Wise schemer! I don’t mind the aspersion +on my physical being. She urged, +I suppose?”</p> +<p>“She did. I don’t know why.”</p> +<p>“I do.” Anthony smiled down at his +wife. “Everybody is a bit curious about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +us these days. Your position, you see, is +considered very extraordinary.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense, Tony. Shall we go?”</p> +<p>“Possibly we’d better, though it racks +my soul to think of dressing. The less I +wear my festive garments the less I want +to. For that very reason, suppose we +discipline ourselves and go. Do you mind?”</p> +<p>“Not at all. We’ll have to dress at once, +for it’s nearly eight now, and by the time +we have caught a train and got to Hollyhurst——”</p> +<p>“To be sure. Here goes, then.”</p> +<p>Half an hour later Anthony, wrestling +with a refractory cuff button, looked up +to see his wife at his elbow. She was very +nearly a vision of elegance and beauty; +the lacking essential was explained to him +by a voice very much out of breath and a +trifle petulant:</p> +<p>“If you care anything for me, Tony, stop +everything and hook me up. I’m all +mixed up, and I can’t reach, and I’m sure +I’ve torn that little lace frill at the back.”</p> +<p>“All right. Where do I begin?”</p> +<p>“Under my left arm, I think—I can’t +possibly see.”</p> +<p>“Neither can I.” He was poking about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +under the lifted arm, among folds of filmy +stuff. “Here we are—no, we aren’t. Does +this top hook go in this little pocket on the +other side?”</p> +<p>“I suppose so—can’t you tell whether it +does by the look?”</p> +<p>“It seems a bit blind to me,” murmured +Anthony, struggling.</p> +<p>“It’s meant to be blind—it mustn’t show +when it’s fastened.”</p> +<p>“It certainly doesn’t now. Hold on—don’t +wriggle. I’ve got it now. I’ve found +the combination. Three turns to the right, +five to the left, clear around once, then—Hullo! +I’ve come out wrong. The thing +doesn’t track at the bottom.”</p> +<p>“You’ve missed a hook.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no. I hung onto ’em all the way +down.”</p> +<p>“Then you missed an eye. You’ll have +to unhook it all and begin again.”</p> +<p>Anthony obeyed. “I’m glad I don’t +have to get into my clothes around the +corner this way,” he commented. “Here +you are. We stuck to the schedule this +time.”</p> +<p>“Wait, dear. You haven’t fastened the +shoulder. There are ever so many little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +hooks along there and around the arm +hole.”</p> +<p>“I should say there were. What’s the +good of so many?—Where do they begin? +Look out—wait a minute—Juliet, if you +don’t stop twisting around so I never can +do it. I can do great, heroic acts, it’s +the little trials that floor me—There—no!—that +doesn’t look right.”</p> +<p>Juliet ran to the mirror. “It isn’t +right,” she cried. “Look—that corner +shouldn’t lap over like that. Oh, if I could +only reach myself!”</p> +<p>“You can‘t—I’ve often tried it. The +human anatomy—Stand still, Julie—you’re +getting nervous.”</p> +<p>“If there’s one thing that’s trying——” +murmured Juliet.</p> +<p>“Why do you let your dressmakers build +your frocks this way? Why not get into +’em all in front, where you can see what +you’re doing?—Now I’ve got it. Isn’t that +right?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Wait, Tony—here’s the girdle. +It fastens behind.”</p> +<p>Anthony surveyed the incomprehensible +affair of silk and velvet ribbon she put into +his hands. “Looks like a head-stall to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +me,” he said. Juliet laughed and fitted it +about her own waist. Anthony attempted +to make it join at the back of the points +she held out to him.</p> +<p>“It won’t come together,” he said.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, it will. Draw it tight.”</p> +<p>“I am drawing it tight. It’s smaller +than you are. You can’t wear it.”</p> +<p>Juliet laughed again. Anthony tugged.</p> +<p>“Wait till I hold my breath,” she said.</p> +<p>“<i>Great guns!</i>” he ejaculated, and by +the exertion of much force fastened the +girdle. Then he stood off a step or two +and looked at his wife curiously. Flushed +and laughing she returned his gaze.</p> +<p>“Can you breathe?” he asked solicitously.</p> +<p>“Of course I can.”</p> +<p>“What with?”</p> +<p>“It is a little tight, of course,” she +admitted. “This is one of my trousseau +dresses. I’ve grown a little stouter, I suppose. +Never mind, I can stand it for to-night. +Thank you very much. You must +hurry now, Tony.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t had my pay for playing +maid,” he said, and came close. He surveyed +his wife’s fair neck and shoulders, +turned her around and deliberately kissed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +the soft hollow where the firm white flesh +of her neck met the waving brown hair +drawn lightly upwards.</p> +<p>“That’s the spot that tantalized me for +about six years,” he observed.</p> +<p>Hunting hurriedly through various +drawers and boxes in the blue-and-white +room, in search of gloves and fan, Juliet +heard her husband come in his turn to her +open door.</p> +<p>“Will you have the goodness to look at +me?” he requested, in a melancholy voice. +Juliet turned, gave him one glance, and +broke into a merry peal.</p> +<p>“Oh, Tony!—What’s the matter? Have +you been growing stouter, too?”</p> +<p>“It must be,” he said solemnly.</p> +<p>His clawhammer coat was so tight across +the shoulders that the strain was evident. +He was holding his arms in the exaggerated +position of the small boy who wears a last +year’s suit. Juliet revolved around her +husband’s well built figure with interest.</p> +<p>“It does look tight,” she said. “But +have you grown heavier all at once? It +can’t be long since you wore that coat +before.”</p> +<p>“Don’t believe I have for months. It’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +been altogether frock-coats and informals. +I haven’t been to an evening affair with +ladies for a good while.”</p> +<p>“It doesn’t look as it feels, I’m sure. +It’s getting very late—we ought to be off,” +and Juliet gathered up her belongings and +gave him a long loose coat to hold for her +which covered her finery completely.</p> +<p>“Now’s the hour when I regret that I +haven’t a carriage for you,” said Anthony, +as they descended the stairs. He got into +his outer coat reluctantly. “I shall split +something around my back before the +evening is over,” he prophesied resignedly.</p> +<p>“Never mind. Remember how tight my +girdle is. It grows tighter every minute.”</p> +<p>They got out upon the porch and Anthony +locked the door. “If I should show +that door-key to any man I know except +Carey he would howl,” he remarked, holding +up the queer old brass affair before he +slipped it into his pocket. He looked +down at Juliet in the gathering June twilight. +“Don’t you wish we didn’t have to +go?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I do,” she agreed frankly.</p> +<p>“Let’s not!”</p> +<p>“My dear boy! At this hour?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></p> +<p>“We could telephone.”</p> +<p>“Shouldn’t you feel rather ashamed to, +so late?”</p> +<p>“Not a bit. But of course we’ll go if you +say so.”</p> +<p>She laughed, and he joined her boyishly. +She hesitated.</p> +<p>“If I see you looking faint in that girdle +shall I throw a glass of cold water over +you?”</p> +<p>“Please do. If I hear a sound as of +rending cloth shall I divert the attention of +the company?”</p> +<p>“By all means.”</p> +<p>They were laughing like two children. +Anthony sat down in one of the porch +chairs. He drew a long sigh. “I never +hated to leave my dear home so since I +came into it,” he said gloomily.</p> +<p>Juliet pulled off her coat. “If you’ll +do the telephoning I’ll stay,” she said.</p> +<p>He jumped to his feet. “Let me loosen +that girdle for you. I haven’t been breathing +below the fifth rib myself since you put +it on, just in sympathy,” he declared.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_A_HOUSEPARTY_OUTDOORS' id='XVI_A_HOUSEPARTY_OUTDOORS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +<h2>XVI.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A House-Party—Outdoors</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“The trouble is,” said Anthony Robeson, +shifting his position on the step below +Juliet so that he could rest his head against +her knee, “the trouble is we’re getting too +popular.”</p> +<p>Juliet laughed and ran her fingers through +his thick locks, gently tweaking them. The +two were alone together in the warm darkness +of a July evening, upon their own little +porch.</p> +<p>“It’s the first evening we’ve had to ourselves +since the big snowdrift under the +front windows melted. That was about +the date Roger Barnes met Louis Lockwood +here the first time. Ye gods—but +they’ve kept each other’s footprints warm +since then, haven’t they? And now Cathcart +is giving indications of having contracted +the fatal malady. Can’t Rachel +Redding be incarcerated somewhere until +the next moon is past? I notice they all +have worse symptoms each third quarter. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +That girl looks innocent, but—by heaven, +Julie, I think she has it down fine.”</p> +<p>“No, you don’t,” said Juliet persuasively. +“I should catch her at it if she were deliberately +trying to keep two such men as Roger +and Louis pitted against each other. They’re +doing it all themselves. I’ve known her to +run away when she saw one of them coming—so +that she couldn’t be found. But, +Tony dear, I’ve a plan.”</p> +<p>“Good. I hope it’s a duel between the +two principals. If it is I’m going to tamper +with the weapons and see that each injures +himself past help. I’m getting a little +weary of playing the hospitable host to a +trio of would-bes.”</p> +<p>“Listen. We’ll entertain them all at +once for a week, with some extra girls, and +Judith and Wayne, and then we’ll announce +that we’re not at home for a month.”</p> +<p>“All at once—a house-party?” Anthony +sat up and laughed uproariously. “I’ve +tremendous faith in you, love, but where +in the name of all the French sardines that +ever were dovetailed would you put such +a crowd?”</p> +<p>“I’ve a practical plan. Louis Lockwood +belongs to a fishing club that spends every +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +August up in Canada. They have a big +tent, twenty by twenty-five, for he told me +so the other day. He would get it for us; +we would put it out in the orchard, close +to the river. You and Wayne, and Roger +and Louis, and Stevens Cathcart could +sleep down there, and I could easily take +care of Judith and Suzanne Gerard and +Marie Dresser, here in the house. Rachel +should stay here, too. And Auntie Dingley +would send down Mary McKaim to cook +for us, I’m sure.”</p> +<p>“That’s not so bad. But why Rachel—when +you have so little room?”</p> +<p>“Because I want her to have all the fun; +because if I don’t keep her here she will +be running away half the time; and because——”</p> +<p>“Now comes the real reason,” observed +Anthony sagely.</p> +<p>“I don’t want the other girls thinking +she has the unfair advantage of taking a +man away from the party every evening to +walk down home with her.”</p> +<p>“Wise little chaperon. I can see Roger +and Louis now, glaring at each other as the +hour approaches for her departure.”</p> +<p>“What do you think of my plan? It’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +only a plan, you know, Tony—subject to +your approval.”</p> +<p>“Diplomat!” murmured Anthony, reaching +up one arm and drawing it about her +shoulders. “You know you’re safe to have +my approval when you put it in that tone. +Well, provided you can figure out the +finances—and I know you wouldn’t propose +it if you hadn’t done that already—I don’t +see any objection. On one condition, +though, Julie, mind you—on one condition.”</p> +<p>“Name it.”</p> +<p>“Of course, I can only be here evenings +during your house party. So my condition +is that I have you and the home all to myself +for my vacation afterward. Not a +wooer nor a chum admitted. No overdressed +women out from town, taking afternoon +tea—no invitations to lonesome husbands +out to dinner. Just you and I. Did +you ever imagine life in the rural localities +would be so gay, anyhow? I want to go +fishing with you—tramping through the +woods with you—sitting out here on the +porch with you—in short, have you all +to myself—and”—he turned completely +about, kneeling below her on the step, +crushing her in both arms so vigorously +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +that he stopped her breath—“eat—you—up!”</p> +<p>“What a prospect,” she cried softly, +when she found herself partially released. +“Are you sure you need a vacation, just +for that?”</p> +<p>“Certain of it. I’ve had to share you +with other people all the year—and now +I’ve got to give you up to a jealous lovers’ +assemblage. So after that, mind you, I +have my satisfaction.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>When Doctor Barnes was told of the plan +he looked gloomy. “Going to ask Lockwood?” +he inquired at once.</p> +<p>“Of course,” assented Juliet promptly.</p> +<p>“I don’t see any ‘of course’ about it.”</p> +<p>“What would Marie Dresser do to me if +I didn’t invite him?”</p> +<p>“He doesn’t care for her——”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, he does. Why, last winter he +seemed to be on the point of asking her to +marry him. Everybody expected the announcement +any day.”</p> +<p>“Last winter and this summer are two +different propositions.”</p> +<p>“Marie doesn’t think so.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></p> +<p>“She’ll get mightily undeceived, then. +Whom else are you asking?”</p> +<p>“Stevens Cathcart.”</p> +<p>The doctor groaned. “Is this a dose +you’re fixing for me? I’m going to be too +busy—I can’t come.”</p> +<p>“Very well,” said Juliet placidly. She +was sewing, upon the porch, and the doctor +sat on the step.</p> +<p>He looked up with a grimace. “I suppose +you think I’ll be out on the next train +after the rest arrive.”</p> +<p>“I certainly do, Dr. Roger Williams +Barnes.”</p> +<p>“I presume you are inviting Suzanne?” +he queried.</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“No reason why not. Cathcart admires +her immensely—or did, before he began to +cultivate this place.”</p> +<p>Juliet laughed. “Suzanne would never +forgive you if she heard that.”</p> +<p>“By-the-way,” said the doctor slowly, +“has she ever met—Miss Redding?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>He meditated for several minutes in +silence, while Juliet sewed, glancing from +time to time at one of the most attractive +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +masculine profiles with which she was +familiar. He was not as handsome a man +as Louis Lockwood, but every line of his +face stood for strength, not without some +pretensions to good looks. He looked up +at length and straight at her.</p> +<p>“Would you mind telling me,” he began, +“just what you intend to effect with this +combination? I never gave you credit, +you know, Juliet, for wanting to manage +Fate, and I don’t believe it now.”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t want to manage Fate,” said +Juliet, smiling over her work, “but I admit +I want two things: I want you to see +Rachel Redding beside Suzanne Gerard, +and—I want Rachel to see you beside +Louis Lockwood and—Suzanne.”</p> +<p>“I see,” said the doctor grimly. “In +other words, you want your protégée to +have fair play.”</p> +<p>“Just that,” Juliet answered, more +gravely now. “I think lots of you, Roger, +and well of you—you know I do—and +yet——”</p> +<p>“And yet——”</p> +<p>“Let me guard my girl. She’s not like +the others, and you and Louis are making +it tremendously hard for her between you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></p> +<p>“You seem to be planning to make it +infinitely harder.”</p> +<p>Juliet shook her head. “Trust me, Roger, +please.”</p> +<p>“All right, I will,” promised the doctor. +“But just assure me that you’re on my +side.”</p> +<p>“I’m on nobody’s side,” was all the +comfort he got.</p> +<p>Juliet’s invitations received delighted +acceptances, though Wayne Carey and +Doctor Barnes would be able to come out +only for the nights—in time, however, for +late and festive suppers outdoors. The +tent in the orchard, with its comfortable +bunks, was accepted by all the men with +enthusiasm.</p> +<p>“And to satisfy the men is the essential +thing, you know, Tony,” Juliet had observed +sagely when she saw their pleasure in +their quarters. “The girls will accept any +crowding together if they have a mirror +and room to tie a sash in, as long as devoted +admirers are not wanting.”</p> +<p>The moment Miss Dresser and Miss +Gerard saw Miss Rachel Redding—to quote +Anthony—the fun began. Mrs. Wayne +Carey had already met her, and had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +carefully coached by Juliet as to the bearing +she must assume toward Juliet’s new friend. +So when Marie and Suzanne began to inquire +of Judith the latter was prepared to answer +them.</p> +<p>“She’s a beauty in her way, isn’t she?” +Judith asserted. “Juliet’s immensely fond +of her, I should judge.”</p> +<p>“But who is she?” demanded Suzanne.</p> +<p>“A neighbour, a country girl, a school +and college girl, a comparatively poor girl—and +a lucky girl, for Juliet likes her.”</p> +<p>“Have the men met her before?”</p> +<p>“Goodness, yes. Haven’t you heard how +they beg invitations home to dinner of +Anthony, just to see her?” Judith was +enjoying the situation. This statement, +however, was no part of Juliet’s coaching.</p> +<p>“I didn’t see anything particularly attractive +about her,” said Marie promptly. +“She’s a demure thing. One wouldn’t +think she ever lifted those long lashes to +look at a man—but that’s just the kind. +Awfully plainly dressed.”</p> +<p>“That’s her style,” said Suzanne. “These +poor, pretty girls are once in a while just +clever enough to make capital out of their +poverty by wearing simply fetching things +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +in pale gray dimity and dark blue lawn and +sunbonnets. Stevens Cathcart would be +just the kind to be carried away with her. +Roger Barnes wouldn’t look at her twice.”</p> +<p>“Louis might pretend to admire her, to +please Juliet,” admitted Marie. “He has +a way of making every girl think he is in +love with her—and he is, to a certain extent. +But it’s never serious.”</p> +<p>Whether it were serious in this instance +Miss Dresser soon had opportunity to judge.</p> +<p>After dinner that first night Anthony +proposed taking all his guests out upon the +river in a big flat-boat he had rented. But +when he made up the party Rachel was not +to be found.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid she’s gone home,” said Juliet.</p> +<p>“I’ll run down and see,” proposed Lockwood +instantly, and was suiting the action +to the word when Cathcart got off ahead of +him.</p> +<p>“I’ll have her back presently,” he called +as he dashed down the road. “You people +go on—we’ll catch you.”</p> +<p>“We’ll wait for you,” Lockwood shouted +after him.</p> +<p>“Why should we wait?” demurred Marie, +beginning to walk away toward the river. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></p> +<p>“If we don’t he’s liable not to find it convenient +to catch up with us,” Lockwood +retorted.</p> +<p>“If they prefer their own company why +not let them have it?” she said over her +shoulder.</p> +<p>“Run along, Louis,” murmured Doctor +Barnes. “One girl at a time.”</p> +<p>He turned to Juliet. “Shall we go?” +he said.</p> +<p>Anthony caught his glance, and, laughing, +turned to Suzanne. “Will you console +an old married man, Miss Gerard?” he +inquired.</p> +<p>But when Cathcart reappeared, which +he did very soon, Rachel was not with him. +“She said she had to stay with her mother,” +he explained in a tone which so closely +resembled a growl that everybody laughed.</p> +<p>“Bear up, Stevie, boy,” chaffed Wayne +Carey. “I’m confident she likes you, but +she may not like you all the time, you know. +They seldom do.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_RACHEL_CAUSES_ANXIETY' id='XVII_RACHEL_CAUSES_ANXIETY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +<h2>XVII.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Rachel Causes Anxiety</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>In spite of all Juliet’s efforts to bring +about Rachel’s presence as one of her guests +she found herself unable to accomplish it. +Whenever she was needed for help Rachel +was never absent, but the moment she was +free the girl was off, and that quite without +the appearance of running away. The +men of the party followed her, but they were +not allowed to remain. The girls, confident +that her disappearances were part of a very +deep game, begged her to stay; it was useless. +Rachel’s excuses were ready, her +manner charmingly regretful in a quiet +way, but stay she would not.</p> +<p>Dr. Roger Barnes waylaid her one evening +as she was vanishing down the willow-bordered +path by the brook, leading to her +own home.</p> +<p>“Here you go again,” he began discontentedly. +“I wish I knew why.”</p> +<p>Rachel paused. It was difficult to do +otherwise with a large and determined +figure blocking a very narrow path. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span></p> +<p>“I have ever so many things waiting at +home for me to do.”</p> +<p>“At nine o’clock in the evening?”</p> +<p>“At whatever hour I am through at +Mrs. Robeson’s.”</p> +<p>“I wish I could imagine something of +what they are. It might relieve my mind +a little.”</p> +<p>“Why, I will tell you,” said Rachel with +great appearance of frankness. “I have +to do some mending for mother, read the +evening paper for father, and set the bread. +Then the clothes must be sprinkled for +ironing in the morning.”</p> +<p>The doctor studied her face in the dimming +light. “Who washed the clothes?” he +asked bluntly.</p> +<p>“Do you think you ought to ask?” said +Rachel.</p> +<p>“Yes. I’m in the habit of asking questions.”</p> +<p>“Of patients——”</p> +<p>“Of everybody I care for. You don’t +have to answer, but if you don’t I shall +know who did the washing.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I did it,” said Rachel steadily. “It +is easily done.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p> +<p>“And then you came over here and got +breakfast?”</p> +<p>“Not at all. I helped Mrs. Robeson and +Mary McKaim get it. Doctor Barnes, do +you know that you are standing directly +in my path?”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” said the doctor. “It’s what +I’m here for.”</p> +<p>“Then I shall have to go back and take +the road home.”</p> +<p>“If you do you will evade me only to +encounter another man. Lockwood’s keeping +a ferret’s eye on the Robeson house +door; and I think Cathcart is already patrolling +the road in front of your house.”</p> +<p>The girl turned. “You are making me +feel very absurd,” she said. “I want to go +home, Doctor Barnes. Please let me pass +you.”</p> +<p>“May I go with you?”</p> +<p>“I would rather not.”</p> +<p>“Well, that’s frank,” he said, amusement +and chagrin struggling for the uppermost. +“I wonder I don’t stalk angrily away——”</p> +<p>“I wish you would.”</p> +<p>Roger Barnes threw back his head and +laughed. “I wish you would give some +other girls a leaf out of your book,” he said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +“The more you turn me down the more +ardently I long to be with you; while the +opposite sort of thing—I’ll tell you, Miss +Redding, if you want to be rid of me try +these tactics: Say with a languishing smile, +‘Oh, Doctor Barnes, won’t you take me a +little way down this lovely path?’ Perhaps +that will accomplish your ends. I’ve often +felt an instant desire not to do the thing I’m +begged to.”</p> +<p>“‘Oh, Doctor Barnes,’” said Rachel Redding—and +he caught the mischief in her +tone—even Rachel could be mischievous, as +Juliet had said—“‘won’t you take me a +little way down this lovely path?’”</p> +<p>“With the greatest pleasure in the +world,” replied the doctor promptly, and +stood aside to let her pass him. Whereupon +she slipped by him, and before he +could realise that she had gone was running +fleetly away in the twilight down the winding, +willow-hung path. With an exclamation +he was off after her, but though he +dashed at the pace of a hunter through the +intricacies of the way he presently discovered +that he was following nothing but +the summer breeze rustling the willow +leaves and wafting into his face the breath +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +of new-cut hay, the aftermath of late July. +He stopped at length and stared about him, +baffled and half angry.</p> +<p>“There never was a girl like you,” he +muttered. “If you are deliberately trying +to make men mad to get you you are succeeding +infuriatingly well. If I catch you +to-night it will be your fault if I tell you +what I think of you. I’ll tell you now, for +I suppose you are hiding somewhere in this +undergrowth till I give it up and you +can get away home. You shall listen to +me if you are here, for you can’t help +yourself.”</p> +<p>He was speaking in a low, even tone, +walking slowly along the path and peering +sharply into the bushes on both sides. Suddenly +he stood still. He had detected a +spot beside a low-hanging willow which +showed nearly white in the deepening +darkness. Rachel was wearing white +to-night, he remembered. His heart +quickened its paces and he paused an +instant to get past a certain tightening +in his throat.</p> +<p>Then he bent forward and whispered: +“If that’s not you there I can say what I +like, and there’ll be some satisfaction in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +that. If you’ll speak now you may save +yourself, but if you don’t I’ve no reason to +think it’s you, and so I can say——”</p> +<p>There was a sharply perceptible noise +farther down the path toward the Redding +home. Barnes turned quickly and stood +up straight, waiting. Footsteps came rapidly +along the path—no footsteps of hers, evidently. +A man’s voice humming a tune +grew momentarily plainer—then the voice +stopped humming and began to sing in a +subdued but clear and fine barytone:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“Down through the lane</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Come I again</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Seeking, my love, for you;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Run to me, dear,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Losing all fear,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Love and——”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The voice stopped. Two men’s figures +confronted each other in an extremely narrow +path. It was not too dark yet for each +to be plainly recognisable to the other.</p> +<p>“Hallo—that you, Lockwood?”</p> +<p>“Hi there, Roger Barnes; what you doing +here? Fishing?”</p> +<p>“Looking for something I’ve lost.”</p> +<p>“Getting pretty dark to find it. Something +valuable?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></p> +<p>“Rather. Think I’ll give it up for to-night.”</p> +<p>“Too bad. Nice night.” Lockwood +was hastening toward the end of the path +which came out near Anthony’s house. +Barnes looked after him grimly.</p> +<p>“That voice of yours, young man,” he +thought, “handicaps me from the start. +Now, if I could just warble my emotions +that way——”</p> +<p>He turned and peered again at the white +place by the tree. He moved stealthily +toward it, and ascertained presently that +it was not what it seemed. He rose to his +feet and walked rapidly down the path to +the Redding house. When he came in sight +of it he saw that the kitchen windows were +lighted and that a man stood with his arm +on the sill of one of them. Silhouetted +against the light were the familiar outlines +of Stevens Cathcart. As Barnes stood staring +amazedly at this, a slender figure in +white came to the window, and in the stillness +he could hear the quiet voice:</p> +<p>“Please let me close the window, Mr. +Cathcart. Thank you—no—and good-night.”</p> +<p>“‘Three Men in a Boat,’ by Rachel Redding,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +murmured the doctor to himself, +and slipped back to the willow path, from +which he at length emerged to join the +group upon the porch—which then, it may +be observed, held for the first time that +night its full complement of men.</p> +<p>Three big Chinese lanterns shed a softly +pleasant light upon the porch and the lawn +at its foot. Suzanne Gerard and Marie +Dresser made a most attractive picture, +one in a low chair, the other upon a pile of +cushions on the step. Suzanne lightly +picked a mandolin. Marie was singing +softly:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“Down through the lane</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Come I again</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Seeking, my love, for you;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Run to me, dear,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Losing all fear,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Love and my life will be true.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>It was one of the songs of the summer—foolish +words, seductive music—everybody +hummed it half the time. Roger Barnes +smiled to himself, remembering where he +had heard it last.</p> +<p>“Come here and give account,” commanded +Suzanne the instant he appeared. +“Every unmarried man vanished the moment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +twilight fell. You are the last to +show your face. I challenge you, one and +all, to swear that you have not been within +sight of a certain small brown house at +the foot of the hill since supper.”</p> +<p>Her voice was music; in her eyes was +laughter. Marie sang on, pointing her +words with smiles at one and another of +the culprits.</p> +<p>From his seat on the threshold of the +door, where his head rested against Juliet’s +knee as she sat behind him, Anthony +laughed to himself. Then he turned his +head and whispered to his wife: “Feel +the claws through the velvet? Poor boys, +they have my sympathy.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_AN_UNKNOWN_QUANTITY' id='XVIII_AN_UNKNOWN_QUANTITY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +<h2>XVIII.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>An Unknown Quantity</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“Rachel,” said Juliet decisively, next +morning, “to-night is the last of my house +party, and I refuse to let you off. I’m +asking ten or twelve more people out +from town. You must spend this evening +with my guests, or forfeit my friendship.”</p> +<p>She was smiling as she said it, but her +tone was not to be denied.</p> +<p>“If that is the alternative,” Rachel answered, +returning the smile with an affectionate +look of a sort which neither Louis +Lockwood nor Stevens Cathcart nor Dr. +Roger Barnes had ever seen on her face—though +they had dreamed of it—“of course +I shall stay. But I’ll tell you frankly I +would rather not.”</p> +<p>“Why not, Rachel?”</p> +<p>“I think you know why not, Mrs. Robeson,” +Rachel answered.</p> +<p>“Yes, I know why not,” admitted Juliet. +“Girls are queer things, Ray. They defeat +their own ends all the time—lots of them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +Suzanne and Marie are dear girls, with ever +so many nice things about them, but they +don’t—they don’t know enough not to +pursue, chase, run down, the object of their +desires. And, of course, the object, being +run down panting, into a corner, dodges, +evades, gets out and runs away. Rachel, +dear, what are you going to wear to-night?”</p> +<p>“My best frock,” said Rachel, smiling.</p> +<p>“Which is——”</p> +<p>“White.”</p> +<p>“Cut out at the neck?”</p> +<p>“A little.”</p> +<p>“Short in the sleeves?”</p> +<p>“To the elbows. It was my sophomore +evening dress.”</p> +<p>“It will be all right, I know. Rachel, +wear a white rose in those low black braids +of yours—will you?”</p> +<p>“No, I think I won’t,” refused Rachel.</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>Rachel did not answer. Into her cool +cheek crept a tinge of rebellious, telltale +colour.</p> +<p>Juliet studied her a minute in silence, then +came up to her and laying both hands on +her shoulders looked up into her eyes.</p> +<p>“You try to ‘play fair,’ don’t you, dear?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +she said heartily, “whatever the rest may +do. And whatever they may do, Rachel +Redding, don’t you care. It’s not your +fault that they are as jealous of you as girls +can be and keep sweet outside. I’d be +jealous of you myself if——” She paused, +laughing.</p> +<p>“When you grow jealous,” said Rachel, +“it will be because you have grown blind. +If anybody ever wore his heart on his sleeve—no, +not there—but beating sturdily in the +right place for one woman in the world +it’s——”</p> +<p>“Right you are,” said Anthony Robeson, +coming up behind them, “and I hope you +may convince her of it. She has no confidence +in her own powers.”</p> +<p>Rachel stood looking at them a moment, +her dark eyes very bright. “To see you +two,” she said slowly at length, “is to +believe it all.”</p> +<p>The evening promised to be a gay one. +The men of the party had sent to town for +many lanterns, flags and decorations of the +sort, and had made the porch and lawn the +setting for a brilliant scene. A dozen young +people had been asked out, and came +enthusiastically. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span></p> +<p>“We’ll wind up with a flourish,” said +Anthony in his wife’s ear as they descended +the stairs together, “and then we’ll send +them all off to-morrow where they’ll cease +from troubling. I think it was the best plan +in the world, but I’ll be glad to prowl about +my beloved home without observing Cathcart +scowling at Lockwood, Roger Barnes +evading Suzanne, or even my good boy +Wayne with that eternal wonder on his +face as to why his flat does not look like our +Eden.”</p> +<p>“Hush—and don’t look too happy to-morrow, +Tony. Oh, here comes Rachel. +Isn’t she lovely?”</p> +<p>“Now, watch,” murmured Anthony, his +face full of amusement. “It’s as good as +the best comedy I ever saw. See Suzanne. +She never looked toward Rachel, but don’t +tell me she wasn’t aware of the very instant +Rachel came upon the porch. I +believe she read it in Roger Barnes’s face. +I’ll wager ten to one his pulse isn’t countable +at the present instant.”</p> +<p>“I don’t blame him,” Juliet answered, +smiling at her guests. “She’s my ideal of a +girl who won’t hold out a finger to the +men.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></p> +<p>“Yes, she’s your sort,” admitted Anthony. +“I know what it is—poor fellows—I’ve +been through it. Your cold shoulder +used to warm up my heart hotter than any +other girl’s kindness. Look at the boys +now. They can’t jump and run away from +the other girls, but they’d like to. And +they’re all deadly anxious for fear the +others will get the start. Say, Julie, you +ought not to have asked those new youngsters +down from town. They’ll catch it, +sure as fate; they’re at the susceptible +age. I see five of them now, all staring at +Rachel.”</p> +<p>“You positively mustn’t stay here with +me any longer,” whispered Juliet. “Go +and devote yourself to her and keep them +off for a little.”</p> +<p>“Not on your life,” Anthony returned +“She can take care of herself. If I mix +up in this fray you’re likely to be husbandless. +Lockwood and Roger are getting +dangerous, and I’m going to keep on the +outskirts where it’s safe.”</p> +<p>They were all upon the lawn—Rachel, +unable to help herself, according to Anthony’s +intimation, the centre of a group +of men who would not give each other a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +chance—when a stranger appeared upon +the edge of the circle of light. He stood +watching the scene for a moment—a tall, +slender fellow, with a pale face and deep-set +eyes. Then he asked somebody to tell +Miss Redding that Mr. Huntington would +like to speak with her. Rachel, thus +summoned, rose, looked about her, caught +sight of the stranger, and went swiftly +down the lawn. A dozen people, among +them all the men who had been the guests +of the week, saw the meeting. They observed +that the newcomer put out both +hands, that his smile was very bright, and +that he stood looking down into Miss Redding’s +face as if at sight of it he had instantly +forgotten everything else in the world.</p> +<p>Rachel, leaving him, came back up the +lawn to find her hostess. As she passed +it became evident to a good many pairs +of sharp eyes that her beauty had received +a keen accession from the sweeping over +her cheeks of a burning blush—so unusual +that they could not fail to take note +of it.</p> +<p>Juliet came back down the lawn with +Rachel, who presented Mr. Huntington; +and presently, without a word of leave-taking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +to any one else, the two went away +down the road.</p> +<p>“Now, who under the heavens was that?” +grunted Louis Lockwood in Anthony’s ear, +catching his host around the corner of the +house.</p> +<p>“Don’t know.”</p> +<p>“Brother, perhaps?”</p> +<p>“Hasn’t any.”</p> +<p>“Relative?”</p> +<p>“Don’t know.”</p> +<p>“Just a messenger, maybe?”</p> +<p>“Give it up.”</p> +<p>“She blushed like anything.”</p> +<p>“Did she? Man she is going to marry, +probably.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that can’t be!”</p> +<p>“The lady looks marriageable to me,” +observed Anthony, strolling away.</p> +<p>He ran into Cathcart.</p> +<p>“Say, who was that fellow, Tony?” began +Stevens.</p> +<p>“Don’t ask me.”</p> +<p>“He looked confoundedly as if he meant +to embrace her on the spot.”</p> +<p>“So he did,” agreed Anthony soothingly. +“Don’t blame him, do you? He may not +have seen her for a month. What condition +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +do you suppose you’d be in if a week +should get away from you out of her +vicinity?”</p> +<p>“Bother you, Tony—don’t you know who +he was?”</p> +<p>“Intimate friend, I should judge.”</p> +<p>“She turned pink as a carnation.”</p> +<p>“Say hollyhock,” suggested Anthony, +“or peony. Only a vivid colour could do +justice to it.”</p> +<p>“That’s right,” groaned Cathcart. “She +never looked like that for any of us.”</p> +<p>“Never,” said Anthony promptly, and +got away, chuckling.</p> +<p>“Hold on, there, Robeson, man,” said +the voice of Dr. Roger Barnes, and Anthony +found himself again held up.</p> +<p>“Come on, old Roger boy,” said his host +pleasantly. “We’ll amble down the road +a bit and give you a chance to get a grip on +yourself. No, I don’t know who he is. +I’m all worn out assuring Louis and Steve +of that. She did turn red, she did look upset—with +joy, I infer. That girl has made +more havoc in one short week—playing off +all the while, too—than Suzanne and Marie +have accomplished in the biggest season +they ever knew. And I believe, Roger +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +boy, you’re about the hardest hit of any +of them.”</p> +<p>The doctor did not answer. The two +had walked away from the house and were +marching arm in arm at a good pace down +the road.</p> +<p>“She’s as poor as a church mouse,” suggested +Anthony.</p> +<p>There was no reply.</p> +<p>“She has a dead weight of a helpless +father and mother.”</p> +<p>The doctor put match to a cigar.</p> +<p>“Juliet says her brother died of dissipation +in a gambling-house.”</p> +<p>Doctor Barnes began to chew hard on a +cigar that he had failed to light.</p> +<p>“But she’s a mighty sweet girl,” said +Anthony softly.</p> +<p>“See here, Tony,” the doctor burst out.—“Oh, +hang it all—”</p> +<p>“I see,” said his friend, with a hand on +his shoulder. “Go ahead, Roger Barnes—there’s +nothing in life like it; and the good +Lord have mercy on you, for the sort of +girl worth caring for doesn’t know the +meaning of the word.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span></div> +<p>“All gone, little girl,” said Anthony +jubilantly, as he turned back into the +house the next evening, after watching out +of sight the big touring-car of Lockwood’s +which had carried all his house-party away +at once. “They are mighty fine people and +I like them all immensely—but—I have +enjoyed to the full this speeding the parting +guest. And now for my vacation. It +begins to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“What shall we do?” asked Juliet, allowing +him to draw her into his favourite settle +corner.</p> +<p>“Go fishing. If you’ll put up a jolly +little—I mean a jolly big—lunch, and array +yourself in unspoilable attire, I’ll give you +a day’s great sport, whether we catch any +fish or not. There’s one fish you’re sure +of—he’s always on the end of your line: +hooked fast, and resigned to his fate. Juliet, +are they really all gone?”</p> +<p>“I’m sure they are.”</p> +<p>“Good Mary McKaim—peace be to her +ashes, for she never gets any on the toast—has +she gone, too?”</p> +<p>“She’s packing.”</p> +<p>“Rachel safe at home with her presumable +fiancé?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></p> +<p>“He can’t be her fiancé, Tony—”</p> +<p>“That’s what Lockwood said—but I suppose +he can, just the same. Rachel away, +do you say?”</p> +<p>“Yes. She didn’t come over to-day at +all, you know.”</p> +<p>“I noticed it—by the gloom on three +stalwart men’s faces. Well, if everybody’s +safely out of the way I’m going to commit +myself.”</p> +<p>“To what, Tony?”</p> +<p>She was laughing, for he had risen, looked +all about him with great anxiety, tiptoed +to each door and listened at it, and was now +come back to stand before her, smiling +down at her and holding out his arms.</p> +<p>“To the statement,” he said, gathering +her close and speaking into her upturned +rosy face, “that without doubt this is the +dearest home in the world, and that you +are the sweetest woman who ever has +stood or ever will stand here in it.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIX_ALL_THE_APRIL_STARS_ARE_OUT' id='XIX_ALL_THE_APRIL_STARS_ARE_OUT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +<h2>XIX.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>All the April Stars Are Out</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>It was an April night—balmy with the +breath of an exceptionally early spring. +All the April stars were out as Anthony +came to the door of the little house, and +opening it flung himself out upon the +porch, drawing great breaths. He looked +up into the sky and clasped his arms +tightly over his breast.</p> +<p>“O God,” he said aloud, “take care +of her—”</p> +<p>He went back into the house after a +minute, and paced the floor back and forth, +back and forth, stopping at each turn to +listen at the foot of the stairs; then took +up his stride again, his lips set, his eyes +dark with anxiety. Over and over he +went to the open door to look up at the +stars, as if somehow he could bear his ordeal +best outdoors.</p> +<p>When half the night had gone Mrs. +Dingley came downstairs. Anthony met +her at the foot. She smiled reassuringly +into his face. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></p> +<p>“This is hard for you, dear boy,” she +said. “But they think by morning——”</p> +<p>“Morning!” he cried.</p> +<p>“Everything is going well——”</p> +<p>“It’s only two o’clock. Morning!”</p> +<p>“She says tell you she’s going to be very +happy soon.”</p> +<p>But at that Anthony turned away, where +his face could not be seen, and stood by the +open door. Mrs. Dingley laid an affectionate +hand on his arm.</p> +<p>“Don’t worry, Tony,” she said gently.</p> +<p>“I can’t help it.”</p> +<p>“This is new to you. Juliet is young +and strong—and full of courage.”</p> +<p>“Bless her!”</p> +<p>“In the morning you’ll both be very +happy.”</p> +<p>“I hope so.”</p> +<p>“Why, Anthony, dear,” said the kindly +little woman, “I never knew you to be so +faint of heart.”</p> +<p>Anthony faced around again. “If my +strength could do her any good I’d be a +lion for her,” he said. “But when all I +can do is to wait—and think what I’d do +if——”</p> +<p>He was gone suddenly into the night. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +With a tender smile on her lips Mrs. +Dingley went on upon the errand which had +brought her downstairs. “It’s worth something +to a woman to be able to make a +man’s heart ache like that,” she said to +herself with a little sigh. Anthony would +not have understood, but even in this +hour the older woman, in her wisdom, was +envying Juliet.</p> +<p>Morning came at last, as mornings do. +With the first streaks of the gray dawn +Anthony heard a little, high-keyed, strange +cry—new to his ears. He leaped up the +stairs, four at a time, and paused, breathless, +by the closed door of the blue-and-white +room. After what seemed to him an interminable +time Mrs. Dingley came out. +At sight of Anthony her face broke into +smiles, and at the same moment tears +filled her eyes.</p> +<p>“It’s a splendid boy, Tony,” she said. “I +meant to come to you the first minute, but +I waited to be perfectly sure. He didn’t +breathe well at first.”</p> +<p>But Anthony pushed this news aside +impatiently. “Juliet?” he questioned +eagerly.</p> +<p>“She’s all right, you poor man,” Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +Dingley assured him. “You shall see her +presently, just for a minute. The first +thing she said was, ‘Tell Tony.’ Go down +now—I’ll call you soon.”</p> +<p>Anthony stole away downstairs to the +outer door again. This time he ran out +upon the porch and down the lawn and +orchard, in the early half-light, to the willow +path by the brook. He dashed along this +path to its end and back again, as if he +must in some way give expression to his +relief from the tension of the night. But +he was back and waiting impatiently long +before he received his summons to his wife’s +room.</p> +<p>On his way up he wrung the friendly +hand of Dr. Joseph Wilberforce, the best +man in the city at times like these, and +thanked him in a few uneven words. Then +he came to the door of the blue-and-white +room.</p> +<p>“Don’t be afraid, Tony,” said a very +sweet, clear voice; “we’re ever so well—Anthony +Robeson, Junior, and I.”</p> +<p>Anthony Robeson, Senior, walked across +the room in a dim, gray fog which obscured +nearly everything except the sight of a pair +of eyes which were shining upon him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +brightly enough to penetrate any fog. At +the bedside he dropped upon his knees.</p> +<p>“I suppose I’m an awful chump,” he +murmured, “but nothing ever broke me +up so in all my life.”</p> +<p>Juliet laughed. It was not a sentimental +greeting, but she understood all it meant. +“But I’m so happy, dear,” she said.</p> +<p>“Are you? Somehow I can’t seem to +be—yet. I’m too badly scared.”</p> +<p>“He’s such a beautiful big boy.”</p> +<p>“I suppose I shall be devoted to him some +time, but all I can think of now is to make +sure I’ve got you.”</p> +<p>The pleasant-faced nurse in her white +cap came softly in and glanced at Tony +meaningly.</p> +<p>“If you’ll come in here you may see your +son, Mr. Robeson,” she said, and went out +again.</p> +<p>Anthony bent over his wife. “<i>Little +mother</i>,” he whispered, with a kiss, and +obediently went.</p> +<p>Across the hall he stood looking dazedly +down at the round, warm bundle the nurse +laid in his arms.</p> +<p>“My son,” he said; “how odd that +sounds.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></p> +<p>Then he hastily gave the bundle back to +the nurse and got away downstairs, wiping +the perspiration from his brow.</p> +<p>“Never dreamed it was going to knock +me over like this,” he was saying to himself. +“I can’t look at her; I can’t look at him; I +feel like a big boy who has seen a little +fellow take his thrashing for him.”</p> +<p>And in this humble—albeit most sincerely +thankful—frame of mind he absently drank +his breakfast coffee, and never realised that +in her confusion of spirit good Mary McKaim, +who was here again in time of need, +had brewed him instead a powerful cup of +tea.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XX_A_PRIOR_CLAIM' id='XX_A_PRIOR_CLAIM'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +<h2>XX.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Prior Claim</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“Come up, come up—you’re just the +people we want,” cried Anthony heartily +from his own porch. “Thought you’d be +getting out to see us some of these fine +August nights. Sit down—Juliet will be +out in a minute.”</p> +<p>“Baby asleep?” asked Judith Carey, as +she and Wayne settled comfortably into +two of the deep bamboo chairs with which +the porch was furnished.</p> +<p>“To be sure he’s asleep at this hour,” +Anthony assured her proudly; “been asleep +for two hours. Regular as a clock, that +youngster. Nurse trained him right at the +beginning, and Juliet has kept it up. Four +months old now, and sleeps from six at night +till four in the morning without waking. +How’s that?”</p> +<p>“I suppose it’s remarkable,” agreed +Wayne meekly, “but I don’t know anything +about it. He might sleep twenty-three +hours out of twenty-four—I shouldn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +understand whether to call him a prodigy +or an idiot.”</p> +<p>“Why, yes, you would,” Judith interposed +with spirit. “Think of that baby on +the floor above us. They’re walking the +floor half the night with her.”</p> +<p>“Girl babies may be different,” Carey +suggested diffidently, at which Anthony +shouted. “I don’t care—all the girls I +ever knew wanted to sit up nights,” Carey +insisted with a feeble grin.</p> +<p>Juliet came out, welcoming her friends +with the cordiality for which she was +famous. “It’s so hot in town,” she condoled +with them. “You should get out +into our delicious air oftener. Somehow, +with our breezes we don’t mind the heat.”</p> +<p>“It’s heaven here, anyhow,” sighed +Carey, stretching back in his chair with a +long breath. Judith looked sober.</p> +<p>“You say it’s heaven,” commented +Anthony, staring hard at his friend, “and +you profess to admire everything we do, and +eat, and say, but you continue to pay good +money every week for a lot of extremely +dubious comforts—from my point of view.”</p> +<p>“It’s one of the very best places in that +part of the city,” protested Judith. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p> +<p>Anthony eyed her keenly. “Yes; if +that’s what you’re paying for you’ve got +it, I admit. If it’s a consolation to you to +know that the address you give when you +go shopping is one that you’re not ashamed +of—why, you’re all right. But I reckon +Juliet here doesn’t blush when she orders +things sent home to the country.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Juliet—” began Judith; “she doesn’t +need an address to make all the salespeople +pay her their most respectful attention. +She——”</p> +<p>“I understand,” said Anthony. “That +sweetly imperious way of hers when she +shops—I remember it the first time I ever +went shopping with her——”</p> +<p>Juliet gave him a laughing glance. “If +I remember,” she said, “it wasn’t I who +did all the dictating on that historic expedition +when we furnished this house.”</p> +<p>“We’ve got to go shopping again,” +Anthony informed them. “We’re planning +to put a little wing on the house, opening +from under the stairs in the living-room, +for a nursery and a den.”</p> +<p>“Going to put the two together?” asked +a new voice from the dimness of the lawn.</p> +<p>“Oh—hullo, Roger Barnes, M.D., +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +F.R.C.S.—come up. No, I think we’ll +have a partition between. But I want a +room below stairs for Tony, Junior, so +his mother won’t wear herself out carrying +him up and down. That youngster +weighs seventeen pounds and a fraction +already.”</p> +<p>“I was confident I’d get some statistics +if I came out,” said the doctor, settling +himself near Juliet—with a purpose, as she +instantly recognised. “It seemed to me +I couldn’t wait longer to learn how much +he had gained since I met Tony day before +yesterday. It was seventeen without the +fraction then.”</p> +<p>“That’s right—guy me,” returned Anthony +comfortably. “I don’t mind—I’ve +the boy.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“I want a talk with you,” said the doctor +softly to Juliet, as the others fell to discussing +the project of the enlarged house. +“I’ve got to have it, too—or go off my +head.”</p> +<p>Juliet nodded, understanding him. Presently +she rose. “I have an errand to do,” +she said. “Will you walk over to the +Evanstons’ with me, Roger?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></p> +<p>“Now, tell me,” began the doctor the +instant they were off, “is she going to +persist in this awful sacrifice?”</p> +<p>“Poor Rachel,” breathed Juliet. “So +many lovers—and so unhappy.”</p> +<p>“Is she unhappy?” begged the doctor. +“Is she? If I only were sure of it——”</p> +<p>“What girl wouldn’t be unhappy—to be +making even one man out of two as miserable +as you?”</p> +<p>“But you know what I mean. Is she +going to marry Huntington out of love as +well as pity—or only pity?”</p> +<p>“Roger”—Juliet stood still in the road, +regarding him in the dim light with kind +eyes—“if I knew I wouldn’t tell you. That’s +Rachel’s secret. But I don’t know. She’s +as loyal as a magnet, and as reserved as—you +would want her to be if you were Mr. +Huntington.”</p> +<p>“She’s everything she ought to be. I’m +a dastard for saying it, but I could forgive +her for being disloyal enough to him to +show me just a corner of her heart. Even +if she loves him it’s what I called it—an +awful sacrifice—a man dying with consumption. +If she doesn’t—except as the +friend of her early girlhood, when she didn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +know men or her own heart—Juliet, it’s +impious.”</p> +<p>“Roger, dear, keep hold of yourself,” +Juliet replied. “You’re too strong and +fine to want to come between her +and her own decision—if she has +made it.”</p> +<p>“If you were a man,” said he hotly, +“would you let a woman marry you—dying?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Juliet stoutly, “if she +insisted.”</p> +<p>“Women are capable of saying anything +in an argument,” he growled. “I +say it’s outrageous to let her do it. She +doesn’t love him—she does love me,” he +blurted.</p> +<p>Juliet turned to him anxiously. “Roger, +do you know what you are saying?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I do. I’ve got to tell somebody, +and there’s nobody but you—you perfect +woman. If ever a man knew a thing +without its being put into words I know +that. It was only a look, weeks ago, but +I’m as sure of it as I am of myself. I’ve +had nothing but coolness from her since, +but that’s in self-defense. And the thought +that, loving me, she’s going to give herself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +to him—a wreck—do you wonder it’s +driving me mad?”</p> +<p>“You ought not to have told me this,” +said Juliet, tears in her voice. “If Rachel +is doing this it’s because she’s sure she +ought——”</p> +<p>“Of course she is. And that’s why I tell +you. You have more influence with her +than any one. Can’t you show her that +duty, the most urgent in the world, never +requires a thing like that? Let her be his +friend to the last—the sort of friend she +knows how to be, with a warm hand in his +cold one. But never his——”</p> +<p>The doctor grew choky with his vehemence, +and stopped short. Juliet was +silent, full of distress. She thought of the +two men—Huntington, a frail ghost, in the +grip of a deadly illness, yet fighting it desperately, +and desperately clinging to the +girl he loved: a clever fellow, educated as a +mining engineer, successful, even beginning +to be distinguished in his work until his +health gave out; Barnes, the embodiment +of strength, standing high in his profession, +life and the world before him, a fit mate for +the girl who deserved the best there could +be for her—Juliet thought of them both and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +found her heart aching for them—and for +Rachel Redding.</p> +<p>They were slowly approaching the brown +house at the foot of the hill, the errand at +the Evanstons’ forgotten, when suddenly a +familiar figure in white came toward them +from the doorway. The doctor started at +sight of it, and Juliet grew breathless all at +once.</p> +<p>“I thought it was you two,” said Rachel. +“This rising moon struck you full just now, +and I could see you plainly. I’ve wanted +to see you both—and this is my last chance. +I am going away to-morrow.”</p> +<p>There was an instant’s silence, while +Roger Barnes tried to choose which of all +the things he wanted to say to her should +come first. Juliet broke the stillness.</p> +<p>“Walk back up the road with us, dear,” +she said, “and tell us how and where you +go.”</p> +<p>“I have but a minute to spare,” said +Rachel. “Let me say good-bye to you +both here——”</p> +<p>“No, by heaven, you shall not,” burst +out the doctor in a suppressed voice of +fire which startled Juliet. “You owe me +ten minutes, in place of the last letter you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +haven’t answered. There are a score of +them, you know—but the last has to be +answered somehow.”</p> +<p>Rachel hesitated. “Very well,” she said +at length, “but only with Mrs. Robeson.”</p> +<p>“Can’t you trust me?” He was angry +now.</p> +<p>“Yes—but not myself,” she answered, +so low he barely caught the words. He +seized her hand.</p> +<p>“Then trust me for us both,” he said, so +instantly gentle and tender that Juliet +found it possible to say what a moment +before she had thought unwise enough: +“Go with him, Ray, dear. I think it is his +right.”</p> +<p>So presently she found herself crossing her +own lawn alone, while the two who had just +left her went slowly on up the road together. +Her heart was beating hard and painfully, +for she loved them both, and foresaw for +them only the hardest interview of their +lives.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>At the end of half an hour Rachel Redding +stood again upon her own porch, and +Roger Barnes looked up at her from the +walk below with heavy eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></p> +<p>“At least,” he said, “you have done what +I never would have believed even you could +do—convinced me against my will that you +are right. You love him—he worships you. +There is a promise of life for him in Arizona—with +you. I can’t forbid the bans. But +I shall always believe, what you dare not +dispute, that if I had come first—you——”</p> +<p>She held out her hand. “That you must +not say,” she said. “But there is one thing +you may say—that you are my best friend, +whom I can count on——”</p> +<p>“As long as there is life left in me,” he +answered fervently. He wrung her hand +in both his, looked long and steadily up into +her face as if his eyes could never leave +the lovely outlines showing clear in the +light from the windows, then turned away +and strode off toward the station without +a look behind.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXI_EVERYBODY_GIVES_ADVICE' id='XXI_EVERYBODY_GIVES_ADVICE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +<h2>XXI.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Everybody Gives Advice</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“I should do it in brown leather,” said +Cathcart decidedly, looking about him.</p> +<p>He stood in the centre of Anthony’s den. +The carpenters had gone, the plasterers +had finished their work, and the floor had +just been swept up.</p> +<p>“You’re all right as far as you go,” observed +Anthony, who stood at his elbow, +“but you don’t go far enough. If you +want me to hang these walls with brown +leather you’ll have to put up the money. +I may be sufficiently prosperous to afford +the addition to my house, but I haven’t +reached the stage of covering the walls with +cloth-of-gold.”</p> +<p>“Burlap would be the thing, Tony,” +Judith suggested.</p> +<p>Anthony was surrounded by people—the +room was half full of them, elbowing +each other about.</p> +<p>“Paint the walls,” advised Lockwood.</p> +<p>“There are imitation-leather papers,” +said Cathcart, with the air of one condescending +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +to lower a high standard for the +sake of those who could not live up to it.</p> +<p>“I suppose so,” admitted Anthony, “at +four dollars a roll. I saw a simple thing +on that order that struck me the other day +at Heminways’. I thought it might be +about forty cents a roll. It was a dollar a +square yard. I told them I would think +it over. I haven’t got through thinking it +over yet.”</p> +<p>“You want a plate-rail,” said Wayne +Carey.</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“Why, to put plates, and steins, and +things on.”</p> +<p>“Haven’t a plate—or a stein. Baby has +a silver mug. Would that do?”</p> +<p>Cathcart smiled in a superior way. +“You had a lot of mighty fine stuff in your +Yale days,” he remarked. “Pity you let +it all go.”</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t have cared for that truck +now,” Anthony declared easily, though he +deceived nobody by it. Most of them remembered, +if Cathcart had forgotten, how +the college boy had sacrificed all his treasures +at a blow when the news of his family’s +misfortunes had come. It had yielded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +little enough, after all, to throw into the +abyss of their sudden poverty, but the act +had proved the spirit of the elder son of the +house.</p> +<p>“You certainly will want plenty of rugs +and hangings of the right sort,” Cathcart +pursued.</p> +<p>Anthony looked at him good-humouredly. +“I can see that you have got to be suppressed,” +he said, with a hand on Stevens’s +collar. “I can tell you in a breath just +what’s going into this room at present. +The floor is to have a matting, one of those +heavy, cloth-like mattings. Auntie Dingley +has presented me with one fine old Persian +rug from the Marcy library, which she insists +is out of key with the rest of the stuff. +I’m glad it is—it’ll furnish the key to my +decorations. Then I’ve a splendid old desk +I picked up in a place where they temporarily +forgot themselves in setting a price on it. +That’s going by the window. I’ve a little +Dürer engraving, and a few good foreign +photographs Juliet has put under glass for +me. For the rest I have—what I like best—clear +space, pipe-and-hearth room, the +bamboo chairs off the porch with some +winter cushions in, my books—and that.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></p> +<p>He pointed to the windows, outside +which lay a long country vista stretching +away over fields and river to the +woods in the distance, turning rich autumn +tints now under the late October +frosts.</p> +<p>“It’s enough,” said Carey, with the suppressed +sigh which usually accompanied any +allusion of his to Anthony’s environment. +“Dens are too stuffy, as a rule. Fellows +try to see how much useless lumber they +can accumulate in altogether inadequate +space.”</p> +<p>“But you ought to have a couch,” said +Judith.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, I’m going to have a couch,” +assented Anthony, laughing across her head +at Juliet. “A gem of a couch—we’re +making it ourselves. You’re not to see it +till it’s done. It’ll be no brickbat couch, +either—it’ll be a flowery bed of ease—or, +if not flowery, invitingly covered with some +stunning stuff Juliet has fished out of a +neighbour’s attic.”</p> +<p>“Now, come and see the nursery,” Juliet +proposed, and the party crowded through +the door into the living-room, around to +the one by its side which opened into an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +attractive room behind the den, all air +and sunshine.</p> +<p>“I refuse to suggest,” said Cathcart instantly, +“the decorations for this place.”</p> +<p>“That’s good,” remarked Anthony cheerfully. +“So much verbiage out of the way.”</p> +<p>“It’ll be pink and white, I suppose,” said +Judith. “Pink is the colour for boys, I’m +told.”</p> +<p>Behind all their backs Anthony glanced +at his wife, affection and amusement in +his face. She read the look and smiled +back. It was no part of their plan to let +the boy grow up alone. And as a mother +she seemed to him far more beautiful than +she had ever been.</p> +<p>“We are going to have a little paper with +nursery-rhyme pictures all over it,” explained +Juliet. “There are all sorts of +softly harmonising colours in it. And just +a matting on the floor with a rug to play on, +his white crib, and some gay little curtains +at the windows.”</p> +<p>“Have you made the partition double-thick, +old man?” asked Lockwood. “This +den-nursery combination strikes me as a +little dubious.”</p> +<p>“It’s no use explaining to a fiendish old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +bachelor,” said Anthony, leading the way +out of the place, “that I’d think I was +missing a good deal if I should get so far +away that I couldn’t hear little Tony laugh—or +cry. Julie, where’s the boy? May I +bring him down?”</p> +<p>He disappeared upstairs, whence sounds +of hilarity were at once heard. Presently +he reappeared on the stairs, bearing aloft +upon his shoulder a rosy cherub of a baby, +smiling and waving a chubby fist at the +company. The beauty in his face was +an exquisite mixture of that belonging +to both father and mother. Anthony and +his son together made a picture worth +seeing.</p> +<p>Once more Wayne Carey smothered a +sigh. But Judith hardened her heart. +Since Baby Anthony had come Wayne had +been difficult to manage.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Lockwood stayed after the others had +gone. Sitting smoking before the fire with +Anthony after Juliet had left them alone +he brought the conversation around to a +point which Anthony had expected.</p> +<p>“What do you hear of that man Huntington?” +he asked, as indifferently as a man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +is ever able to ask a question which means +much to him.</p> +<p>“Huntington? Why, the last was that +he was improving a little, I believe. Arizona +is a great place for that sort of thing.”</p> +<p>“Good deal of a sacrifice for her people +to go with her way out there.”</p> +<p>“She couldn’t leave them behind. Father +half-blind—mother a cripple. I understand +that Arizona air is bracing them, too.”</p> +<p>“The fellow’s own mother was one of the +party, wasn’t she?”</p> +<p>“I believe so. He’s all she has.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see, with all those people to +chaperon her, why she couldn’t have gone +along with him without marrying him,” +observed Lockwood in a gruff tone.</p> +<p>Anthony smiled. “That would have +been a Tantalus draught indeed,” he +remarked. “I imagine poor Huntington +will need all the concessions he can get if +he keeps on breathing even Arizona air.”</p> +<p>“Anthony,” said Lockwood, after a +silence of some minutes, during which he +had puffed away with his eyes intent on the +fire, “do you fancy Rachel Redding cared +enough for that man to immolate herself +like that?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></p> +<p>“Looks very much like it.”</p> +<p>“I know it looks like it; but if I read that +girl right she was the sort to stick to anything +she’d said she’d do, if it took the +breath out of her body. How long had she +known him—any idea?”</p> +<p>“A good while, I believe.”</p> +<p>“I thought so. Early engagement, you +see—ought never to have stood.”</p> +<p>“If you’d been Huntington you’d probably +have had the unreasonable notion that +it should.”</p> +<p>“She’s a magnificent girl,” said Lockwood, +blowing a great volume of smoke +into the air with head elevated and half-shut +eyes. “She made those two who were +here with her last summer seem like thirty +cents beside her. Nice girls, too—fine +girls—elegant dressers; I don’t know what +the matter was. Neither did they.” He +chuckled a little. “They couldn’t believe +their own eyes when they saw three of us +going daft over a girl they wouldn’t have +staked a copper on in a free-for-all with +themselves. They took it gamely, I’ll say +that for them. Marie won’t have me back.”</p> +<p>“I don’t blame her.”</p> +<p>“Neither do I. Haven’t got to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +want-to-be-taken-back stage—sometimes +think I never shall. One experience like +that spoils a man for the average girl. +The truth is, Tony, the most of them—er—overdo +the meet-you-half-way act. I want +a girl to keep me guessing till the last +minute.”</p> +<p>“Tell that to the girl,” advised Anthony.</p> +<p>“I wish I could. Yet there were a good +many times when I thought if Rachel +Redding would just look my way I shouldn’t +take it ill of her. I wonder if she’d have +been like that if she hadn’t been engaged to +another fellow.”</p> +<p>“Probably.” Anthony got up and +stretched himself. He was growing weary +of other men’s confidences.</p> +<p>“You’re right she would. She’s built +that way. Yet when you get to fancying +what she’d be if she just let herself go and +show she cared——”</p> +<p>“Look here, my young friend,” said Anthony, +“I advise you to go home and go to +bed. Sitting here dreaming over Mrs. Alexander +Huntington isn’t good for you. What +you want to be doing is to forget her. +Huntington’s going to get well, and they’re +going to live happily ever after, and you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +fellows out here can look up other girls. +Plenty of ’em. Only, for the love of heaven, +see if you can avoid all setting your affections +on the same girl next time. It’s +too rough on your friends!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXII_ROGER_BARNES_PROVES_INVALUABLE' id='XXII_ROGER_BARNES_PROVES_INVALUABLE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +<h2>XXII.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Roger Barnes Proves Invaluable</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Time went swinging on, and by and by it +came to be Tony Robeson, Junior’s, second +Christmas day. He rode down to breakfast +on his father’s shoulder, crowing loudly on +a gorgeous brown and scarlet rooster, which +he had found on his Christmas tree the +evening before. He had been put to bed +immediately thereafter and had gone to +sleep with the rooster in his arms. The +fowl had a charmingly realistic crow, operated +by a pneumatic device upon which +the baby had promptly learned to blow. +He performed upon it uninterruptedly +throughout breakfast.</p> +<p>“See here, my son,” said Anthony, hurriedly +finishing his coffee, “let’s see if you +can’t appreciate some of your less voiceful +toys. Here’s a rabbit with fine soft ears +for you to pull. There’s a train of cars. +Let me wind it for you. Your Grandfather +Marcy must have expended several good +dollars on that—you want to show up an +interest in it when he comes out to see you +to-day. And here’s Auntie Dingley’s pickaninny +boy-doll—well, I don’t blame you +for failing to embrace that. Auntie Dingley +was born in Massachusetts.”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-215.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 324px; height: 524px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 324px;'> +“Toys which can be relied upon to please a twenty months old infant.”<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>The boy cast an indifferently polite eye +on these gifts as their charms were exhibited +to him, and clasped the brown and scarlet +rooster to his breast. There were moments, +half hours even, when he became sufficiently +diverted from his fowl to cease from making +it crow, but at intervals throughout the +day the family were given to understand +once for all that it is not the most expensive +and ornate toys which can be relied upon +to please a twenty-months-old infant. Even +the automobile presented by Dr. Roger +Barnes, and warranted to go three times +around the room without stopping, was a +tame affair to the recipient compared with +the rooster’s shrill salute.</p> +<p>“Remember, Tony,” Juliet had said, a +month before Christmas, “you are not to +give me any expensive personal gift this +year. I care for nothing half so much as for +making the home complete. If—if—you +cared to give me something toward the +bathroom fund——”</p> +<p>“All right,” said Anthony promptly, for he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +had learned by this time to know his wife well. +The bathroom fund was dear to her heart. +The small room at the front of the house +upstairs, which had been left unfurnished, +had been temporarily fitted up as a bathroom +by sundry ingenious devices in the +way of a tin bath and a hot and cold water +connection, but a full equipment of the best +sort was to be put in as soon as practicable, +and there was a growing fund therefor.</p> +<p>On Christmas morning, nevertheless, in +addition to a generous addition to the fund, +Juliet found beside her plate an exceedingly +“personal gift” in the shape of a little +pearl-and-turquoise brooch of rare design, +bearing the stamp of a superior maker.</p> +<p>“Must I scold you?” she asked, smiling +up at him as he stood beside her, watching +her face flush with pleasure.</p> +<p>“Kiss me, instead,” he answered +promptly. “And don’t expect me to give +up making you now and then a real present, +even though it has to be a small one. It’s +too much fun.”</p> +<p>Beside his own plate he found her gift, +a set of histories he had long wanted. It +was a beautiful edition, and he would have +looked reproachfully at the giver if she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +had not forestalled him by running around +the table to say softly in his ear, both arms +about his neck: “Just at Christmas time, +dearest, let me have my way.”</p> +<p>The day was a happy one. Mr. Horatio +Marcy and Mrs. Dingley arrived on the +morning train and stayed until evening. +At the Christmas dinner Judith and Wayne +Carey and Dr. Roger Barnes were the additional +guests, and Mary McKaim was in the +kitchen. Dinner over, everybody sat about +the fireplace talking, when Juliet came in +to carry little Tony off to bed.</p> +<p>“Five minutes more,” begged Dr. Barnes, +on whose knee the child sat, a willing captive +to the arts of his entertainer. His +eyes, bright with the excitement of this +great day, were fixed upon the doctor’s +face.</p> +<p>“And so”—Barnes continued the story +he had begun—“the rooster climbed right +up the man’s leg”—the toy obeyed his +command and scaled the eminence from +the floor where it had been hiding behind +a Noah’s ark—“and perched on his knee, +and cried”—the rooster crowed lustily +and little Tony laughed ecstatically. “Then +the rooster flew up on the man’s shoulder +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +and flapped his wings, and all at once he +fell right over backwards and tumbled on his +head on the floor.—Got to go to bed, +Tony? Shall the rooster go too? All right. +May I carry him up for you, Juliet? Anthony’s +deep in that discussion. Get on my +back, old man—that’s the way!”</p> +<p>Everybody looked after the two as the +doctor mounted the stairs.</p> +<p>“That rooster has captivated the child +more than all the mechanical toys he has +had to-day,” said Mrs. Dingley.</p> +<p>“What a handsome fellow he is,” said +Carey, his eyes following little Tony till he +disappeared. “I never saw a healthier, +happier child. How sturdy he is on his +legs—have you noticed? He’s saying a +good many words, too. It was as good as +a play to see him imitate that rooster.”</p> +<p>Juliet’s father and Mrs. Dingley left on an +early evening train, and only the three +younger guests remained when Juliet came +downstairs after putting her boy to bed. +She set about gathering up the toys scattered +over the floor, and Barnes helped her. +In the midst of this labour, during which +they all made merry with some of the more +elaborate mechanical affairs, Juliet suddenly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +said “What’s that?” and went to the +bottom of the stairs.</p> +<p>“Let me go,” offered Anthony. “He’s +probably too excited to get to sleep easily +after all this dissipation.—Hullo!—he’s +crowing with the rooster yet.”</p> +<p>But Juliet went up, and he followed her, +saying from the landing to his guests, +“Excuse me for a little. I’ll get the boy +quiet, and let his mother come down. I’ve +a fine talent for that sort of thing. That +rooster will have to be given some soothing +syrup—he’s too lively a fowl.”</p> +<p>“I never saw a man fonder of his youngster +than Tony,” Carey observed.</p> +<p>“The child is a particularly fine specimen,” +the doctor said. “I think I never +saw a more ideal development than he +shows.”</p> +<p>He began to tell an incident in which +little Tony had been involved, when he +was interrupted.</p> +<p>“Barnes!”—called Anthony’s voice from +the top of the stairs. “Come up here, +please.”</p> +<p>There was something in the imperative +quality of this summons which made the +doctor run up the stairs, two at a time. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +Judith and Wayne listened. The rooster +could still be heard crowing, faintly but +distinctly.</p> +<p>“Perhaps he’s grown too excited over it,” +Judith suggested. “They ought to take +it away.”</p> +<p>Carey went to the bottom of the stairs and +listened. There were rapid movements overhead. +The doctor’s voice could be heard +giving directions through which sounded +the steady crowing of the toy. “Hold him +so—now move him that way as I thump—now +the other——”</p> +<p>Carey turned pale. “He’s got that rooster +in his throat,” he said solemnly. The +rooster was nearly life-size, but the incongruity +of this suggestion did not strike +him. Judith hastily rose from her chair +and went to him.</p> +<p>“Had we better go up?” he whispered.</p> +<p>“Heavens—no!” Judith clutched his +arm. “We couldn’t do any good. The +doctor’s there. Such things make me ill. +They ought not to have let him have the +toy to take to bed with him. How could it +get into his throat? Perhaps they are +making it crow to divert him. Perhaps +he’s hurt himself somehow.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></p> +<p>“He’s got the crow part of that thing in +his throat,” Carey persisted in an anxious +whisper. “The manufacturers ought to +be prosecuted for making a toy that will +come apart like that.”</p> +<p>“Don’t stand there,” protested his wife. +“Maybe it’s nothing. Come here and sit +down.”</p> +<p>But Carey stood still. Presently Anthony +came to the head of the stairs.</p> +<p>“Wayne,” said he rapidly, “telephone +Roger’s office. Ask the trained nurse, +Miss Hughes, to send a messenger with the +doctor’s emergency surgical case by the +first train—he can catch the 9:40 if he’s +quick. Tell Miss Hughes to follow as soon +as she can get ready, prepared to stay all +night.”</p> +<p>Then he disappeared. His voice had +been steady and quiet, but his eyes had +showed his friend that the order was given +under tension. Carey sprang to the telephone, +and his hand shook as he took down +the receiver.</p> +<p>Upstairs Roger Barnes, in command, was +giving cool, concise orders, his eyes on his +little patient. When he had despatched +Juliet for various things, including boiling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +water which she must get downstairs, he +said to Anthony in a conversational tone:</p> +<p>“It will probably not be safe to wait till +my instruments get here, and there’s no +surgeon near enough to call. I’m not +going to take any chances on this boy. +If I see the necessity I’m going to get into +that throat and give him air. I shall want +you and Carey to hold him. Juliet must be +downstairs.”</p> +<p>Anthony nodded. He did not quite +understand; but a few minutes later, when +Juliet had brought the boiling water, +he suddenly perceived what his friend +meant.</p> +<p>“Alcohol, now, please,” said the doctor. +When Juliet had disappeared again Barnes +drew from his pocket a pearl-handled +pocket-knife and tried its blades. “It’s a +fortunate thing somebody made me a +present of such a good one to-day,” he observed, +“but it needs sharpening a bit. +Have you an oil-stone handy?”</p> +<p>With tightly shut lips Anthony watched +the doctor put a bright edge on his smallest +blade, then, satisfied, drop the open knife +into the water bubbling over a spirit-lamp. +Anthony turned his head away for an instant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +from the struggling little figure on +the bed. Barnes eyed him keenly.</p> +<p>“You’re game, of course?” he said.</p> +<p>Anthony’s eyes met his and flashed fire. +“Don’t you know me better than that?”</p> +<p>“All right,” and the young surgeon +smiled. “But I’ve seen a medical man +himself go to pieces over his own child. +This is a simple matter,” he went on lightly. +“Luckily, boiling water is a more potent +antiseptic than all the drugs on the market—and +alcohol’s another. I shall want a +new hairpin or two—if Juliet has a wire +one.—That the alcohol? Thank you. Now +if you’ve the hairpins, Juliet—ah—a silver +one—all the better.”</p> +<p>This also he dropped into the boiling +water. Then he spoke very quietly to +Tony’s mother, as she bent over her child, +fighting for his breath.</p> +<p>“It’s a bit tough to watch,” he said, +“but we’ll have him all right presently. +Suppose you go and get his crib ready for +him. You might fill some hot-water bags +and bottles and have things warm and +comfortable.”</p> +<p>The telephone-bell rang below. After a +minute Carey dashed upstairs. He looked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +into the room and spoke anxiously. “The +messenger just missed the 9:40. He and +the nurse will come on the 10:15.”</p> +<p>“All right,” said the doctor, as if the +delay were of small consequence. “We’re +going to want your help presently, Carey, +I think. Just ask Mrs. Carey to keep Mrs. +Robeson with her for a few minutes, if she +can.”</p> +<p>Carey went down and gave his wife the +message, then he hurried back and stood +waiting just outside the door. And all at +once the summons came. In a breath the +doctor had changed his rôle. He spoke +sharply:</p> +<p>“<i>Now, Robeson—now, Carey—we’ve +waited up to the limit. Keep cool—hold +him like a rock—</i>”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Wayne Carey came down to his wife, ten +minutes later, smiled tremulously, sank into +a chair, and fell to crying like a baby—softly, +so that he could not be heard.</p> +<p>“But Juliet says he’ll be all right,” +murmured Judith unsteadily.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes——” Carey wiped his eyes +and blew his nose. “I’m just a little unnerved, +that’s all. Lord—and he’s dropped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +off to sleep as quiet as a lamb—with Barnes +holding the gash in his throat open with a +hairpin to let the air in. When it comes +to emergency surgery I tell you it’s a lucky +thing to have an expert in the house. +Completely worn out—the little chap. +When the nurse comes they’ll get out the +whistle and sew the place up. She ought +to be here—I’ll go meet that train.”</p> +<p>He sprang to his feet and hurried out of +the house. Presently he was back, followed +by an erect young woman who wore +a long coat over the uniform she had not +taken time to change. Carey carried the +long black bag she had brought with +her.</p> +<p>By and by Anthony and Roger Barnes +came down. The former was pale, but as +quietly composed as ever; the latter nonchalant, +yet wearing that gleam of satisfaction +in his eye which is ever the badge +of the successful surgeon.</p> +<p>“Well, Mrs. Carey,” said the doctor, +smiling, “why not relax that tension a +bit? The youngster is right as a trivet.”</p> +<p>“I suppose that’s your idea of being +right as a trivet,” Judith retorted. “In +bed, with a trained nurse watching you, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +and a doctor staying all night to make +sure.”</p> +<p>“Bless you—what better would you +have? If it were any other boy the doctor +would have been home and in bed an hour +ago, I assure you. Carey—if you don’t +stop acting like a great fool I’ll put you to +bed too.”</p> +<p>For Carey was wringing Barnes’ hand, +and the tears were running unashamed +down his cheeks. “I gave him that rooster +myself,” he said, and choked.</p> +<p>Upstairs all was quiet. The little life +was safe, rescued at the crucial moment +when interference became necessary, by the +skill and daring which do not hesitate to +use the means at hand when the authorized +tools can not be had. Every precaution +had been taken against harm from these +same unconventional means, and the doctor, +when he left his patient in the hands of +his nurse, felt small anxiety for the ultimate +outcome.</p> +<p>He said this very positively to the boy’s +father and mother, holding a hand of each +and bidding them go peacefully to sleep. +He would have slipped away then, but +they would not let him go. There were no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +tears, no fuss; but Juliet said, her eyes with +their heavy shadows of past suspense +meeting his steadily, “Roger, nothing can +ever tell you what I feel about this,” and +Anthony, gripping his friend’s hand with +a grip of steel, added: “We shall never +thank the Lord enough for having you on +hand, Roger Barnes.”</p> +<p>But when the young surgeon had gone, +warm with pleasure over the service he +had done those he loved this night, the +ones he had left behind found their self-control +had reached the ragged edge. +Turning to her husband Juliet flung herself +into his arms, and met there the +tenderest reception she had ever known. +So does a common anxiety knit hearts +which had thought they could be no +tighter bound.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Judith and Wayne Carey, walking along +silent streets in the early dawn of the day +after Christmas on their way to take their +train home, had little to say. Only once +Judith ventured an observation to her +heavy-eyed companion:</p> +<p>“Surely, such a scene as you went through +last night must diminish a trifle that envy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +you are always possessed with, when you’re +at that house.”</p> +<p>But Wayne, staring up at the wintry +sky, answered, more roughly than his wife +had ever heard him speak: “<i>No</i>—God +knows I envy them even at a time like +this!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIII_TWO_NOT_OF_A_KIND' id='XXIII_TWO_NOT_OF_A_KIND'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +<h2>XXIII.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Two Not of a Kind</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“Yes, they are very pleasant rooms,” +Juliet admitted, with the air of one endeavouring +to be polite. She sat upon a +many-hued divan, and glanced from the +blue-and-yellow wall-paper to the green +velvet chairs, the dull-red carpet and the +stiff “lace” curtains. “You get the afternoon +sun, and the view opposite isn’t bad. +The vestibule seemed to be well kept, and +I rang only three times before I made you +hear.”</p> +<p>“The janitor promised to fix that bell,” +said Judith hastily. “Oh, I know the +colour combinations are dreadful, but one +can’t help that in rented rooms. Of course +our things look badly with the ones that +belong here. But as soon as we can we +are going to move into a still better place.”</p> +<p>“Going to keep house?”</p> +<p>“No-o, not just yet.” Judith hesitated. +“You seem to think there’s nothing in the +world to do but to keep house.”</p> +<p>“I’m sure of it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span></p> +<p>“I can’t see why. A girl doesn’t need +to assume all the cares of life the minute +she marries. Why can’t she keep young +and fresh for a while?”</p> +<p>Juliet glanced toward a mirror opposite. +“How old and haggard I must be looking,” +she observed, with—it must be confessed—a +touch of complacency. The woman who +could have seen that image reflected as her +own without complacency must have been +indifferent, indeed.</p> +<p>“Of course, you manage it somehow—I +suppose because Anthony takes such care +of you. But you wait till five years more +have gone over your head, and see if +you’re not tired of it.”</p> +<p>“If I’m as tired of it as you are—” began +Juliet, and stopped. “But seriously, Judith, +is it nothing to you to please Wayne?”</p> +<p>“Why, of course.” Judith flushed. “But +Wayne is satisfied.”</p> +<p>“Are you sure of it?”</p> +<p>“Certainly. Oh, sometimes, when we +go to see you, and you make things so pleasant +with your big fire and your good things +to eat, he gets a spasm of wishing we were +by ourselves, but——”</p> +<p>Juliet shook her head. “Wayne doesn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +say a word,” she said, “and he’s as devoted +to you as a man can be. But, Judith, if +I know the symptoms, that husband of +yours is starving for a home, and—do I +dare say it?”</p> +<p>Judith was staring out of the window at +the ugly walls opposite. It was her bedroom +window, and the opposite walls were +not six feet away.</p> +<p>“I suppose you dare say anything,” she +answered, looking as if she were about to +cry. “I’m sure I envy you, you’re so +supremely contented. I don’t think I +was made to care for children.”</p> +<p>“That might come,” said Juliet softly. +“I’m sure it would, Judith. As for Wayne, +if you could see the look on his face I’ve +surprised there more than once, when he +had little Anthony, and he thought nobody +noticed, it would make your heart ache, +dear. Don’t deny him—or yourself—the +best thing that can happen to either of you. +At least, don’t deny it for lack of a home. +I’m sure I can’t imagine Tony, Junior, in +these rooms of yours. They don’t look,” +she explained, smiling, “exactly babyish.”</p> +<p>She rose to go. She looked so young and +fair and sweet as she spoke her gentle homily +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +that Judith, half doubting, half believing, +admitted to herself that of one thing there +could be no question: Mrs. Anthony Robeson +envied nobody upon the face of the +earth.</p> +<p>The visits of the Robesons to the various +apartments which were in rotation occupied +by the Careys were few. Somehow it +seemed much easier and simpler for the +pair who had no children, and no housekeeping +to hamper them, to run out into +the suburbs than for their friends to get +into town. So the Careys came with +ever increasing frequency, always warmly +welcomed, and enjoyed the hours within +the little house so thoroughly that in +time the influence of the content they saw +so often began to have its inevitable effect.</p> +<p>“I’ve great news for you,” said Anthony, +coming home one March day, when little +Tony was nearing his second birthday. +“It’s about the Careys. Guess.”</p> +<p>“They are going to housekeeping.”</p> +<p>“How did you know?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know, but Judith told me +weeks ago she supposed she should have to +come to it. Have they found a house?”</p> +<p>“Carey thinks he has. Judith doesn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +like the place, for about fifty good and +sufficient reasons—to her. He’s trying to +persuade her. He has an option on it for +ten days. He wants us to come out and +look at it with them.”</p> +<p>“Where is it?”</p> +<p>“About as far east of the city as we are +north. If to-morrow is a good day I +promised we would run out with them on +the ten-fifteen. I suspect they need us +badly. Wayne looks like a man distracted. +The great trouble, I fancy, is going to be +that Judith Dearborn Carey is still too +much of a Dearborn to be able to make a +home out of anything. And Carey can’t +do it alone.”</p> +<p>“Indeed he can’t, poor fellow. I never +saw a man in my life who wanted a home +as badly as Wayne does. Let’s do our +best to help them.”</p> +<p>“We will. But the only way to do it +thoroughly is to make Judith over. Even +you can’t accomplish that.”</p> +<p>“There’s hope, if she has agreed at all to +trying the experiment,” Juliet declared, +and thought about her friends all the rest +of the day.</p> +<p>It was but five minutes’ walk, from the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +suburban station where the party got off +next morning, to the house which Carey +eagerly pointed out as the four approached.</p> +<p>“There it is,” he said. “Don’t tell me +what you think of it till you’ve seen the +whole thing. I know it doesn’t look +promising as yet, but I keep remembering +the photographs of your home, Robeson, +before you went at it. I’m inclined to +think this can be made right, too.”</p> +<p>Anthony and Juliet studied Carey’s choice +with interest. Judith looked on dubiously. +It was plain that if she should consent it +would be against her will.</p> +<p>“It looks so commonplace and ugly,” +she said aside to Juliet, as the four completed +the tour around the house and prepared +to enter. “Your home is old-fashioned +enough to be interesting, but +this is just modern enough to be ugly. +Look at that big window in front with the +cheap coloured glass across the top. What +could you do with that?”</p> +<p>“Several things,” said her friend promptly. +“You might put in a row of narrow +casement windows across the front, with +diamond panes. No—the porch isn’t attractive +with all that gingerbread work, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +but you could take it away and have +something plain and simple. The general +lines of the house are not bad. It has +been an old-fashioned house, Judith, but +somebody who didn’t know how has altered +it and spoiled it. People are always doing +that. There must have been a fanlight +over this door. You could restore it. +And do you see that quaint round window +in the gable? Probably they looked at +that and longed to do away with it, but +happily for you didn’t know how.”</p> +<p>Carey glanced curiously at his friend’s +wife, then anxiously at his own. Juliet’s +face was alight with interest; Judith’s +heavy with dissatisfaction. He wondered +for the thousandth time what made the +difference. He would have given a year’s +salary to see Judith look interested in this +desire of his heart. It was hard to push +a thing like this against the will of the only +person whose help he could not do without. +Carey was determined to have the home. +Even Judith acknowledged that she had +not been happy in any of the seven apartments +they had tried during the less than +four years of their married life. Carey +believed with all his heart that their only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +chance for happiness lay in getting away +from a manner of living which was using +up every penny he could earn without +giving them either satisfaction or comfort. +His salary would not permit him to rent +the sort of thing in the sort of neighbourhood +which Judith longed for. And if it +should, he did not believe his wife would +find such environments any more congenial +than the present one. Carey had a theory +that a woman, like a man, must be busy to +be contented. He meant to try it with his +handsome, discontented wife.</p> +<p>“Oh, what a pretty hall!” cried Mrs. +Robeson, with enthusiasm. “How lucky +that the vandals who made the house +over didn’t lay their desecrating hands on +that staircase.”</p> +<p>“The hall looks gloomy to me,” said +Mrs. Carey, with a disapproving glance at +the walls.</p> +<p>“Of course—with that dingy brown +paper and the woodwork stained that +hideous imitation of oak. You can scrape +all that off, paint it white, put on a warm, +rich paper, restore your fanlight, and +you’ll have a particularly attractive hall.”</p> +<p>“I wish I could see things that are not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +visible, as you seem to be able to,” sighed +Judith, looking unconvinced. “I never +did like a long, straight staircase like that. +And there’s not room to make a turn.”</p> +<p>“You don’t want to, do you? It’s so +wide and low it doesn’t need to turn, and +the posts and rails are extremely good. +How about this front room?”</p> +<p>She stood in the center of the front room, +and the two men, watching her vivid face +as it glowed above her furs, noting the +capable, womanly way she had of looking +at the best side of everything and discerning +in a flash of imagination and intuition +what could be done with unpromising +material, appreciated her with that full +masculine appreciation which it is so well +worth the trouble of any woman to win.</p> +<p>Judith was not blind; she saw little by +little as Juliet went from room to room—seizing +in each upon its possibilities, ignoring +its poorer features except to suggest +their betterment, giving her whole-hearted, +friendly counsel in a way which continually +took the prospective homemakers into consideration—that +she herself was losing something +immeasurably valuable in not attempting +to cultivate these same winning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +characteristics. And in the same breath +Judith was forced to admit to herself that +she did not know how to begin.</p> +<p>“There is really a very pretty view from +the dining-room,” she said, as a first effort +at seeing something to admire. Both +Juliet and Anthony agreed to this statement +with a cordiality which came very near +suggesting that it was a relief to find Mrs. +Carey on the optimistic side of the discussion +even in this small detail. As for Carey, he +looked so surprised and grateful that +Judith’s heart smote her with a vigour to +which she was unaccustomed.</p> +<p>“I suppose you could use this room as a +sort of den?” she was prompted to suggest +to her husband; and such a delighted smile +illumined Carey’s face that the sight of it +was almost pathetic to his friends, who +understood his situation rather better than +he did himself. In his pleasure Carey put +his arm about his wife’s shoulders.</p> +<p>“Couldn’t I, though?” he agreed enthusiastically. +“And you could use it for a +retreat while I was away for the day.”</p> +<p>“A retreat from what? Too much excitement?” +began Judith, the old habit of +scorn of everything which was not of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +city returning upon her irresistibly. But +it chanced that she caught Juliet’s eyes, +unconsciously wearing such an expression +of solicitude to see her friend complaisant +in this matter which meant so much, that +Judith hurriedly followed her ironic question +with the more kindly supplement: “But +doubtless I should have plenty, and be glad +to get away.”</p> +<p>“You certainly would,” asserted Anthony. +“We never guessed how much +there would be to occupy us in the country, +but there seems hardly time to write letters. +Nobody can believe, till he tries, how much +pleasure there is in wheedling a garden into +growing, nor how well the labour makes him +sleep o’ nights.”</p> +<p>“Yes—I think I could sleep here,” said +Carey, and passed a hand over a brow +which was aching at that very moment. +“I haven’t done that satisfactorily for six +months.”</p> +<p>“You’ll do it here,” Anthony prophesied +confidently. “It’s a fine air with a good +breath of the salt sea in it, which we don’t +get. Your sleeping rooms are all well +aired and lighted—a thing you don’t always +find in more pretentious houses. And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +when the paint and paper go on you’ll own +yourselves surprised at the transformation. +I was never so astonished in my life as I +was at the change in the little bedroom in +our house which has that pale yellow-and-white +stripe on the wall. It was a north +room, and the old wall was a forlorn slate, +like a thundercloud. My little artist here, +with her eye for colours, instantly announced +that she would get the sunshine +into that room. And so she did—with no +more potent a charm than that fifteen-cent +paper and a fresh coat of white paint.”</p> +<p>Carey looked at Juliet with longing in +his eye. He wanted to ask her to supervise +the alterations in his purchase, if he should +make it. But he remembered other occasions +when he had held the sayings and +doings of Mrs. Robeson before the eyes of +Mrs. Carey with disastrous result, and he +dared not make the suggestion. He hoped, +however, that Judith might be inclined to +ask the assistance of her friend, and himself +hinted at it, cautiously. But Judith, beyond +inquiring what Juliet thought of certain +possible changes, seemed inclined to shoulder +her own responsibilities.</p> +<p>Anthony left his wife upon the home-bound +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +train, to return to his work; the +Careys accompanied him, so that he had +no chance to talk things over until he came +home to dinner at night. But when he saw +Juliet again almost her first words showed +him where her thoughts were.</p> +<p>“Tony, I can’t get those people off my +mind. Do you suppose they will ever make +a home out of anything?”</p> +<p>“They haven’t much genius for utilizing +raw material, I’m very much afraid,” +Anthony responded thoughtfully. “Carey +has the will, and he can furnish a moderate +amount of funds, but whether Judith can +furnish anything but objections and contrariety +I don’t dare to predict. If her +heart were in it I should have more hope of +her. There’s one thing I can tell her. If +she doesn’t set her soul to the giving the +old boy a taste of peace and rest she’ll have +him worn out before his time. A fellow who +doesn’t know how it feels to sleep soundly, +and whose head bothers him half the time, +needs looking after. He’s a slave to his +office desk, and needs far more than an +active chap like me to get out of the city as +much as he can.”</p> +<p>“Yes, he’s worried and restless, Tony. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +He’s so devoted to Judith and so anxious to +make her happy, her dissatisfaction rests +on him like a weight. Don’t you see that +every time you see them together?”</p> +<p>“Every time—and more plainly. What’s +the matter with her anyhow, Julie? She +seemed promising enough as a girl. You +certainly found enough in her to make you +two congenial. She’s no more like you +than—electric light is like sunshine,” said +Anthony, picking up the simile with a +laugh and a glance of appreciation.</p> +<p>“Judith shines in the surroundings she +was born and brought up in, misses them, +and doesn’t know how to adapt herself to +any others. She ought to have been the +wife of some high official—she could entertain +royally and have everybody at her +feet.”</p> +<p>“Magnificent characteristics, but mighty +unavailable in the present circumstances. +It carries out my electric-light comparison. +I prefer the sunlight—and I have it.—Poor +Carey!”</p> +<p>“We’ll hope,” said Juliet. “And if we +have the smallest chance to help, we’ll do it.”</p> +<p>But, as Anthony had anticipated, there +was small chance to help. Meeting Carey +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +a fortnight later, Anthony inquired after +the new home, and Carey replied with apparent +lack of enthusiasm that the house +had been leased for a term of three years, +with refusal of the purchase at the expiration +of the time. He explained that Judith +had been unwilling to burn her bridges by +buying the place outright, and that he +thought perhaps the present plan was the +better one—under these conditions. But +the fact that the house was not their own +made it seem unwise to expend very much +upon alterations beyond those of paint and +paper. With the prospect of a sale the +owner had unwillingly consented to replace +the gingerbread porch with one in better +style, but refused to do more. The big +window, with its abominable topping of +cheap coloured glass, was to remain for the +present.</p> +<p>“And I think this whole arrangement is +bound to defeat my purpose,” said Carey +unhappily. “The very changes we can’t +afford to make in a rented house are the +ones Judith needs to have made to reconcile +her to the experiment. She says she +feels ill every time she comes to the house +and sees that window. She wants a porcelain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +sink in the kitchen. She would like +speaking-tubes and a system of electric +bells. We’re to have a servant—if we can +find her. We’ve put green paper on all the +downstairs rooms, and it turns out the +wrong green. I wanted a sort of corn-colour +that looked more cheerful, but it seems +green is the only thing. I don’t know +what’s the matter with me. Perhaps I’m +bilious. Green seems to be all right in +your house, but in mine it makes me want +to go outdoors.”</p> +<p>“That’s precisely what you should do,” +Anthony advised cheerfully. “Get outdoors +all you can. Start your garden. +Mow your lawn yourself. Make over that +gravel path to your front door.”</p> +<p>“I’ve only evenings,” objected Carey. +“And we’re not settled yet. The paper’s +only just on. We haven’t moved. We’re +buying furniture. We bought a sideboard +yesterday. It cost so much we had to get +a cheaper range for the kitchen than +seemed desirable, but Judith liked the sideboard +so well I was glad to buy it. I don’t +know when we shall get to living there +permanently. This furnishing business +knocks me out. We don’t seem to know +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +what we want. I’d like—” he hesitated—“I +hoped Mrs. Robeson might be able to +give us the advantage of her experience, +but it turns out that Judith has a sort of +pride in doing it herself, and of course—I +presume you made some mistakes yourselves, +eh?” He suggested this with eagerness.</p> +<p>“Oh, of course,” agreed Anthony readily, +though he wondered what they were, and +inwardly begged Juliet’s pardon for this +answer, given out of masculine sympathy +with his friend’s helplessness. “You’ll +come out all right,” he hastily assured +Carey. “Once you are living in the new +place things will adjust themselves. Keep +up your courage. Your daily walk to and +from the train will do wonders. Lack of +exercise will make a rainbow look gloomy +to a fellow. I think you’ve great cause for +rejoicing that Judith has agreed to try +the experiment at all. And as with all +experiments, you must be patient while it +works itself out.”</p> +<p>“That’s so,” agreed Carey, a gleam of hope +in his eyes; and Anthony got away. But +by himself the happier man shook his head +doubtfully. “Where everything depends +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +on the woman,” he said to himself, “and +you’ve married one that her Maker never +fashioned for domestic joys, you’re certainly +up against a mighty difficult proposition!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIV_THE_CAREYS_ARE_AT_HOME' id='XXIV_THE_CAREYS_ARE_AT_HOME'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +<h2>XXIV.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Careys Are at Home</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Wayne and Judith Carey had been keeping +house for two months before Judith was +willing to accede to her husband’s often +repeated request that they entertain the +Robesons.</p> +<p>“We’ve been there, together and separately, +till it’s a wonder their hospitality +doesn’t freeze up,” he urged. “Let’s have +them out to-morrow night, and keep them +over till next day, at least. I’d like to +have them sleep under this roof. They’d +bring us good luck.”</p> +<p>“One would think the Robesons were the +only people worth knowing,” said Judith, +with a petulance of which she had the grace, +as her husband stared at her, to be ashamed.</p> +<p>“They’re the truest friends we have in +the world,” he said, with a dignity of +manner unusual with him. “Sometimes I +think they are the only people worth +knowing—out of all those on your calling +list.”</p> +<p>“We differ about that. Your ideas of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +who are worth knowing are very peculiar. +Heaven knows I’m fond of Juliet, but I get +decidedly tired of having her held up as a +model. And I haven’t been anxious to +entertain her until we were in order.”</p> +<p>“We’re certainly as much in order now +as we shall be for some time. Let’s have +them out. You’ll find they’ll see everything +there is to praise. It’s their way.”</p> +<p>So Anthony and Juliet were asked, and +came. Wayne’s prophecy was proven a +true one—even Judith grew complacent as +her friends admired the result of her house-furnishing. +And in truth there was much +to admire. Judith was a young woman +of taste and more or less discretion, and +if she could have had full sway in her +purchasing the result might have been +admirable. As it was, the unspoken criticism +in the minds of both the guests, as +they followed their hosts about the house, +was that Judith had struck a key-note in +her construction of a home a little too ambitious +to be wholly satisfactory.</p> +<p>“I believe in buying the best of everything +as far as you go,” she said, indicating +a particularly costly lounging chair in a +corner of the living-room. “Of course +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +that was very expensive, but it will always +be right, and we can get others to go with +it. The bookcases were another high-priced +purchase, but they give an air to +the room worth paying for.”</p> +<p>“I’ve only one objection to this room,” +said Wayne with some hesitation. “As +Judith says, the things in it seem to be all +right, and it certainly looks in good taste, +if I’m any judge, but—I don’t know just +how to explain it——” he hesitated again, +and smiled deprecatingly at his wife.</p> +<p>“Speak out,” said Judith. She was in a +very good humour, for her guests had shown +so fine a tact in their commendation that +she was in quite a glow of satisfaction, and +for the first time felt the pleasure of the +hostess in an attractive home. “It can’t +be a serious objection, for you’ve liked +every single thing we’ve put into it.”</p> +<p>“Indeed I have,” agreed Carey, eagerly +glancing about the brilliantly lit room. +“I like it all awfully well—especially in the +daylight. The corner by the window is a +famous place for reading. But, you see, I’m +so little here in the daytime, except on +Sundays. Of course I know we lack the +fireplace that makes your living-room +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +jolly, but it seems as if we lack something +besides that we might have, and for the +life of me I can’t tell what it is.”</p> +<p>Anthony knew by a certain curve in the +corner of his wife’s mouth that she longed +to tell him what it was. For himself, he +could not discover. He studied the room +searchingly and was unable to determine +why, attractive as it really was, it certainly +did, upon this cool May evening, lack the +look of warm comfort and hospitality of +which his own home was so full.</p> +<p>“Possibly it’s because everything is so +new,” he ventured. “Rooms come to +have a look of home, you know, just by +living in them and leaving things about. +It’s a pretty room, all right, and I fancy it +will take on the friendly expression you +want when you get to strewing your books +and magazines around a little more, and +laying your pipe down on the corner of the +mantel-piece, you know—and all that. I +can upset things for you in half a minute if +you’ll give me leave.”</p> +<p>“You have my full permission,” said +Judith, laughing. “I fancy it’s just as you +say: Wayne isn’t used to it yet. He always +likes his old slippers better than the handsomest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +new ones I can buy him. Come—dinner +has been served for five minutes. +No more artistic suggestions till afterward.”</p> +<p>The dinner was perfect. It should have +been so, for a caterer was in the kitchen, and +a hired waitress served the viands without +disaster. As a delectable meal it was a +success; as an exhibition of Mrs. Carey’s +capacity for home making, it was something +of a failure. It certainly did not for a +moment deceive the guests. For the life +of her, as Juliet tasted course after course +of the elaborate meal, she could not help +reckoning up what it had cost. Neither +could she refrain from wondering what sort +of a repast Judith would have produced +without help.</p> +<p>After dinner, as Wayne and Anthony +smoked in front of the fireless mantel-piece +in the den, each in a more luxurious +chair than was to be found in Anthony’s +whole house, Judith took Juliet to task.</p> +<p>“You may try to disguise it,” she complained, +“but I’ve known you too long not +to be able to read you. You would rather +have had me cook that dinner myself and +bring it in, all red and blistered from being +over the stove.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span></p> +<p>“As long as the dinner wasn’t red and +blistered you wouldn’t have been unhappy,” +Juliet returned lightly. “But you mustn’t +think that she who entertains may read my +ingenuous face, my dear. It isn’t necessary +that I attempt to convert the world to my +way of thinking. And I haven’t told you +that when Auntie Dingley goes abroad with +father again this winter I’m to have Mary +McKaim for eight whole months. I can +assure you I know how to appreciate the +comfort of having a competent cook in the +kitchen.”</p> +<p>She got up and crossed the room. “Judith, +what an exquisite lamp,” she observed. +“I’d forgotten that you had it. Was it +one of your wedding presents?”</p> +<p>Judith followed her to where she stood +examining an imposing, foreign-looking +lamp, with jeweled inlets in the hand-wrought +metal shade. “Yes,” she said +carelessly, “it’s pretty enough. I don’t +care much for lamps.”</p> +<p>“Not to read by?”</p> +<p>“It’s bright enough for anybody but a +blind man to read, here.” Judith glanced +at the ornate chandelier of electric lights +in the centre of the ceiling. “The rooms +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +aren’t so high that the lights are out of +reach for reading.”</p> +<p>“But this is beautiful. Have you never +used it?”</p> +<p>“It might be used with an electric connection, +I suppose. No, I’ve never used +it as an oil lamp. I hate kerosene oil.”</p> +<p>“But you have some in the house?”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, I think so. Wayne insisted +on getting some little hand-lamps. Something’s +always happening to the wires out +here. That’s one of the numerous joys of +living in the suburbs.”</p> +<p>“Let’s fill this and try it,” Juliet suggested, +turning a pair of very bright eyes +upon her friend. “If you’ve never lit it I +don’t believe you’ve half appreciated it. +You’re neglecting one of the prettiest +sources of decoration you have in the house. +Out of sympathy for the giver, whoever he +was, you ought to let his gift have a chance +to show you its beauty.”</p> +<p>“Stevens Cathcart gave it to us, I believe,” +said Judith. “Here, let me have +it. I’ll fill it, since you insist. But I never +thought very much of it. It was put away +in a closet until we came here. It took up +so much room I never found a place for it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></p> +<p>“Mr. Cathcart gave it to you? That +proves my point, that it’s worth admiring. +If there’s a connoisseur in things of this +sort, it’s he. He probably picked it up in +some out-of-the-ordinary European shop.”</p> +<p>Smiling to herself, as if something gave +her satisfaction, Juliet awaited the return +of her hostess. She understood, from the +manner of Judith’s exit with the lamp, that +the free and easy familiarity with which +guests invaded every portion of Anthony’s +little home, was not to be made a precedent +for the same sort of thing in Judith’s.</p> +<p>The lamp reappeared, accompanied by a +lamentation over the disagreeable qualities +of kerosene oil for any use whatever.</p> +<p>“You can put electricity into this and +use it as a drop-light, if you prefer,” said +Juliet, as she lit it and adjusted the shade. +“May I set it on the big table over here? +Right in the center, please, if you don’t +mind moving that bowl of carnations. +There!—Of course you can send it back to +oblivion over there on the bookcase if you +really don’t like it.—But you do like it—don’t +you?”</p> +<p>“It’s handsomer than I thought it was,” +Judith admitted without enthusiasm. Juliet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +glanced up at the blazing chandelier overhead.</p> +<p>“May I turn off some of this light?” she +asked. “You won’t get the full beauty of +your lamp till you give it a chance by itself.”</p> +<p>Judith assented. Juliet snapped off three +out of the four lights, and smiled mischievously +at her friend. Then she extinguished +the fourth, so that the only luminary +left in the room was the lamp. +Judith groaned.</p> +<p>“Maybe you like a gloomy room like this. +I don’t. Look at it. I can hardly see +anything in the corners.”</p> +<p>“Wait a little bit. You’re so used to the +glare your eyes are not good for seeing what +I mean. Study the lamp itself a minute. +Did you ever see anything so fascinating as +the gleam through those jewels? An electric +bulb inside would add to the brilliancy, +though it’s not so soft a light to read by, +and the effect in the room isn’t so warm. +Observe those carnations under the lamplight, +honey? Come over here to the doorway +and look at your whole room under +these new conditions. Isn’t it charming?—enticing?—Let’s +draw that lovely +Morris chair up close to the table, as if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +you were expecting Wayne to come in +and read the evening paper by the lamp. +<i>There!</i>”</p> +<p>Juliet softly clapped her hands, her face +shining with friendly enthusiasm. There +could be no question that the whole room, +as she had said, had taken on a new look of +homelike comfort and cheer which it had +lacked before. Even Judith was forced to +see it.</p> +<p>“It looks very well,” she admitted. +“But I should have more light from above. +I like plenty of light.”</p> +<p>“So do I, if you manage it well.” Whereupon +the guest, having gained her point +and made sufficient demonstration of it, +turned the conversation into other channels. +But the lamp was not yet through +with its position of reformer. The two men, +having finished their cigars, and hearing +sounds of merriment from the adjoining +room, came strolling in. Anthony, comprehending +at a glance the change which had +come over the aspect of the room and the +cause thereof, advanced, smiling. But +Carey came to a standstill upon the threshold, +his lips drawn into an astonished +whistle. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span></p> +<p>“What’s happened?” he ejaculated, and +stood staring.</p> +<p>“Do you like it?” asked his wife.</p> +<p>“I should say I did. But what’s done +it? What makes the room look so different? +It looks—why it looks like your rooms!” +he cried, gazing at Anthony.</p> +<p>“He can say nothing more flattering than +that,” said Judith, evidently not altogether +pleased. “It’s the highest compliment he +knows.”</p> +<p>Carey stared at the lamp. “I didn’t +know we had that,” he said. “Is it that +that does it?”</p> +<p>“I fancy it is,” said Anthony. “I never +understood it till I was taught, but it seems +to be a fact that a low light in a room gives +it a more homelike effect than a high one. +I don’t know why. It’s one of my wife’s +pet theories.”</p> +<p>“Well, I must say this is a pretty convincing +demonstration of it,” Carey agreed, +sitting down in a chair in a corner, his hands +in his pockets, still studying this, to him, +remarkable transformation. “It certainly +does look like a happy home now. Before, +it was a place to receive calls in.” He +turned, smiling contentedly, to his wife. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +Something about the glance which she +returned warned him that further admiration +was unnecessary. The contented +smile faded a little. He got up and +came over to the table. “Now, let’s have +a good four-handed talk,” he proposed.</p> +<p>Two hours later, in the seclusion of the +guest-room upstairs, Anthony said under +his breath:</p> +<p>“They’re coming on, aren’t they? Don’t +you see glimmerings of hope that some day +this will resemble a home, in a sort of far-off +way? Isn’t Judith becoming domesticated +a trifle? She didn’t get up that +dinner?”</p> +<p>Juliet turned upon him a smiling face, +and laid her finger on her lip. “Don’t +tempt me to discuss it,” she warned him. +“My feelings might run away with me, and +that would never do under their very roof.”</p> +<p>“Exemplary little guest! May I say +as much as this, then? I’d give a good deal +to see Wayne speak his mind once in a way, +without a side glance to see if Her Royal +Majesty approves.”</p> +<p>But Juliet shook her head. “Don’t +tempt me,” she begged again. “There’s +something inside of me that boils and boils +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +with rage, and if I should just take the cover +off——”</p> +<p>“Might I get scalded? All right—I’ll +leave the cover on. Just one observation +more. When I get inside our own four +walls again I’m going to give a tremendous +whoop of joy and satisfaction that’ll raise +the roof right off the house!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXV_THE_ROBESON_WILL' id='XXV_THE_ROBESON_WILL'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +<h2>XXV.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Robeson Will</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>When people are busy and happy the +years may go by like a dream. So the +months rolled around and brought little +Tony past the third anniversary of his +birth, and into another summer of lusty +development. Except to the growing child, +however, time seemed to bring slight +changes to the little home under whose +roof he grew. The mistress thereof lost no +charm either for her husband or her friends—Anthony +indeed insisted that she grew +younger; certainly, as time taught her new +lessons without laying hands upon her +beauty, she gained attractiveness in every +way.</p> +<p>“You look as much like a girl as ever,” +Anthony said to her one morning, as dressed +for a trip into town she came out upon the +porch where he and little Tony were frolicing +together.</p> +<p>“You had ever a sweetly blarneying +tongue,” said she, and bestowed a parting +caress impartially upon both the persons +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +before her. “I feel a bit guilty at making +a nursemaid of you for even one morning of +your vacation, but——”</p> +<p>“That’s all right. Do your errands with +an easy conscience. I’ll enjoy looking after +the boy, and am rather glad your usual +little maid is away. That’s one thing my +vacation is for—to get upon a basis of +mutual understanding and confidence with +my son. We see too little of each other.”</p> +<p>So Juliet caught the early car, and left +the two male Robesons together, father and +son, waving good-bye to her from the +porch. When she was out of sight the +elder Robeson turned to the younger.</p> +<p>“Now, son,” he said, “I’m going to mow +the lawn. What are you going to do?”</p> +<p>“I is going to mow lawn, too,” announced +Tony, Junior, with decision.</p> +<p>“All right, sir. Here we are. Get in +front of me and mind you push hard. +That’s the stuff!”</p> +<p>All went joyously for ten minutes. Then +little Tony wriggled out from between his +father’s arms and went over to the porch +step. He sat down and crossed two fat +legs. He leaned his head upon his hand, +his elbow on his knee, and watched with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +serious eyes the progress of the lawn-mower +three times across before he said wistfully:</p> +<p>“Favver, I wis’ you’d p’ay wiv me.”</p> +<p>“When I get this job done perhaps I +will,” said Anthony, and made the grass +fly merrily. Presently he put away the +lawn-mower, and stood looking down at +the sturdy little figure in the blue Russian +blouse. “What do you want to play?” +he asked. Tony’s face lit up.</p> +<p>“Le’s play fire-endjun,” he proposed +enthusiastically.</p> +<p>“Where shall we play the fire is?”</p> +<p>“Le’s have weal fire,” said Tony eagerly.</p> +<p>“Real fire? Well, I don’t know about +that, son,” his father responded doubtfully. +“Young persons of three are not considered +old enough to play with the real thing. +Won’t make believe do just as well?”</p> +<p>“No, no—weal fire,” repeated the child. +“Le’s put it out wiv sqi’yt watto. P’ease, +favver—p’ease!”</p> +<p>“Sqi’wt watto,” repeated Anthony, +laughing. “What do you mean by——? +Oh, I see——” as Tony demonstrated his +meaning by running to the garden hose +which remained attached to a hydrant +behind the house. “Well, son—if I let +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +you have a real fire and put it out with +real water, will you promise me never to try +anything of that sort by yourself?”</p> +<p>Tony walked over to his father and laid +a little brown fist in Anthony’s. “Aw +wight,” he said solemnly. Anthony looked +down at the clasped hands and smiled at +the serious uplifted face. “Is that the +way mother teaches you to promise her?” +he asked, with interest.</p> +<p>Tony nodded. “Aw wight,” he said. +“Come on. Le’s make fire!”</p> +<p>The fire was made, out of a packing-box +brought up from the cellar. It burned +realistically down by the orchard, and was +only discovered by chance when Anthony +Robeson, Junior, happened to glance that +way.</p> +<p>“<i>Fire!—fire!</i>” he shouted, and alarmed +the fire company, who, as fire companies +should be, were ready to start on the instant. +The hose-cart, propelled by a pair of stout +legs, made a gallant dash down the edge +of the garden, followed by the hook-and-ladder +company, their equipment just three +feet long. It took energetic and skilful +work to quench the conflagration, which +raged furiously and made plenty of good +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +black smoke. The fire chief rushed dramatically +about, ordering his men with ringing +commands. Once he stubbed his bare toe +and fell, and for a moment it looked as +though he must cry, but like the brave +fellow that he was he smothered his pain +behind an uplifted elbow, and in a moment +was again in the thick of the fray. His +men obeyed him with admirable promptitude, +although, contrary to the usual +custom of fire chiefs, he himself took hold +of the hose and poured its volume upon the +blazing structure.</p> +<p>When the fire was out the chief, breathless, +his blue blouse bearing the marks of +the encounter with flood and flame, sat +down upon the overturned hose-cart and +beamed upon his company.</p> +<p>“Vat was awful nice fire,” he said. +“Le’s have anuver.”</p> +<p>“Another? Oh, no,” protested the company, +hastily. “No more of that just now. +Pick up your hook-and-ladder wagon and +put it back where it belongs. I’ll see to the +hose.”</p> +<p>Anthony gently displaced the fire chief +and rolled away the hose. Then he looked +back down the garden and saw his son +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +poking among the ruins of the fire. “Come +here, Tony,” he called, “and bring the +hook-and-ladder.”</p> +<p>Tony came slowly, but without the toy +wagon. Anthony stood still. When the +boy reached him he said, “Why didn’t +you bring the hook-and-ladder cart?”</p> +<p>“’Cause I’m ve chief,” Tony responded +gravely. “My mens’ll bring ve cart.”</p> +<p>“Your men aren’t there. You’ll have +to bring it yourself.”</p> +<p>Tony shook his head. “I’m ve chief,” he +repeated, and looked his father in the eye. +Anthony understood. It was not the first +time. There were moments in one’s experience +with Anthony Robeson, Junior, +when one seemed to encounter a deadlock +in the child’s will. Reasoning and commands +were apt at such times to be alike +futile. The odd thing about it was that it +was impossible to predict when these +moments were at hand. They arose without +warning, when the boy was apparently +in the best of tempers, and they did not +seem to be the result of any previous +mismanagement on the part of those in +authority over him.</p> +<p>Of one point Anthony, Senior, was sure. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +The child, like all children, and possibly +more than most, possessed a vivid imagination. +When he announced himself to be +a fire chief, there could be no question that +he believed himself to be for the time that +which he pretended to be. His father +understood, therefore, that to make progress +with the boy it was necessary to get back to +the standpoint of reality before commands +could be expected to take hold. So he sat +down on a rustic seat near Juliet’s roses +and spoke in a pleasantly matter-of-fact +way.</p> +<p>“Yes, you’ve been a fire chief, son, +and a good one. That was a great game. +But the game is over now, and you’re not a +fire chief any more. You’re Tony Robeson, +and the little hook-and-ladder cart is your +plaything. Father wants you to bring it +here and put it in its place in the house. +It looks a little bit like rain, and the +cart mustn’t be left out to get wet. +See?”</p> +<p>But Tony still shook his head. “My +men’ll put it in,” he said, with calmness +undisturbed.</p> +<p>“You haven’t any men. You played +there were some, but the play is over and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +there aren’t any men. If you don’t put +the cart in it may get wet.”</p> +<p>“I’m ve chief,” said little Tony. “Chiefs +don’t draw carts.”</p> +<p>“When they’ve turned back to little boys +they do. You’ve turned back to a little +boy.”</p> +<p>“No, I hasn’t,” said Tony, and his eyes +met his father’s unflinchingly. “I’s going +to be a chief all ve time.”</p> +<p>The argument seemed unanswerable. +Anthony considered swiftly what to do. +He studied the grave brown eyes an instant +in silence, their beauty and the inflexibility +in their depths appealing to him with equal +force. He loved the tough little will. +He recognised it as his own—the same +powerful quality which had brought him +thus far on the road to fortune after being +landed at the furthermost end from the +goal. He would not for worlds deal with +his son’s will in any but the way which +should seem to him wisest.</p> +<p>He rose from his seat. He spoke quietly +but with force. “Very well,” he said. +“If you’re still a fire chief, of course you’re +too big to play. I’m much obliged to you +for putting out my fire. But now that it’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +out I don’t want your hook-and-ladder in +my garden any longer. When your men +take it away I shall be glad. But of course +we can’t play any more till you stop being +a fire chief and the hook-and-ladder is back +in its corner in the nursery. Good-bye. +When you are ready to be Tony Robeson +again, you’ll find me in my den.”</p> +<p>He smiled at his son and walked away. +Tony watched him go. Tony’s hands were +clasped behind his back, his legs planted +wide apart.</p> +<p>Anthony, Senior, found it difficult to remain +in the den. He was obliged to keep +track of a small figure in a blue blouse +from whichever of the various windows +commanded the doings of that young +person. He perceived that the fire chief +was still holding dominion over the scene.</p> +<p>At the end of an hour small footsteps +were heard approaching. Anthony looked +up from the letter he was attempting to +write. “Favver, may I have a bread and +butter?” asked a pleasant voice. Anthony +turned about in his chair.</p> +<p>“Is the hook-and-ladder in the nursery?” +he inquired gravely.</p> +<p>Tony shook his head. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></p> +<p>“Oh, then you are still the fire chief. +Fire chiefs go to the hotel for their bread +and butter. I haven’t any bread and +butter for the fire chief.”</p> +<p>He turned back to his desk. The small +figure in the doorway stood still a moment, +then the footsteps were heard retreating. +Five minutes later, Anthony, looking out, +saw Tony careering about the garden on a +hobby-horse.</p> +<p>“Obstinate little duffer,” he said affectionately +to himself. “He’s playing go to +the hotel, I suppose. Perhaps when that +imagination of his gets to work at hypothetical +bread and butter he’ll find the +reality preferable to the fancy.”</p> +<p>In a short time Anthony again reconnoitred. +The garden was empty. He +looked out at the front of the house. No +small figure in blue was to be seen. He +went out and took a turn about the place. +He called the boy; there was no response. +From past experience and from the statements +of Juliet and the young girls of the +neighbourhood, whom, at various times, +she was in the habit of engaging to assist +her in the oversight of the child at his +play, he knew that Tony had a trick of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +getting himself out of sight in an incredibly +brief space of time.</p> +<p>“As a fire chief he may consider himself +free to do what he pleases,” said Anthony +to himself, and set about a thorough +search of the place, having no doubt that +at any moment he should come upon the +boy carrying out the details of his imaginary +vocation. After a time he went back into +the house and scoured it from top to bottom. +And when, even here, there was to be discovered +no trace of the child, he began to +feel a slight uneasiness.</p> +<p>There was no source of immediate danger +to a stray child in the neighbourhood, of +which he was aware, except the electric +line, and little Tony had never manifested +the slightest inclination to approach this by +himself. There were no open ponds, no +traps of any kind for the incautious feet of +a three-year-old. Everybody knew Tony, +and everybody admired and loved him, so +that, as Anthony took up his hat and +started upon a more extended search, he +had no doubt whatever of finding the runaway +without delay.</p> +<p>In a very short time it became a rousing +of the neighbourhood. It was Saturday, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +and all the children who knew Tony were +at hand. They were soon eagerly searching +for him near and far, without finding the +slightest trace of his passing. Anthony, now +thoroughly alarmed, telephoned in every +direction, warned every police station in the +city, and took every possible step for the +discovery of the child. It occurred to him +with tremendous force that the boy might +have been stolen. Such things did happen. +It seemed almost the only way to account +for such a sudden and mysterious disappearance.</p> +<p>Before it seemed possible two hours had +slipped past. And now, on every car +which whirled by the corner, Anthony +began to expect Juliet. He dreaded yet +longed to see her. He turned cold at the +thought of telling her the situation, yet at +the same time he felt as if she might have +some sort of a solution ready which nobody +else had thought of. And while, still +searching over and over the entire ground, +he kept watch of the arriving cars, he saw +his wife suddenly appear. He went to +meet her.</p> +<p>“What is it?” she said, the instant her +eye met his. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></p> +<p>“I think it’s all right, dear,” he told her, +as quietly as he could, “but somehow we +can’t find Tony. He disappeared during +five minutes when I was in the house—too +short a time for him to have got very far +away, but—we can’t find him. Do you +think he may be hiding? Does he ever +hide himself so effectually as that?”</p> +<p>The bright colour in her face had slipped +out of it on the instant, for he could not +keep the anxiety out of his voice. But +she said no word of reproach, nor did she +lose command of herself in any way.</p> +<p>“How long has he been gone?” she asked, +going straight toward the house, Anthony +close behind her.</p> +<p>“I think—I am afraid—nearly two hours. +I will tell you what happened. It is possible +something I said is responsible for all +this, though I don’t know.”</p> +<p>She was going swiftly about the house, +as he told her the story of his attempt to +teach the boy a lesson, and she was listening +closely to every word as she examined for +herself each nook and corner. She disclosed +several possible hiding places of which +Anthony had not thought, explaining that +Tony knew them all and sometimes betook +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +himself to them in the course of various +games. The two came out upon the porch, +and Juliet stood still, thinking.</p> +<p>“You have done everything to intercept +him, if he should really have—got far +away?”</p> +<p>“Everything I can think of, except start +out myself. I am ready to do that, if you +think best.”</p> +<p>“Not until I have gone over the neighbourhood +myself. I don’t believe he is far +away—I believe he is near. He may have +heard every call you and the children +have made, and wouldn’t answer. If by +any chance his pride has been a little hurt, +he is very likely to do this sort of thing. +Wait—have you looked—I wonder if the +children know——”</p> +<p>She was off without stopping to explain, +through the garden and down the old +willow-bordered path by the brook. Anthony +followed. “I’ve been down here a +dozen times,” he called. “The brook is too +shallow to hurt him, and he’s certainly not +anywhere on it within a mile. The children +have been all over the ground.”</p> +<p>But Juliet did not pause. She ran along +the path for some distance, then turned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +abruptly at a point where an abandoned lot +filled with stumps joined the area by the +brook. She made her swift way among +these stumps, Anthony following, his hope +rising as he noted the directness of his +wife’s aim. At the biggest stump she +came to a standstill, carefully swung out-ward +like a door a great slab of bark, and +disclosed a hollow. The sunlight streamed +in upon a little heap of blue, and a tangled +brown mass of hair. Anthony Robeson, +Junior, lay fast asleep in his cunningly +devised retreat.</p> +<p>Without a word his father stood looking +down at the boy’s flushed cheeks. Then +he turned to Juliet, standing beside him, +smiling through the tears which had not +come until the anxiety was past. His own +eyes were wet.</p> +<p>“That was a bad scare,” he said softly. +“Thank God it’s over.”</p> +<p>Then he stooped and gently lifted the +fire chief and carried him home without +waking him. Twenty children flocked joyfully +from all about to see, and hushed +their shouts of congratulation at Juliet’s +smiling warning.</p> +<p>Anthony went alone down the garden +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +to the place where the hook-and-ladder +cart had stood. It was still there. He +stood and looked at it, his eyes very tender +but his lips firm. “The little chap didn’t +give in,” he said to himself. “It’s going +to be hard to make him, but for the sake +of the Robeson will I think we’ll have to +take up the job where we left it. I’d +mightily like to flunk the whole business +now, but I should be a pretty weak sort of +a beggar if I did.”</p> +<p>When little Tony had wakened from his +nap, and had been washed and brushed +and fed, and made fresh in a clean frock, +his mother brought him to his father.</p> +<p>“Is this Tony Robeson?” Anthony asked +soberly. Tony considered for a moment, +then shook his head.</p> +<p>“I’s ve fire chief,” he said, with polite +stubbornness.</p> +<p>“Have your men put away the hook-and-ladder +cart?”</p> +<p>“No, favver.”</p> +<p>“Are they going to do it?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t tell vem to.”</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“Didn’t want to.”</p> +<p>“Listen, son,” said Anthony. “I could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +make the fire chief put away the cart. +I’m stronger than he is, you know. I +could make him walk out to where it lies +in the garden, and I could make his hands +pick it up and carry it into the house, and +then it would be done.—Don’t you think +I could?”</p> +<p>Tony considered. “Es, I fink ’ou could,” +he admitted. Evidently the question was +one he could reflect upon from the standpoint +of the outsider.</p> +<p>“But I don’t want to do that. I want +Tony Robeson to put the cart away +because his father asks him to do it. Don’t +you think he ought to do that?”</p> +<p>“I isn’t Tony Robeson, I’se ve fire +chief.”</p> +<p>“Were you the fire chief when you woke +up, and mother washed you and dressed +you and gave you your lunch? I don’t +think she thought you were. If you had +been the fire chief she would have left you +to take care of yourself.”</p> +<p>Tony thought about it. “I dess I’se +Tony wiv muvver,” he said.</p> +<p>“Then you aren’t Tony with me?”</p> +<p>The thick locks shook vehemently in the +sir with the negative response. “I said I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +was ve fire chief, and I’se got to <i>be</i> ve +fire chief,” he reiterated.</p> +<p>Without question it was a battle of +wills. But Anthony’s mind was made up. +For lack of time to deal with them previous +similar issues had been dodged in various +ways, compromises had been effected. It +was plain that argument and reasoning, +the wiles of the affectionately wise adversary +who does not want to bring the matter +to a direct conflict, had been tried. Anthony +could see no way out except to +dominate the child by the force of his own +resolute character. It was not the way +by which he wanted to obtain the mastery, +but it was becoming plain to him that, in +this case, at least, it was the only way left.</p> +<p>His face grew stern all at once, his eyes, +though still kind, met his son’s with determination. +“Tony,” he said very gravely—and +there was a new quality in his tone to +which the child was not accustomed—“You +are not the fire chief now. You +are Tony Robeson. <i>I shall not let you be +the fire chief any longer.</i> Do you understand?”</p> +<p>There was no threat in the words, only +a decisiveness of the sort before which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +men give way, because they see that +there is no alternative. Tony stared into +his father’s eyes curiously. His own grew +big with wonder, with something which +was not alarm, but akin to it. He gazed +and gazed, as if fascinated. Anthony’s +look held his; the man’s powerful eyes +did not flinch—neither did the boy’s. It +is possible that both pulses quickened a +beat.</p> +<p>Little Tony drew his eyes away at last, +turned and started for the door. Silently +Anthony watched him as he reached for the +knob, turned again, and looked back at his +father. On the very threshold the child +stood still and stared back. His brown +eyes filled, his red lips quivered. The stern +face which watched his melted into a winning +smile, and Anthony held out his arms. +An instant longer, and his son had run +across the floor and flung himself into +them.</p> +<p>When the childish storm of tears had +quieted, and several big hugs had been +exchanged, Anthony set the boy down upon +the floor and took his hand. Silently the +two walked out of the house and down the +garden. The hook-and-ladder cart stood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +patiently waiting, just where it had waited +all day. Little Tony ran to it and picked +it up. Over his exquisite face broke the +first smile that had been seen there since +the earliest disregarded command of the +morning.</p> +<p>“Ve fire chief’s gone,” he said. “He +was a bad fire chief.”</p> +<p>So together the man and the boy escorted +the hook-and-ladder cart to the nursery, +and backed it carefully into its stall, between +the milk wagon and the automobile. +Then the child went to his play. But the +man drew a long breath.</p> +<p>“I would rather manage a hundred +striking workmen,” he said to himself with +emphasis.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVI_ON_GUARD' id='XXVI_ON_GUARD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +<h2>XXVI.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>On Guard</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>While little Tony had been growing, +waxing strong and sturdy: while Juliet had +been tending and training him, learning, +as every mother does, more than she could +impart: Anthony, in his place, had not +stood still. The strength and determination +he had from the first hour put into +his daily work had begun to tell. His +position in a great mercantile establishment +had steadily advanced as he had +made himself more and more indispensable +to its heads.</p> +<p>Cathcart, the successful architect, began +to talk about a new home for the man into +whose hands Henderson and Henderson +were putting large interests to manage +for them, and whose salary, he asserted, +must now justify, indeed call for, life under +more ideal surroundings than the little home +in the unfashionable suburb which poverty +had at first made necessary.</p> +<p>“Let me draw some plans for you,” +urged Cathcart, one evening in June, when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +he had run out to see his friend. Juliet +was by chance away, and Cathcart took +advantage of this to call Anthony’s attention, +in a politely frank fashion, to +the shortcomings of his present residence. +“It’s all right in its way,” he said, standing +upon a corner of the lawn with Anthony, +and surveying the house critically. +“Mrs. Robeson certainly deserves full +credit for the admirable way in which +she restored the old house and added +just the changes in keeping with its possibilities. +I’ve always said it couldn’t have +been better done, with the means you’ve +told me you were able to put at her disposal. +But the place is too small for you +now.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think we feel it so,” said Anthony +tentatively, strolling beside Cathcart +along the edge of the lawn, his hands in his +pockets, lifting friendly eyes at the little +house. “Since we put in the bathroom—that +small room off the upper hall, you +know—and added the nursery and den, +we’re very comfortable. The furnace keeps +us warm as toast, and we’re soon to have +the water system out here, so we won’t +have to depend upon our present expedients. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +I’m fond of the place, and I’m confident +Mrs. Robeson is devoted to it.”</p> +<p>“I can understand that,” agreed Cathcart. +“Of course, the spot where you +began life together will always have its +charm for you both—in fact the sentiment +of the matter may blind you to the real +inadequacies of the place for a man in your +position.”</p> +<p>“My position isn’t so stable that I want +to build a marble palace on it yet,” said +Anthony, a humorous twinkle in his eye. +He enjoyed watching another man manœuvre +for his favourable hearing of a +scheme. It was an art in which he was +himself accomplished; it was one of the +points of his value to Henderson and +Henderson.</p> +<p>“Everybody knows that you’re in a fair +way to become head man with the Hendersons,” +said Cathcart, “and everybody also +knows that you might as well have struck +a gold-mine. It’s superb, the way you +have come into the confidence of those +old conservatives.”</p> +<p>“That’s all well enough; but I don’t see +that it entails upon me the duty of laying +out all I’ve saved on a new house. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +know what you fellows are—when you begin +to draw plans your love of the ideal runs +away with the other man’s pocketbook.”</p> +<p>“Not at all,” declared Cathcart. “Particularly +when he’s a friend and you understand +just what he can afford to do.”</p> +<p>“Why don’t you talk about enlarging the +old house? That’s much more likely to +appeal to my desires.”</p> +<p>The two had reached the back of the +house and were close by the kitchen windows. +Cathcart reached up and took hold +of a sill. With a strong hand he wrenched +and pounded about the window, until he +succeeded in showing that it was old and +uncertain.</p> +<p>“That’s why,” he said, dusting his hand +with his handkerchief. “The house is old—fairly +rotten in places. The minute you +began to enlarge it in any ambitious way +you’d find it would be cheaper to tear +it down and begin again. But the site, +Robeson—the site isn’t desirable. The +place is respectable enough, but it has no +future. The good building is all going +south, not north, of the city. You don’t +want to spend a lot of money here—you +couldn’t sell out except at a loss.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></p> +<p>“Your arguments are good, very good,” +admitted Anthony; “so good that I’d like +to put you on your mettle to draw me a set +of plans for just the sort of thing you think +I ought to have—or Mrs. Robeson ought +to have, for she’s the one to be considered. +Anything will do for me. I’ll let you do +this—on one condition.”</p> +<p>“Name it.”</p> +<p>“That you also do your level best to +demonstrate to me what a clever man and +an artist of your proportions could make +out of this house, provided he really wanted +to show the extent of his ability. Now, +that’s fair. If you really care to convince +me you won’t fool with this proposition, +you’ll make a study of the one problem as +thoroughly as you do of the other, and let +me decide the case on its merits. If I +thought you weren’t giving the old house +a fair chance I should take up its cause out +of pure affection.”</p> +<p>He smiled at Cathcart’s discontented face +with so brilliant a good humour that the +architect cleared up.</p> +<p>“By Jove, Robeson,” he said, “I think +I see what endears you to the Hendersons. +I wouldn’t have said you could have induced +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +me to try my hand at the old house, +but I’ll be hanged if I don’t follow your +instructions to the letter—and win out, +too.”</p> +<p>“Good,” said Anthony. “And don’t +mention it to my wife. We’ll keep it for +a surprise; and I promise you when the +time comes I won’t prejudice her in any +way.”</p> +<p>Cathcart drew out a notebook and pencil +and entered some memoranda on the spot, +while Anthony, coming up on the piazza of +the dining-room, laid upon the old Dutch +house-door a hand which seemed to caress +it. He was wondering if by any possible +magic Cathcart could create, in the rarest +abode in the world, a new door which he +should ever care to enter as he now cared +to enter this.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“I think,” said Juliet decidedly, “you’re +wrong about it.”</p> +<p>“And I know,” returned Anthony with +emphasis, “that you are.”</p> +<p>The two faced each other. They were +walking through a short stretch of woodland, +which lay as yet untouched by the +hand of suburban property owners. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +was a favourite ground for the diversions +of the Robesons, when they had not +time to spend in getting farther away. +They had been strolling through it now, +in the early June evening, discussing a +matter relative to the investment of a +certain moderate sum of money which +had come into Anthony’s hands. It developed +that their ideas about it differed +radically.</p> +<p>“It’s not safe to do as you propose,” said +Juliet.</p> +<p>“To do what you propose would be only +one better than tying it up in an old stocking—or +putting it away in the coffee pot. +It’s essentially a woman’s plan—no man +would do it the honour of considering it a +moment.”</p> +<p>Juliet flushed brilliantly. Even in Anthony’s +cheek the colour rose a little. Their +eyes met with a challenge.</p> +<p>“Very well,” said Juliet proudly. “I’ll +offer no more woman’s plans. Invest the +money as you like. Then, when you’ve +lost it——”</p> +<p>Anthony’s eyes flashed. “When I’ve +lost it——” he began, and turned away +with a gesture of impatience. Then he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +stopped short. “That isn’t like you,” he +said.</p> +<p>Juliet stared at him an instant. Then +she shut her lips together and walked on in +silence. Anthony shut his lips together +also. It was not their habit to indulge in +sharp altercation. While both had decided +ideas about things, both were also much +too well bred to be willing to allow differences +of opinion—which must arise as +inevitably as two human beings live under +the same roof—to degenerate into the +deplorable thing commonly referred to as +a quarrel.</p> +<p>When they had proceeded a few rods +Juliet turned abruptly off from the path +and picked up from the ground a slender +straight stick, evidently cut and trimmed +by some boy and then thrown aside. She +looked about her and after some search +found another, of similar size, untrimmed. +She held out the latter to Anthony. He +accepted it with a look of surprise. Then +she walked into the path in front of him, +stood stiff and straight, her small heels +together, and made him the fencer’s salute. +“<i>On guard!</i>” she cried.</p> +<p>His lips relaxing, Anthony grasped his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +stick and fell into position. A moment +more and two accomplished fencers were +engaged in close combat.</p> +<p>Juliet happened to be wearing a trim +linen skirt of short walking length, which +impeded her movements as slightly as anything +not strictly adapted to the exercise +could do. Although her fencing lessons +were some years past, the paraphernalia +belonging both to herself and Anthony +were in the house, and an occasional bout +with the masks and foils was a means of exercise +and diversion which both thoroughly +enjoyed. Although Juliet was no match +for the superior skill and endurance of her +husband, she was nevertheless no mean +antagonist, and her alertness of eye and +hand usually gave him sufficient to do to +make the encounter a stimulating one.</p> +<p>On the present occasion Anthony, challenged +to combat with his coat and cuffs on, +and wielding the more awkward weapon +of the two impromptu foils, found himself +distinctly at a disadvantage. Moreover, +he was at the moment not precisely in the +mood for fun, and he began to defend himself +with a somewhat lazy indifference. +After a minute or two, however, he discovered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +that his adversary’s slightly ruffled +temper was inspiring her hand and wrist +to distinctly effective work, and he found +himself forced to look to his methods.</p> +<p>Attack and parade, disengagement and +thrust—the battle was waged over the uneven +ground of the wood. And presently +Anthony discovered that the richly glowing +face opposite his was a smiling one. The +absurdity of the match struck him irresistibly +and he smiled in return. He +tripped a little over an obtruding oak-root, +and Juliet took advantage of her opportunity +to press him hard. He fended off the +attack and himself assumed the aggressive. +An instant more and he had disarmed +her and had thrown his own stick flying +after hers. Both were laughing heartily +enough.</p> +<p>“Forgive the trick,” cried Anthony. “A +man must disarm his wife when she becomes +his enemy.”</p> +<p>Breathless, Juliet sank upon a small +knoll, her hand at her side. “If I’d been +dressed for it—” she panted.</p> +<p>“You need coaching on your time thrusts, +but you gave me plenty to do as it was,” +Anthony admitted. “More than that, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +you’ve presented me with a chance to recover +my equilibrium. I was hot inside +before. Now it’s all on the outside.”</p> +<p>He looked down at her affectionately. +She smiled back. “I was crosser than +sticks,” she said. “I really can’t imagine +why, now. I apologise.”</p> +<p>“So do I.” He threw himself down on +the ground at her feet, lay flat on his back, +his clasped hands behind his head, and +gazed up into the tree-tops.</p> +<p>“I’ll take your advice into careful consideration,” +said he.</p> +<p>“I know you won’t do anything rash,” +said she, and they both laughed again.</p> +<p>“How much more diplomatic that sort +of talk is,” he observed. “Why do we +ever allow ourselves to use any other?”</p> +<p>“Because we are human, I suppose.” +Juliet was putting a mass of waving brown +hair, disordered by the fight, into shape +again. “It isn’t nice. We don’t do it +often. To-night you came home tired, and +found a wife who had been entertaining +people from town all the afternoon. But +it’s all right now, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>She bent forward, and Anthony took +her outstretched hand in his own and gave +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +it a grip which made it sting. He began +to whistle cheerfully.</p> +<p>“Should we be happier if we never disagreed?” +she asked thoughtfully.</p> +<p>The whistle stopped. “Jupiter, no! I +want a thinking being to talk things over +with, not a mental pincushion.”</p> +<p>“Thank you.—Isn’t it lovely here?”</p> +<p>“Delightful.—Julie, do you know we’ll +have been married five years next September?”</p> +<p>“It doesn’t seem possible.”</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t know it, to look at you,” +he observed. He rolled upon his left side +and regarded her from under intent brows. +“You haven’t grown a day older.”</p> +<p>“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”</p> +<p>“It’s meant for one. Do you know you’re +a beauty?”</p> +<p>“I never was one and never shall be,” +she answered laughing, but she could not +object to the obvious sincerity of his +opinion as he delivered it.</p> +<p>“You’re near enough to satisfy me. +I’d rather have your good looks than all +the—Well, I sat in front of a newly married +pair on the way home to-night—that +fellow Scrivener and his bride. <i>She’s</i> what +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +people call a raving beauty, I suppose. I +wouldn’t have her in the house at a dollar +an hour. She’s a whiner. Had him doing +something to satisfy her whim every +minute. I heard him trying to tell her +about something that interested him, but +she couldn’t take time from herself to +listen. His voice had a note of fatigue in +it, already, or I’m not Robeson. I tell you, +Juliet—that’s the sort of thing that makes +a bachelor vow to stay single, and he can’t +be blamed.”</p> +<p>“Suppose a bachelor had overheard us +half an hour ago?”</p> +<p>“I’m glad none did—but if he had it +wouldn’t have disgusted him the way the +other sort of thing did me to-day. A +brisk little altercation is nothing, with unlimited +hours of friendliness and understanding +before and after. But a perpetual +drizzle of fault finding and exactions—would +make a fellow go hang himself. Mrs. +Robeson, do you know, you’re a very +exceptional young person?”</p> +<p>“In what way, sir?”</p> +<p>“Whatever you do, you never nag. I’ve +an awful suspicion that Judith Carey +nags. You know how to let a man alone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +when he’s in the mood for being alone. She +never does. Carey had me out there not +long ago, for what he called a quiet, confidential +talk on some business matters. +We went into what is supposed to be his +private room and shut the door. Probably +she came to that door not less than twelve +times during that two hours. She called +Carey away on every sort of pretext. +Once she got him to do a stroke of work for +her that took up at least ten minutes +neither of us could spare. And she looked +like a thundercloud every time I caught a +glimpse of her face. Cæsar!—think of +having to live with that sort of person. No +wonder Carey looks old before his time.”</p> +<p>“It’s certainly unfortunate. But I’m +not an exception, Tony. There are plenty +of women who know when to keep out of +the way.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, they’re erratic on some other +line, that’s all. You’re absolutely the only +thoroughly sweet and sane woman I know.”</p> +<p>“My dear boy! Remember how snappish +I was just this evening.”</p> +<p>“I was grouchy enough to match it. I +tell you, Julie—the women who don’t talk +you to death on every subject, important +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +or trivial, bore you with idiotic questions or +impertinence about your affairs. How do +I know so much about ’em? My dear, +dozens of them come into the office every +day, and Mr. Henderson has acquired a +habit lately of turning them all over to me. +I earn a double salary every hour I spend +that way—wish I could put in a demand +for it. Speaking of salaries, dear”—Anthony +suddenly sat up—“I’ve no right to +be grouchy, for I’m promised another +advance next month.”</p> +<p>“Splendid!” She put out her hand, and +the two shook hands vigorously again, like +the pair of comrades they were.</p> +<p>“Juliet,” said her husband, watching her +face closely. “It’s been a happy five years, +hasn’t it?”</p> +<p>“A happy five years, Tony.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean it?” He smiled at her. +“You’ve never been sorry?” Then he got +to his feet and held out his hand again to +help her up. “The mortal combat we +engaged in gave you a magnificent colour,” +he commented, and passed affectionate fingers +across the smooth cheek near his +shoulder. “Sweetheart——” he drew her +into his arms—“I may fence with you once +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +in a while with sharp words for weapons, +but—do you know how I love you?”</p> +<p>“I wonder why?”</p> +<p>“It’s strange, isn’t it?—after all these +years. To be really up-to-date, we should +long since have become interested each in +some other——”</p> +<p>A hand came gently but effectually upon +his mouth. He kissed the hand. “No, I +won’t say it. It’s a cynical philosophy, +and I’ll not take its language on my lips—not +with my wife in my arms, giving the +lie to that sort of thing. Julie, we’re +not sentimentalists because we still care——”</p> +<p>“Who thinks we are?”</p> +<p>“Plenty of envious skeptics, I’ll wager. +I see it in their green-eyed glances. They +can’t believe it’s genuine. Dear—is it +genuine? Look up, and tell me.”</p> +<p>She looked up, and seeing his heart in his +eyes, met his deep caress with a tenderness +which told him more than she could have +put into the words she suddenly found it +impossible to speak.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVII_LOCKWOOD_PAYS_A_CALL' id='XXVII_LOCKWOOD_PAYS_A_CALL'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +<h2>XXVII.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Lockwood Pays a Call</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“Did you know Roger Barnes was back?” +asked Wayne Carey of Anthony Robeson, +on the evening of the twenty-fifth of June, +as the two met on the street corner from +which Anthony was to take his car. Electrics +ran within a few rods of his home now, +but they ran only at fifteen-minute intervals +and were difficult to catch.</p> +<p>“No. To stay this time, I hope?”</p> +<p>“Off again to-morrow. Never saw such +a fellow—restless as a fish. Been working +all winter in Vienna—off to-morrow on the +Overland Limited to sail Saturday for +Hongkong. Goes to do a special operation +on the Emperor’s brother or some swell of +the sort. He’s been doing some mighty +slick operating, according to the medical +review I ran across in a throat specialist’s +office.”</p> +<p>“I must see him. Where is he?”</p> +<p>“At your house now, more than likely. +Said he’d got to see you, and if you haven’t +seen him yet you’re sure to before he goes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +to-morrow night. By the way, Anthony, +do you know what we heard lately about +Rachel Redding—Huntington? That she +wasn’t married to Huntington till the night +he died, almost three years ago.”</p> +<p>Anthony stared.</p> +<p>“Guess it’s straight, too,” pursued Carey. +“Queer she should have kept it all this time. +Didn’t Juliet hear from her at all?”</p> +<p>“Only once or twice, I believe.”</p> +<p>“Her father and mother both died last +winter.”</p> +<p>“Are you sure?”</p> +<p>“The man who told me was a traveller. +Said she and Huntington’s mother were +coming back to live East again. He was +an Eastern man himself—knew Huntington, +and got interested when he heard the +name out in Arizona. ‘Alexander Huntington‘s’ +rather an uncommon name, you +know. But what could have been her +motive for keeping everything so still?”</p> +<p>“I’ve no idea,” said Anthony, and let +Carey talk on by himself till the car came. +He was unwilling to discuss Rachel Redding’s +affairs on a street corner even with +Wayne Carey, because she was Juliet’s +friend. But he had an idea as to why +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +Rachel had been so reserved about herself. +There were three men in the East whose +interest in Huntington’s life or death had +not been an altogether unbiased one. He +could understand that the girl would not +be eager to declare herself free to them, +though the fact of Huntington’s death had +reached them soon after its occurrence. But +this other fact—that she had married him +only at the last moment—it was obvious +that the sort of girl Rachel Redding was +would never make capital out of that +strange occurrence, whatever its explanation +might be. That Roger Barnes knew +nothing of it he was quite certain.</p> +<p>He missed Juliet from the corner where +she and the boy usually met him, and +hurrying on to the house came upon his +wife just as she was leaving.</p> +<p>“Oh, I didn’t realise I was late, dear,” +she said, while Anthony swung his little +son up to his shoulder, eliciting triumphant +shouts as a reward. “Tony, Rachel is +here.”</p> +<p>“<i>Rachel?</i>”</p> +<p>“Hush—yes; she’s upstairs, and her window +is open. Walk down the orchard with +me and I’ll tell you. Her coming, an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +hour ago, was what made me forget the +time.”</p> +<p>“Carey was talking about her this afternoon,” +said Anthony, strolling by her side +and carrying on a frolic with the boy at the +same time. “He’d just heard a singular +thing—that she wasn’t married to Huntington +till the very night he died.”</p> +<p>“She told me. She’s going away to-night, +she insists; but I shall not let her. +No, Mr. Huntington wouldn’t let her marry +him. After they went away he said he +wouldn’t take her unless he got well. Tony, +he was a fine character; in our sympathy +for Roger Barnes we haven’t appreciated +him. It was only at the last that he let +her do it. She found out how happy it +would make him then, and she would have +it so.”</p> +<p>“I’m glad she did—poor fellow. Juliet, +Roger Barnes is in town.”</p> +<p>“Really?” Juliet stopped, her breath +catching. “Oh, Tony——”</p> +<p>“Came day before yesterday—leaves to-morrow +night for Hongkong.”</p> +<p>“Tony!”</p> +<p>Anthony looked down at her, smiling. +“There’s a situation for you. Can you be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +expected to keep your friendly hands off +that possibility?”</p> +<p>“He won’t go away without coming to +see us?”</p> +<p>“Most certainly not.”</p> +<p>“Then he will naturally come to-night.”</p> +<p>“It’s more than probable.”</p> +<p>“Tony, I won’t be trying to manage +fate—that’s what the doctor calls it—if +I keep Rachel here until after——”</p> +<p>“Until after the Overland Limited leaves +for San Francisco? Well, fate needs a +little assistance once in a while. I think +you may legitimately persuade Rachel to +stay, if you can. What is her hurry, anyway?”</p> +<p>“I can’t find out, except that I imagine +she’s afraid of meeting one of the men she +most assuredly would meet if they knew +she had come. She thinks Roger Barnes +is in Vienna still.”</p> +<p>“She does? Ye gods! I think my knees +will begin to tremble if I see their meeting +imminent. Come, son, let’s try a race to +the house. I’ll give you to the big, crooked +apple tree. One—two—three—go!”</p> +<p>Juliet followed more slowly, thinking +busily. Rachel had been very decided about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +going back into the city that night. Mrs. +Huntington, Senior, was with friends, who +had begged her daughter’s acceptance of +their hospitality, and for the elder woman’s +sake she had acquiesced. Rachel was a +keeper of promises, Juliet knew. And to +tell her of the probability of the doctor’s +appearance would be a doubtful means +of securing her detention. But if, for any +reason, the doctor should fail to appear—Juliet +made up her mind that she would +give fate her chance until nine o’clock that +night. If by that time Barnes had not +come——</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Juliet looked on eagerly while Anthony +greeted Rachel. Her friend had never +seemed to her so lovely as now, in her simple +black gown, accentuating, as it did, the +deep tone of her hair and eyes. Her face +had gained in colour and contour in the +Arizona climate—its tints were richer. The +delicacy of her features was not changed, +but their beauty was greater.</p> +<p>“You’ve lived much outdoors, I see,” +said Anthony, when dinner was over and +the three had gone out upon the porch, +“and it’s been good for you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span></p> +<p>“I’ve even slept outdoors,” Rachel told +them, “fully half the year; and ridden +horseback every day. I can’t quite think +how the electrics are going to seem in place +of my gallop on Scot. The people on the +ranch where we were have simply made +me do the things they did. The owner was +a dear old gentleman; he gave me Scot. +He wanted to send him after me; but nurses +have small use for horses, I believe,” she +ended, smiling.</p> +<p>“That’s the plan, is it?”</p> +<p>“Yes. It’s what I can do best, I think. +I am to enter the training-school the first +of July, at the Larchmont Memorial +Hospital.”</p> +<p>“I’ll wager tremendous odds you don’t,” +thought Anthony, “in spite of that confident +tone. If Roger Barnes looks in to-night +it’s all up with your plans—or make +a bigger fight than even you can do. A +man who can’t stay in his own town because +you are out of it——”</p> +<p>He was sitting—purposely—where he +faced the road. He had considerately +offered Rachel a chair with her back to the +highway. Juliet was swinging lightly in +the hammock behind the vines. Anthony, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +talking on about Arizona and the Larchmont +Memorial, kept an eye on the approach +to the house from the corner where +visitors always left the car. His watch was +rewarded at length by the sight of a figure +rapidly turning the corner and making +straight for the house.</p> +<p>“Now we’re in for it,” he thought. +“From now on the question with Juliet +and me will be how we can most gracefully +efface ourselves without seeming to do it. +If I remember this young person correctly +she’s a little difficult to leave unchaperoned +against her will.”</p> +<p>Out of the corner of his eye he kept track +of the approaching figure. It was coming +on at a great pace, and in the twilight could +be seen looming taller and taller as it crossed +the road and turned in across the lawn, making +a short cut according to Barnes’s own +fashion, so that the coming footsteps were +noiseless, even to the moment when the +figure reached the porch itself.</p> +<p>“Now for it,” thought Anthony, feeling +as if the curtain were about to ascend on +the fourth act of a play, when the third had +ended amidst all possible excitement.</p> +<p>“I found the roses blooming just as they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +used to do, at the side of the house”—Rachel’s +warm, contralto voice was answering +a question from Juliet—“only so untended. +I think I shall have to come out +again before I begin my work, to look after +them.”</p> +<p>Anthony did not turn as the step +he had been watching for sounded upon +the porch. To save his life he could not +help keeping his eyes upon Rachel’s face. +Rachel herself looked up with the air of +the visitor who does not know the guests +of the house, and the expression Anthony +saw upon her face showed only the +slightest possible surprise—certainly no +other feeling.</p> +<p>Juliet rose. “Ah, Mr. Lockwood,” she +said, with a cordiality, sincere little person +though she was, Anthony knew for once +she did not feel. “In the dusk I couldn’t +be quite sure.”</p> +<p>Lockwood’s eyes instantly turned to +Rachel. That he had known in some way +whom he was to see was evident from a +most unusual agitation in his manner.</p> +<p>“Mrs.—Huntington,” he got out somehow, +taking her hand, and staring eagerly +down into her face, “I heard you were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +home, and I hoped to find you here. I—you +are—I am extremely glad——”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Half an hour later Anthony came upon +his wife in the darkness of the dining-room. +“Oh, you shouldn’t have left them +when I was away,” she said. “Little +Tony cried out and I had to go. I know +Rachel doesn’t want to be left with him +to-night.”</p> +<p>“Angels and chaperons defend us,” muttered +Anthony. “I can’t stand it forever +to feel a man wanting to kill me for staying +by him through a meeting like this, after +three years. I didn’t know but Lockwood +would attempt to throw me off my own +porch. Give him a chance—he hasn’t any, +anyhow.”</p> +<p>“It’s after nine,” whispered Juliet.</p> +<p>“I know it. Roger’s taking a terrible +risk.”</p> +<p>“He doesn’t know she’s here. But I +thought he cared enough for us to——”</p> +<p>“That’s what I’ve been so sure of. He’s +probably been detained by some case. He’s +getting so distinguished, the minute he sets +foot in town now the folks with things the +matter with them begin to block his path. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +I hope she knows what she throws over her +shoulder if she refuses him now.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see that she’s going to have a +chance to refuse him,” mourned Juliet. +“Do you think he’d ever forgive us if we let +him get away without knowing she was +here?”</p> +<p>“Lockwood found it out, somehow. +Carey’s safe to tell him if he sees him—and +he’s pretty sure to, at Roger’s club.”</p> +<p>“You couldn’t telephone?”</p> +<p>“Where? If he can he’ll come here, if +only to get news of her. She’s never let +him write to her, has she?”</p> +<p>“He told me she hadn’t when he was +here last fall. And she didn’t know where +he was.”</p> +<p>“Fellow-conspirator,” whispered Anthony, +“we’ll give fate her chance to-night. +If she bungles the game we’ll take +it into our own hands to-morrow. But +I’ve a feeling I’d like to let it happen by +itself, if it will.”</p> +<p>When Lockwood had gone—which was +not until eleven o’clock, in spite of the way +his hosts remained in his vicinity—Rachel +stood still upon the porch smiling a little +wearily at Juliet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span></p> +<p>“My staying all night has been settled +for me,” she said. “There was no way to go.”</p> +<p>“Luckily for us,” Juliet answered. “Sit +here a little longer, dear. It’s such a +perfect night, and I know we shall see little +enough of you when you get at work.”</p> +<p>Rachel dropped into the hammock. “I +should like to lie here all night,” she said, +“and watch the stars until I go to sleep. +I’ve done that so many, many nights from +under a tent flap.”</p> +<p>All at once she looked up, her eyes +widening. Upon the porch step stood a +strong figure—as unlike Lockwood’s gracefully +slender one as possible. A man’s +eyes were gazing steadily down into hers—determined +gray eyes, with a light in them. +The two faces were plainly visible to each +other in the radiance from the open door.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVIII_A_HIGHHANDED_AFFAIR' id='XXVIII_A_HIGHHANDED_AFFAIR'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +<h2>XXVIII.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A High-Handed Affair</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>If she had not been standing in the doorway +Juliet would have run away, but she +had to welcome Dr. Roger Barnes, a traveler +whom she had not seen for almost a year. +Her presence, however, after one glad greeting, +seemed not to bother him much. He +turned from her to Rachel, who had +risen, and took her outstretched hand in +both his.</p> +<p>“It’s been rather a long evening,” he +said, “wandering around and around this +place, waiting for the other man to go. I +explored the orchard and the willow path, +and every familiar haunt. I had to refresh +myself occasionally by stealing up for a +glimpse of your face between the vines. +But, somehow, that only made it harder to +wait. I had to march myself off again +with my fists gripped tight in my pockets +to keep them off that fellow, eating you up +with his eyes—confound him—you, who +belong only to me.”</p> +<p>He did not smile as he said the last words, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +but stood looking eagerly at her with a gaze +that never faltered. She tried to draw her +hands away; it was useless. Juliet slipped +off, knowing that neither of them would +see her go.</p> +<p>“Come down on the lawn with me,” +he said, but she resisted.</p> +<p>“Please stay here, Doctor Barnes,” she +said, “and please let me have my hand. I +can’t talk so.”</p> +<p>“You needn’t talk—for a while,” he answered. +He sat down facing her. “At +six o’clock I found out you were here. +At eight—as soon as I could get away—I +came out. I told you how I spent +the evening. If I had needed anything to +sharpen my longing for you that would +have done it—but I think I had reached +about the limit of what I could bear in that +line already. It has been one constant +augmenting thirst for a draught that was +out of my reach. I shouldn’t have kept +my promise not to write you another day +after I had been here this time and heard—what +I have heard, Rachel.”</p> +<p>She did not answer. Her face was turned +away; she was very still. Only a slightly +quickened breathing, of which he was barely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +conscious, betrayed to him that this was not +listening of an ordinary sort.</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t have said anything could +make any difference with my feeling, to +strengthen it,” he went on very quietly, +after a while, “but I find it has. I don’t +try to explain it to myself, except by the +one thing I am sure of—that Alexander +Huntington was the noblest and most +heroic of men, and deserved to the full +those last few hours of knowledge that you +had taken his name. And I can understand +your loyalty to him in wishing to +wear it these three years. But, Rachel, I +can’t let you wear it any longer.”</p> +<p>She turned her face a shade farther away.</p> +<p>“I am leaving to-morrow night for +another year’s absence.” He spoke as +simply as if he were discussing the most +ordinary of subjects. “So I can see but one +thing to do, and that is——”</p> +<p>He got up and came around behind her, +standing in the shadow of the vines, where +the light did not touch him—“and that is, +to take you with me.”</p> +<p>He had not said it doubtfully, although +his inflection was very gentle. She moved +quickly, startled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span></p> +<p>“Doctor Barnes——”</p> +<p>“Yes, I’m ready for them. You can’t +raise an objection that I’m not ready for, +not one that I can’t meet—except one. +And that you can’t raise, Rachel.”</p> +<p>She was silent, the words upon her lips +held in check by this last bold declaration.</p> +<p>“You see you can’t, being truthful,” +he said, smiling a little. “If I seem too +confident, forgive me; but I’ve carried +with me all these years that one look, when +you forgot to veil your eyes away from +me as you always had—and always have +since then. When I get that look from +you again——” He paused, drawing a +long breath. “I don’t dare dream of it. +Rachel, will you go?”</p> +<p>She tried to glance at him, and managed +it, but no higher than his shoulders.</p> +<p>“I am engaged to take the training for +nurses at the Larchmont Memorial——” +she began.</p> +<p>But he interrupted her joyfully. “You +don’t say, ‘I don’t love you‘—it’s +only, ‘I was intending to be a nurse.’ I +told you you couldn’t say it, because it +isn’t true. You do love me, Rachel. Tell +me so.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span></p> +<p>Her hurried breathing was plainly perceptible +now. She rose quickly, as if she +could not bear the telltale lamplight upon +her face any longer, and went hurriedly +across the porch and down upon the lawn, +into the starlight. He followed her, his +pulses bounding.</p> +<p>“Oh, give up to me,” he said in her ear, +his own breath coming fast. “You’ve +been fighting it four years now—it’s no use. +We were made for each other, and we’ve +known it from the first. You stood heroically +by your first promise—you gave him +all you could; but that’s all over. You +don’t have to be true to anything or anybody +now but me. Give up, dear, and let +me know what it feels like to have you pull +a man toward you instead of pushing him +away.”</p> +<p>They had reached the edge of the orchard—in +deep shadow; and she stopped.</p> +<p>“I don’t know what I came down here +for,” she said, in confusion.</p> +<p>“I do; you were running away. It’s +your instinct to run away—I love you for +it—it’s what first made me want to follow. +But I can’t stand your running away much +longer. Look, Rachel, can you see? I’m +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +holding out my arms. Rachel—I can’t +wait——”</p> +<p>For an instant longer she held out, while +he stood silent, holding himself that he +might have the long-dreamed-of joy of receiving +her surrender. Then, all at once, +he realised that it had been worth all his +days of patient and impatient waiting, for +turning to him at last she gave herself, +with the abandon such natures are capable +of showing when they yield after long +resistance, into the arms which closed +hungrily around her.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>If anybody could have told what happened +during the next twenty-four hours it +would have been Juliet, for it was she who +took the helm of affairs. She lay awake +half the night, or what there was left of it +after the doctor had come back with Rachel +and told his friends what had happened and +what was yet to happen, planning to make +the hasty wedding as ideal as might be. +She was a wonderful planner, and a most +energetic and enthusiastic young matron +as well, so by five in the afternoon she had +accomplished all that had seemed to her +good. Rachel’s part was only to see that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +her trunk was packed, her explanations +offered and good-byes said, and her choice +made of several exquisite white gowns which +Juliet had had sent out from town.</p> +<p>“But I can’t be married in white, Mrs. +Robeson,” she had said protestingly when +Juliet had opened the boxes.</p> +<p>“Yes, you can—and must. This is your +only bridal, dear. The other—you know +that was only what the doctor said of it +once—‘your hand in his to the last’—the +hand of a friend. But this—isn’t this +different?”</p> +<p>Rachel had turned away her face. +“Yes, this is different,” she had owned. +“But——”</p> +<p>“He asked me to beg you for him to have +it so,” Juliet urged, and Rachel was silent. +So the simplest of the white frocks it was, +and in it Rachel looked as Juliet had meant +she should.</p> +<p>Only Judith and Wayne Carey were +asked down to see them married. To +humour the doctor the ceremony was +performed in the orchard, near the entrance +to the willow path. The time afterward +was short, and before she knew it Juliet was +bidding the two good-bye. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span></p> +<p>“I’ve got her,” said the doctor, looking +from Juliet to Rachel, who stood at his side. +“She’s mine—all mine. I have to keep +saying it over and over to make sure.”</p> +<p>“For your comfort,” answered Juliet, +smiling at them both, “I’ll tell you that she +looks as if she were yours.”</p> +<p>“Does she?” he cried, laughing happily. +“How does she look?” He turned and surveyed +her. “She looks very proud and +sweet and still—she’s always been those +things—and very beautiful—more beautiful +than ever before. But do you think she +really looks as if she were mine? Tell me +how.”</p> +<p>Juliet turned from him, big and eager like +a boy, to his bride, “proud and sweet and +still,” as he had said. “I’ve never seen +Rachel look absolutely happy before,” she +told him. “There’s always been a bit of a +shadow. But now—look down into her +eyes, Roger; there’s no shadow there +now.”</p> +<p>But when he would have looked Rachel’s +lashes fell. “Not yet? By-and-by then, +Rachel,” he whispered. Then he turned to +Juliet—and Anthony, who had come up to +stand beside her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span></p> +<p>“If it hadn’t been for you and your +home-making this day would never have +come for me,” he said. “You have been +good friends and true, to us both. Let us +keep you so—and good-bye.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIX_JULIET_PROVES_HERSELF_STILL_INDIFFERENT' id='XXIX_JULIET_PROVES_HERSELF_STILL_INDIFFERENT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span> +<h2>XXIX.—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Juliet Proves Herself Still Indifferent</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>On a July evening, a month later, Cathcart +and a great roll of architects’ paper +arrived on the Robeson porch. For an +hour Juliet looked and listened, while +Anthony, as he had promised, said not a +word to bias her decision. Cathcart laid +before her plans for a new house which +were—even Anthony could but admit to +himself beyond praise. From every standpoint—the +artistic, the domestic, the practical, +even the economical, so far as the +modern architect understands the meaning +of the word—the plans were ideal. Juliet +studied them absorbedly, showing plainly +her appreciation of them.</p> +<p>“It would be a beautiful home,” she said +at length. “I can think of nothing more +perfect than such a house.”</p> +<p>Cathcart looked triumphant. Without +glancing at Anthony he produced another +set of plans.</p> +<p>“Just to please myself, Mrs. Robeson,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +he announced, “I have spent some interesting +hours in trying to show what could be +done with this old house, should any one +care to lay out a reasonable sum upon it. +Frankly, old houses never repay much expenditure +of money, yet there is a certain +satisfaction in working out the details of +restoration and improvement which makes +interesting study. Purely as a matter of that +sort I have fancied such extensions as these.”</p> +<p>He laid the plans before her. Juliet +looked, bent over them, cried out with delight, +and called upon Anthony to join her.</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr. Cathcart,” she said eagerly, +“before you proved yourself an exceedingly +fine architect; but now you show yourself +a master. To make this of the old house—why, +it’s far the higher art.”</p> +<p>Anthony glanced, laughing, across at +Cathcart, whose face had fallen so pronouncedly +that Juliet would have seen it +if she had been observing. But she was too +absorbed in the new plans.</p> +<p>“If we could do this,” she was saying, +“it would satisfy my best ideals of a permanent +home.”</p> +<p>“But, my dear Mrs. Robeson,” stammered +the man of castles, “consider the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +location—the neighbourhood—the rural +character of the surroundings.”</p> +<p>“I do,” she answered, still studying the +plans. “I love them all—and the old home +most of all. Ever since I knew”—how +had she known? they wondered—“that a +change of houses was a possible thing for us +I have been homesick in anticipation of a +change I couldn’t bear to think of. Yet I +wondered if we ought to go. But if you can +make this of the old home——”</p> +<p>She lifted to her husband an enthusiastic +face. His eyes met hers in a long look in +which each read deep into the mind of the +other. Then Anthony Robeson, like a man +who hears precisely what he most wants to +hear, turned smiling to Cathcart.</p> +<p>“I think you’ve lost, Steve,” he said.</p> +<hr class='full' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>Good Fiction Worth Reading.</p> +</div> + +<p>A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field +of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy +that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p><b>WINDSOR CASTLE.</b> A Historical Romance of the Reign of Henry VIII, +Catharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth, Cloth. +12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00.</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“Windsor Castle” is the story of Henry VIII., Catharine, and Anne +Boleyn. “Bluff King Hal,” although a well-loved monarch, was none too +good a one in many ways. Of all his selfishness and unwarrantable acts, +none was more discreditable than his divorce from Catharine, and his marriage +to the beautiful Anne Boleyn. The King’s love was as brief as it +was vehement. Jane Seymour, waiting maid on the Queen, attracted him, +and Anne Boleyn was forced to the block to make room for her successor. +This romance is one of extreme interest to all readers.</p> +</div> +<p><b>HORSESHOE ROBINSON.</b> A tale of the Tory Ascendency in South Carolina +in 1780. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by +Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>Among the old favorites in the field of what is known as historical fiction, +there are none which appeal to a larger number of Americans than +Horseshoe Robinson, and this because it is the only story which depicts +with fidelity to the facts the heroic efforts of the colonists in South Carolina +to defend their homes against the brutal oppression of the British +under such leaders as Cornwallis and Tarleton.</p> +<p>The reader is charmed with the story of love which forms the thread +of the tale, and then impressed with the wealth of detail concerning those +times. The picture of the manifold sufferings of the people, is never overdrawn, +but painted faithfully and honestly by one who spared neither +time nor labor in his efforts to present in this charming love story all that +price in blood and tears which the Carolinians paid as their share in the +winning of the republic.</p> +<p>Take it all in all, “Horseshoe Robinson” is a work which should be +found on every book-shelf, not only because it is a most entertaining +story, but because of the wealth of valuable information concerning the +colonists which it contains. That it has been brought out once more, well +illustrated, is something which will give pleasure to thousands who have +long desired an opportunity to read the story again, and to the many who +have tried vainly in these latter days to procure a copy that they might +read it for the first time.</p> +</div> +<p><b>THE PEARL OF ORR’S ISLAND.</b> A story of the Coast of Maine. By +Harriet Beecher Stowe. Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.00.</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>Written prior to 1862, the “Pearl of Orr’s Island” is ever new: a book +filled with delicate fancies, such as seemingly array themselves anew each +time one reads them. One sees the “sea like an unbroken mirror all +around the pine-girt, lonely shores of Orr’s Island” and straightway +comes “the heavy, hollow moan of the surf on the beach, like the wild +angry howl of some savage animal.”</p> +<p>Who can read of the beginning of that sweet life, named Mara, which +came into this world under the very shadow of the Death angel’s wings, +without having an intense desire to know how the premature bud blossomed? +Again and again one lingers over the descriptions of the character +of that baby boy Moses, who came through the tempest, amid the +angry billows, pillowed on his dead mother’s breast.</p> +<p>There is no more faithful portrayal of New England life than that +which Mrs. Stowe gives in “The Pearl of Orr’s Island.”</p> +</div> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers, +<b>A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52-58 Duane St., New York</b>.</p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>Good Fiction Worth Reading.</p> +</div> + +<p>A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field +of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy +that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p><b>GUY FAWKES.</b> A Romance of the Gunpowder Treason. By Wm. Harrison +Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. +Price, $1.00.</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>The “Gunpowder Plot” was a modest attempt to blow up Parliament, +the King and his Counsellors. James of Scotland, then King of England, +was weak-minded and extravagant. He hit upon the efficient scheme of +extorting money from the people by imposing taxes on the Catholics. In +their natural resentment to this extortion, a handful of bold spirits concluded +to overthrow the government. Finally the plotters were arrested, +and the King put to torture Guy Fawkes and the other prisoners with +royal vigor. A very intense love story runs through the entire romance.</p> +</div> +<p><b>THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER.</b> A Romance of the Early Settlers in the +Ohio Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson +Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>A book rather out of the ordinary is this “Spirit of the Border.” The +main thread of the story has to do with the work of the Moravian missionaries +in the Ohio Valley. Incidentally the reader is given details of the +frontier life of those hardy pioneers who broke the wilderness for the planting +of this great nation. Chief among these, as a matter of course, is +Lewis Wetzel, one of the most peculiar, and at the same time the most +admirable of all the brave men who spent their lives battling with the +savage foe, that others might dwell in comparative security.</p> +<p>Details of the establishment and destruction of the Moravian “Village +of Peace” are given at some length, and with minute description. The +efforts to Christianize the Indians are described as they never have been +before, and the author has depicted the characters of the leaders of the +several Indian tribes with great care, which of itself will be of interest to +the student.</p> +<p>By no means least among the charms of the story are the vivid word-pictures +of the thrilling adventures, and the intense paintings of the beauties +of nature, as seen in the almost unbroken forests.</p> +<p>It is the spirit of the frontier which is described, and one can by it, +perhaps, the better understand why men, and women, too, willingly braved +every privation and danger that the westward progress of the star of empire +might be the more certain and rapid. A love story, simple and tender, +runs through the book.</p> +</div> +<p><b>RICHELIEU.</b> A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIII. By G. P. +R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis, Price, $1.00,</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>In 1829 Mr. James published his first romance, “Richelieu,” and was +recognized at once as one of the masters of the craft.</p> +<p>In this book he laid the story during those later days of the great cardinal’s +life, when his power was beginning to wane, but while it was +yet sufficiently strong to permit now and then of volcanic outbursts which +overwhelmed foes and carried friends to the topmost wave of prosperity. +One of the most striking portions of the story is that of Cinq Mar’s conspiracy; +the method of conducting criminal cases, and the political trickery +resorted to by royal favorites, affording a better insight into the statecraft +of that day than can be had even by an exhaustive study of history. +It is a powerful romance of love and diplomacy, and in point of thrilling +and absorbing interest has never been excelled.</p> +</div> +<p>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers, +<b>A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52-58 Duane St., New York.</b></p> +<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.18 --> +<!-- timestamp: Fri Aug 08 16:15:39 -0600 2008 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Indifference of Juliet, by Grace S. Richmond + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIFFERENCE OF JULIET *** + +***** This file should be named 26233-h.htm or 26233-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/2/3/26233/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Bruce Albrecht and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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